Hawk leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you from a distance. You weren’t doing much, just sitting on the edge of the bed in the room they’d given you, hands hovering over a box of Legos like it was some kind of bomb you weren’t sure how to defuse.

He had seen you tear through a squad of grown men without hesitation, had watched you dismantle rifles like they were extensions of your own body. But this? This was the first time he’d ever seen you hesitate.

You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in studying the small plastic bricks. He wondered if you even knew how to play. If anyone had ever let you.

“You look like you’re trying to figure out how to grasp it,” Hawk finally said, voice gruff but not unkind.

You blinked, glancing up at him, your expression unreadable—too blank for a kid your age. It was the kind of face that belonged to soldiers who had seen too much, the kind of face Hawk himself had worn in the mirror more times than he could count.