(That gets Mihawk to fully roll his eyes. The grin is almost insufferable to look at.)
Please, do shut up, I couldn't care less about your fetish for praise.
(For now. Thankfully his knife seems to stop whatever obnoxious prattling ass-kissing this cadet was about to bubble over with. Small miracles. But also maybe small curses because the look on Koby's face certainly does something and Mihawk's not so sure he's fond of that little seed that just got planted.
The problem is that Koby doesn't flinch. If he flinched or looked terrified, Mihawk could write him off as a dime a dozen among his fellow spineless cadets. He begrudgingly has to admire it and silently understands why Garp might have taken a liking to this one.
Koby's right too. Mihawk may have had an incredibly high body count, but it wasn't really out of any desire to shed as much blood as humanly possible. He had no interest in killing Koby. Not when seeing him alive was far, far more interesting. The little note of authority is even surprising.
Perhaps not like other cadets at all, no. Mihawk hums, tipping his head to the side, and proceeds to scrutinize Koby, his sharp eyes roving over the boy from head to toe and slowly back up. He listens to him silently, walking in a slow, steady circle around him, before he comes to a stop in front of him once again.
Please.
Please.
When was the last time anyone had ever pled him for anything that wasn't a plea to spare their lives? A plea for help no less. Help that wasn't just in the form of slashing down enemies with his sword. Even Mihawk realized the predicament that they were in. Loathe though he was to admit, he had no clue how Daisy managed to wrangle him here and he had less of an idea of how she invaded his mind the way that she did.
Koby was right. Mihawk wasn't honestly sure if Daisy was right or not, and he hated that, but he hated the idea of giving up his sanity to her just because she said so. He wanted to believe that some crazed woman had implanted the idea that he was the greatest swordsman of his time. He had achieved that. For real. He had the muscle, and the talent to prove it. It wasn't some hoax conducted in his mind for some damn variety sampling.)
It's insulting. (He responds at last, his own voice low. He slides his dagger back into its sheath.)
I've spent too much of my life earning every title I have ever gained. Too much. (His jaw clenches and he looks away, his hat covering his face.)
I refuse to believe some harlequin wench merely manipulated all of that success in my mind. (He normally wouldn't tell someone this, but...Even Mihawk knew that there was some middle ground to be crossed. He swallows thickly and finally looks back at Koby.)
We shall stay close. (Something raw and angry was burning in his eyes, but it wasn't directed at Koby. Still. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, he's calm once again.)
Besides, if I let Garp's pretty pet get killed, I'll never hear the end of it. That man can be exhausting to listen to when he's annoyed. But. (He steps closer to Koby, nearly toe-to-toe, and leans in close toward the cadet's face.)
no subject
Please, do shut up, I couldn't care less about your fetish for praise.
(
For now. Thankfully his knife seems to stop whatever obnoxious prattling ass-kissing this cadet was about to bubble over with. Small miracles. But also maybe small curses because the look on Koby's face certainly does something and Mihawk's not so sure he's fond of that little seed that just got planted.The problem is that Koby doesn't flinch. If he flinched or looked terrified, Mihawk could write him off as a dime a dozen among his fellow spineless cadets. He begrudgingly has to admire it and silently understands why Garp might have taken a liking to this one.
Koby's right too. Mihawk may have had an incredibly high body count, but it wasn't really out of any desire to shed as much blood as humanly possible. He had no interest in killing Koby. Not when seeing him alive was far, far more interesting. The little note of authority is even surprising.
Perhaps not like other cadets at all, no. Mihawk hums, tipping his head to the side, and proceeds to scrutinize Koby, his sharp eyes roving over the boy from head to toe and slowly back up. He listens to him silently, walking in a slow, steady circle around him, before he comes to a stop in front of him once again.
Please.
Please.
When was the last time anyone had ever pled him for anything that wasn't a plea to spare their lives? A plea for help no less. Help that wasn't just in the form of slashing down enemies with his sword. Even Mihawk realized the predicament that they were in. Loathe though he was to admit, he had no clue how Daisy managed to wrangle him here and he had less of an idea of how she invaded his mind the way that she did.
Koby was right. Mihawk wasn't honestly sure if Daisy was right or not, and he hated that, but he hated the idea of giving up his sanity to her just because she said so. He wanted to believe that some crazed woman had implanted the idea that he was the greatest swordsman of his time. He had achieved that. For real. He had the muscle, and the talent to prove it. It wasn't some hoax conducted in his mind for some damn variety sampling.)
It's insulting. (He responds at last, his own voice low. He slides his dagger back into its sheath.)
I've spent too much of my life earning every title I have ever gained. Too much. (His jaw clenches and he looks away, his hat covering his face.)
I refuse to believe some harlequin wench merely manipulated all of that success in my mind. (He normally wouldn't tell someone this, but...Even Mihawk knew that there was some middle ground to be crossed. He swallows thickly and finally looks back at Koby.)
We shall stay close. (Something raw and angry was burning in his eyes, but it wasn't directed at Koby. Still. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, he's calm once again.)
Besides, if I let Garp's pretty pet get killed, I'll never hear the end of it. That man can be exhausting to listen to when he's annoyed. But. (He steps closer to Koby, nearly toe-to-toe, and leans in close toward the cadet's face.)
Do not get in my way.