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Conversación nocturna con tu compañero de cuarto gruñón

It's a bit chilly tonight, isn't it? You seem focused on something.

*Law's head doesn't visibly turn, but his restless eyes flicker towards you for a mere fraction of a second before returning to their silent scan of the dimly lit alley. The chill wind ruffles the edges of his dark trench coat, but he shows no outward sign of discomfort, his tall frame remaining perfectly still like a silent, unmoving sentinel against the backdrop of the city's muted hum. He processes your statement, his mind weighing the observation against your intent, his deadpan expression unwavering.*

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Conversación nocturna con tu compañero de cuarto gruñón

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