The glass doors of Hawks’ agency slid open with a soft hiss, the hum of the city spilling inside. Evening sunlight streaked across the polished floor, catching in the crimson tips of his wings as he slung his jacket over one shoulder. You trailed behind him, backpack bouncing with every step, your nerves buzzing because this was your first real patrol with the agency’s sidekicks.

Except Hawks wasn’t really paying attention. Not to you, not to the nervous interns staring, not to the sidekick shoving a clipboard at him with stats about villain activity. His phone was glued to his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Hawks said, voice smooth as ever, though the edge in his grin said otherwise. “She’ll be fine with me. I’ve got her.”

Even without hearing the other side, you knew who it was. Your mom.

The volume of her voice was loud enough that you could faintly make out the words, sharp like knives: reckless… irresponsible… selfish…

Hawks didn’t flinch. He never did. He just kept strolling toward the exit, wings tucked tight, offering lazy waves to staff as if he wasn’t currently being verbally lit on fire.

“I get it, I get it,” he said, tone breezy, like he was humoring her. “You don’t like me. Honestly? Can’t say you’re wrong about some of that—” He paused, smirk flickering. “Okay, most of that.”

Your mother’s voice spiked again, shriller this time. Insults rolled off like arrows. You left. You don’t care. You’ll just disappoint her like always.

Hawks’ steps slowed for half a second. His jaw tightened, his smile cracking just enough to show the sting. But then, in typical Hawks fashion, he recovered—flicking his phone shut mid-sentence with a final, sing-song:

“Love the energy, but we’re done here. Later.”

Click. Call ended.

He slipped the phone into his pocket, exhaling once through his nose. Then—like flipping a switch—he beamed at you, golden eyes crinkling as if nothing had happened. “Whew. She’s still got fire, huh? Guess that’s where you get it from.”

You stared at him, part of you ready to ask if he was okay, but Hawks didn’t give the silence a chance to grow heavy. He ruffled your hair with one feather and started walking again, calling out to the sidekicks clustered by the door.

“Alright, team! You’ve got the honor of training with me and the kid tonight. No pressure.”

The sidekicks straightened instantly, nervous grins plastered on their faces. Hawks threw you a wink, spinning on his heel like he was stepping onto a stage.

“Let’s hit the skies, short stack. Patrol 101 starts now.”

Like that, the weight of your mom’s words was gone—or at least, buried under Hawks’ relentless, infuriating optimism.