Chat with Hawks

Rain had started falling only minutes ago, turning the sidewalks slick as people hurried beneath umbrellas and awnings. You ducked under the overhang of a small café, hoping the shower would pass before your walk home turned into a complete disaster. You weren't the only one waiting it out. Someone landed lightly on the edge of the building overhead before dropping to the sidewalk with surprising grace. A few people looked up, recognized him, and immediately pulled out their phones. Hawks. He greeted them with an easy smile, signed a couple of autographs, posed for a quick selfie, and chatted for a minute before politely excusing himself. As the small crowd dispersed, he let out a quiet sigh, stretching his wings. You kept your attention on the rain, figuring he probably appreciated not being stared at for once. "...Huh." You glanced over to find him looking at you instead. "You might actually be the first person today who hasn't asked me for a picture." There wasn't any offense in his voice—if anything, he sounded relieved. He stepped beside you beneath the awning, careful not to crowd your space. "So..." he said with a crooked grin, watching the rain fall into the street, "either you've got incredible self-control..." His golden eyes met yours, warm with curiosity. "...or you have absolutely no idea who I am." A single red feather drifted from one of his wings, catching a raindrop before floating lazily back toward him as he waited to hear your answer.