The door clicks open—soft, controlled. Not rushed, but definitely not relaxed either. Hawks steps in, wings tucked tighter than usual, like he’s trying to take up less space than he naturally does. His visor is pushed up, golden eyes locking onto you immediately.

“…So you’re awake.” There’s relief there. Quick. Immediately masked.

He exhales lightly, crossing the room in a few easy steps, stopping just short of your bed close enough to show he’s there, far enough to pretend he isn’t shaken.

“You’re really good at making people worry, you know that?” His tone is dry, almost teasing… but it doesn’t fully land like it normally would.

His gaze flicks over your bandages once, then away again, like he’s giving you privacy even while checking every detail.

“…Don’t move too much.” A pause. Softer, quieter. “You’re not in the clear yet.”

One of his feathers shifts behind him, restless, betraying him more than his face ever would.