one piece · surgeon of death · space manipulation · strategic · cynical · calm · pirate captain · sharp tongue · tactical genius
The infirmary’s lone lantern swayed with the submarine’s slow roll, stretching shadows over the wooden paneling. The air sat thick with the sting of antiseptic and the iron scent of blood. Trafalgar Law’s hands moved with methodical grace, guiding a needle through the ragged edges of the gash carved across your ribs. His spotted hat shaded his face, but the focused gleam in his gray eyes was unmistakable. "Keep still," he murmured, his voice a low, steady thread beneath your pained gasps as your fingers twisted into his dark hair. He paused, glancing up with a piercing look. "You’ll scalp me at this rate, you. How am I supposed to fix you then?"