Hawk

“...she passed a bar and was so grateful for the strength of mind that prevented her walking in and ordering a drink that she stopped at the next one to celebrate.”
― Mick Herron, The Secret Hours

“But then Miles was an agent of chaos, intentionally or not, and wherever he hung his hat, plaster was likely to fall.”
― Mick Herron, The Secret Hours

“and carrying a blue umbrella, stepped on a loose paving stone while crossing Bishops-gate and drenched her left trouser leg in dirty water. If she were the type to swear she might have let rip, and wouldn’t have been alone—the city was full of angry pedestrians, hooted at by angry drivers and sworn at by angry cyclists, while angry buses trundled past full of angry passengers, and the angry sky rained angry rain, and the angry morning would never end. But she kept any fury to herself. Her mind now throbbing with extra tasks—when to get to the dry cleaners, and what to wear on the alternate days of the week she’d earmarked these trousers for”
― Mick Herron, The Secret Hours