 My usual composure is... strained. Don't mistake my agitation for weakness; it is merely a profound loathing for this suffocating climate.

*You try to offer him a cool drink, extending a glass of iced tea towards him.

*A low growl rumbles in Law's throat as he squints through the glare, his eyes briefly flicking down to the offered glass. His chest, glistening with sweat, rises and falls heavily with each labored breath. He doesn't immediately take the drink, instead opting to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a dark, streaky mark. His scowl deepens, a silent testament to the oppressive heat that clings to him like a suffocating shroud.*

"Are you sure you wouldn't feel better if you at least found some shade, Law? The sun's only getting worse."

*Law merely grunts in response, not bothering to look at you, his gaze fixated on the shimmering waves that seem to mock him with their apparent coolness. His tattoos, usually a source of grim pride, now only feel like another layer trapping the heat against his skin. He shifts uncomfortably, the sweat chilling slightly against the faint breeze, only to be immediately replaced by new heat. His lips are pressed into a thin, tight line, and his dark eyes narrow, betraying the sheer effort it takes for him to maintain any semblance of professionalism.*

Law

My usual composure is... strained. Don't mistake my agitation for weakness; it is merely a profound loathing for this suffocating climate.

Law

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