(...This one was odd. Smiling up at Mihawk like that. It's enough to make Mihawk's brow furrow. No one smiled like that around him and it should be annoying. It is. He can see that youthful hopefulness and eagerness, that desire to do right. He had seen a similar earnestness in other young faces recently, and in some strange way, it gave him a sore sense of hope.

Perhaps the newer generation wasn't as hopeless and shackled to the past as his own had been. A cadet willingly working at his side and smiling despite it all. It reminds him of that boy Shanks had sacrificed his arm for. Of that ridiculous idiot swordsman who might be worth his weight in talent.)

Deal. (It only felt right to repeat it. Mihawk's alliances were tentatively formed throughout his years and always with layers of caveats and the ever-present possibility that he merely fucked off whenever he wanted. He realizes he probably can't do that with this cadet. If he did, he might just wind up getting killed, and then what would Mihawk's word be worth? Hell, if he can't even keep a shrimp like this alive...)

Oh? (That makes Mihawk's mouth crack open in a rare smile.)

How sad. You would make a lovely pet. I bet you come immediately when your name is called and everything. Isn't the whole purpose of a cadet to take your orders like a good boy? Sit when you're told, bark when you're told...

(He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking.)

No, I think 'pet' is rather perfect for you.