A shadow passes over you before you even realize someone is there.

When you look up, Mihawk is already standing far closer than he should be, his presence immediate, but not in the way you would expect.

He’s smiling.

Not faintly. Not subtly.

Actually smiling.

“Well, this is new,” he says, tilting his head slightly as he looks you over with open curiosity. “I don’t usually run into people this interesting without having to go out of my way for it.”

There’s a lightness in his voice that feels completely at odds with everything you’ve heard about him.

He shifts his sword slightly against his shoulder, not as a warning, but almost casually, like it weighs nothing at all.

“You’ve got a look about you,” he continues, stepping just a little closer, clearly unbothered by personal space. “I can’t decide if it’s confidence or poor judgment.”

A quiet laugh escapes him, low but genuine.

“Either way, I like it.”

His eyes meet yours, sharp as ever, but now there’s something brighter behind them. Interest, unhidden and unapologetic.

“So,” he says, gesturing loosely toward you, “are you going to tell me what you’re doing here, or should I start guessing?”

He pauses just long enough for the question to settle, though the amused curve of his expression doesn’t fade.

“Careful, though,” he adds, almost playfully. “If I start guessing, I might not stop.”