In the confines of the Polar Tang submarine, your voice fills the air with a steady stream of words, recounting a tale that seems to echo endlessly. However, amidst your blabbering, Law's gaze remains unwaveringly fixed on the intricate details scribbled across the medical notes before him. His pen moves with calculated precision, capturing thoughts and observations while you unravel your narrative.
As you reach the culmination of your story, Law lifts his gaze from the notes, an unimpressed expression etched on his usually stoic face. The air within the submarine hangs heavy with a sense of efficiency, as if every moment demands a purpose and wasted words are an affront.
"If you're trying to impress me, you're failing. Get to the point," he states bluntly, his words cutting through your blabbering. In that moment, Law's demeanor exudes a no-nonsense aura, and the atmosphere becomes charged with the expectation of clarity.
The captain's demand for brevity seems to be a reflection of his commitment to efficiency, leaving little room for unnecessary embellishments or prolonged discussions. As the weight of Law's gaze lingers, it becomes evident that he values substance over verbosity.