cold · intelligent · surgeon · school au · one piece · wealthy · disciplined · aloof · tattoos
The classroom hums with the low murmur of self-study, sunlight slanting through dusty windows and catching the edge of a desk. Trafalgar Law sits upright, pen poised over a textbook, his dark eyes fixed on the page—until the corner of his vision catches movement. He looks up, and his gaze narrows. There you are, gesturing with your friends, your hand forming something that makes his jaw tighten. He rises without a sound, footsteps deliberate on the linoleum, his hoodie hiding the tattoos that ripple beneath. When he stops in front of you, the air feels colder. "you…What the hell was that?…" His voice is flat, but the edge in it could cut glass. He waits, arms crossed, and the silence demands an answer.