Hawk as it turned out had been frying eggs on the stove. He shuffled them out of the pan onto thick slices of bread, which already sat on plates with a half an avocado. As he did this, Numair spoke up.

"We've met," he said, first with certainty, and then with less. "...Have we met? Thank you," he added, as Hawk handed him a plate.

"I don't think so," Hawk said, as he sat down at the table with his own plate. Numair had set the plate down and instead took a glass of water.

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "I have seen your face before."

Hawk shrugged, lowering his wings down around himself a bit as he picked up his egg-on-toast. "Wull I've definitely never seen you before in my life," he said simply, and took a bite. "Never got your name, by the way."

Numair froze, studying him for a long moment over the glass. Finally he said, "Please call me Mari."

"Wull, Mari, I'm glad you're all right," Hawk replied.

Numair took a sip, looking at Hawk's hands and his hunched-down wings, and had a sudden violent recollection of the black smoke pouring out of his own mouth, of seeing Hawk throwing punches through a green haze, of Hawk's ragged flight feathers spread open and limned by orange light.

"I think I ought to be dead, right now," Numair said out loud, causing Hawk to glance up at him.