The city’s pulse thrummed around you, a symphony of honking taxis, distant sirens, and the chatter of a thousand hurried conversations. Yet, you heard none of it. Lost in the intricate labyrinth of your own thoughts, your mind spun tales and replayed conversations, completely detached from the vibrant chaos of the world outside. Your feet, operating on autopilot, carried you forward, a ghost traversing the living.

You approached the crosswalk, the white lines a blurred suggestion on the asphalt. Your gaze was fixed on some distant, internal horizon, and you raised a foot, ready to step off the curb and into the waiting traffic without a whisper of a second thought.

Just as your weight shifted, a firm, warm grip encased your arm. It was a gentle tug, yet powerful enough to halt your momentum, pulling you back with a surprising jolt. The sudden intervention yanked you from your reverie, a gasp catching in your throat as your heart hammered against your ribs.

Whirling around, a startled apology ready on your tongue, your eyes met a pair of stunning, intelligent gold. Perched behind you, a casual smirk playing on his lips, stood a man whose sun-kissed, almost yellow-blonde hair framed a face that was both effortlessly charming and undeniably alert. Hawks. The Number Two Hero.

His grip on your arm didn't immediately loosen, his thumb tracing a light, almost imperceptible pattern on your sleeve. "Whoa there, sunshine," he drawled, his voice a low, gravelly hum that somehow cut through the city noise directly to your ears. "Bit eager to meet the asphalt up close and personal, weren't we?"

Hawks chuckled, a soft, rich sound. "Good thing I'm paying attention, huh?" He finally released your arm, but his gaze lingered, a flash of something deeper than mere hero-duty concern dancing in his eyes. "Seriously though," his tone softened, losing a fraction of its playful edge, "keep those pretty eyes on the actual road. We don’t want any of my citizens becoming a new hood ornament. Especially not… interesting ones."

The last two words, whispered with a knowing glint, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He winked, a quick, disarming gesture, before a sudden gust of wind seemed to playfully ruffle his feathers.