Post by Hawkshaw on Jun 5, 2022 20:36:28 GMT
As the healer speaks, Hawkshaw notices belatedly that his mask's straps were loose, as though they'd been unfastened and then refastened. He nods, and tightens the small leather strip, looking unconcerned.
"It doesn't matter. The mask isn't about my identity. I'm nobody. It's about making them fear me." He pauses, a hint of self-aware irony slipping through. "And occasionally preventing concussions."
It had done its job well enough in that respect today, judging by the fact that there was a dent in the metal on the helmet's right side. Between that, and the chunks that had been taken out of his armor, Hawkshaw will need some time to repair his equipment before he can get back out on the streets. That wouldn't be quite so frustrating if Mars and Sheer hadn't both gotten away relatively unscathed, too.
Still, every loss is a lesson, and his abilities only grow stronger with every battle. Not to mention identifying a potential ally... even if this woman seems uninterested in the conflict for the city's soul at present.
"Thank you," he repeats, less uncomfortably this time, as he accepts the thermos. "I won't be staying long."
Lingering here would only put these people at risk. However, it's not as if they'd be completely safe without the Deathwish Detective around, either.
"You can deny what you are if you want, but someone else is going to find out eventually, and when they do, you're going to have to pick a side."
Hawkshaw hopes the healer won't interpret that as a threat- it wasn't meant as one. More of a warning. The Bloodhound has no interest in conscripting anybody, but the corps, cops, and criminals all lack his scruples. Reaching into his belt- slowly, to make clear he isn't going for a weapon -he retrieves a Cryptophone, one of the encrypted radio communicators he uses to contact his small network of allies around the city. There's only one number programmed into it- his own.
"When they come, call me. I'll be there."
"It doesn't matter. The mask isn't about my identity. I'm nobody. It's about making them fear me." He pauses, a hint of self-aware irony slipping through. "And occasionally preventing concussions."
It had done its job well enough in that respect today, judging by the fact that there was a dent in the metal on the helmet's right side. Between that, and the chunks that had been taken out of his armor, Hawkshaw will need some time to repair his equipment before he can get back out on the streets. That wouldn't be quite so frustrating if Mars and Sheer hadn't both gotten away relatively unscathed, too.
Still, every loss is a lesson, and his abilities only grow stronger with every battle. Not to mention identifying a potential ally... even if this woman seems uninterested in the conflict for the city's soul at present.
"Thank you," he repeats, less uncomfortably this time, as he accepts the thermos. "I won't be staying long."
Lingering here would only put these people at risk. However, it's not as if they'd be completely safe without the Deathwish Detective around, either.
"You can deny what you are if you want, but someone else is going to find out eventually, and when they do, you're going to have to pick a side."
Hawkshaw hopes the healer won't interpret that as a threat- it wasn't meant as one. More of a warning. The Bloodhound has no interest in conscripting anybody, but the corps, cops, and criminals all lack his scruples. Reaching into his belt- slowly, to make clear he isn't going for a weapon -he retrieves a Cryptophone, one of the encrypted radio communicators he uses to contact his small network of allies around the city. There's only one number programmed into it- his own.
"When they come, call me. I'll be there."