Law, despite his casual demeanor, is watching like a hawk. He notes how the man startles, and files that away with interest. The hall is filled with labored breaths, and the man goes very still despite his apparent discomfort.
Meeting his eyes is like staring into a smouldering fire; sputtering and dying but refusing to go out, stoked with rage and spite.
He knows that look. He’s seen it staring back at him in the mirror on the Polar Tang. …it’s because of that he knows this man is dangerous. Law keeps his distance-
Until the stranger’s balance wavers just a little, and he finds himself taking an instinctual step forward. Law stops himself of course, and tries to play it off by crossing his arms across his chest, his sword tucked into the crook of his arm. He raises an eyebrow at the answer he gets.
“I dunno. I think most people would agree that blood is supposed to be inside the body. That it’s smeared all over the floor and currently leaking out of your leg would therefore probably be at least one thing wrong, I think,” he replies sardonically. He leans a little on the mirror next to him, to further show how unbothered he is. Even as his eyes keep being pulled toward the seeping blood….
If FLamebringer looks at the mirror, he would see a version of this man dressed in a white lab coat, his eyes much less shadowed, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands instead of a sword.
A death wish… Law’s face twists into something like a smirk; muted but amused. He raises his hand for the man to more easily see. “Not a wish for it necessarily. However I’m quite familiar with it.” So says the surgeon of death.
The man is clearly not comfortable. Smart. They’re strangers. However…familiar as he is with death, he…has the training to prevent it. He can take care of a little bleeding. Law hums nonchalantly. “Well, you;re the first real person I’ve seen here so far. I got the training to treat injured people.” And he’s alone. It would be good to have an ally of sorts. ….what he says instead is: “Maybe I’m just bored. Either way,” he tilts his head, shadows shifting over his face. “The way you look, I don’t think you have the luxury of being picky about what help is being offered to you, yeah?”
LMAOOO the way I heard it. BUSTED out laughing jhdfgjkd the pic is Law crouched like a goblin
Meeting his eyes is like staring into a smouldering fire; sputtering and dying but refusing to go out, stoked with rage and spite.
He knows that look. He’s seen it staring back at him in the mirror on the Polar Tang. …it’s because of that he knows this man is dangerous. Law keeps his distance-
Until the stranger’s balance wavers just a little, and he finds himself taking an instinctual step forward. Law stops himself of course, and tries to play it off by crossing his arms across his chest, his sword tucked into the crook of his arm. He raises an eyebrow at the answer he gets.
“I dunno. I think most people would agree that blood is supposed to be inside the body. That it’s smeared all over the floor and currently leaking out of your leg would therefore probably be at least one thing wrong, I think,” he replies sardonically. He leans a little on the mirror next to him, to further show how unbothered he is. Even as his eyes keep being pulled toward the seeping blood….
If FLamebringer looks at the mirror, he would see a version of this man dressed in a white lab coat, his eyes much less shadowed, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands instead of a sword.
A death wish… Law’s face twists into something like a smirk; muted but amused. He raises his hand for the man to more easily see. “Not a wish for it necessarily. However I’m quite familiar with it.” So says the surgeon of death.
The man is clearly not comfortable. Smart. They’re strangers. However…familiar as he is with death, he…has the training to prevent it. He can take care of a little bleeding. Law hums nonchalantly. “Well, you;re the first real person I’ve seen here so far. I got the training to treat injured people.” And he’s alone. It would be good to have an ally of sorts. ….what he says instead is: “Maybe I’m just bored. Either way,” he tilts his head, shadows shifting over his face. “The way you look, I don’t think you have the luxury of being picky about what help is being offered to you, yeah?”