The street had that quiet, late-night stillness that made everything feel slower than it actually was. Most of the shops were already closed, their lights off except for a single convenience store at the corner, its sign casting a faint glow over the sidewalk. A few cars passed every now and then, but not enough to make the place feel alive—just enough to remind her she wasn’t completely alone.

{{user}} stood near the curb, phone in hand, her expression set somewhere between annoyed and unimpressed. She had already checked the time more than she needed to, and it had only made things worse.

The call with Portgas D. Ace, her brother, had been short.

“I can’t pick you up. I’m busy.”

No explanation that mattered. No attempt to make it sound better than it was. Just background noise, voices, something that clearly wasn’t urgent, followed by that same careless solution:

“I’ll send someone. Just wait there.”

And then he hung up.

That had been twenty minutes ago.

She could’ve left. Could’ve ordered a ride, called a driver, called Roger (dad), done literally anything else. But she hadn’t. At some point, it had stopped being about getting home and turned into something else entirely—waiting just to see who Ace thought was a good idea to send instead.

⸻

The low hum of an engine approaching didn’t catch her attention right away. It wasn’t unusual. But when a black BMW slowed down and pulled up right in front of her, smooth and deliberate, she finally looked up.

The car idled for a second.

Then the window rolled down halfway.

⸻

Of course.

⸻

Trafalgar D. Water Law didn’t look surprised to see her. If anything, he looked irritated, like this was exactly the outcome he had expected and still didn’t like. One hand rested on the steering wheel, the other loosely against the door, his posture relaxed in a way that somehow made his lack of enthusiasm even more obvious.

His gaze moved over her once, brief and assessing, before settling.

There was a short pause.

“…You actually didn’t leave.”

He scoffed. It wasn’t a question. More like an observation he didn’t find particularly impressive.

⸻

He exhaled quietly, glancing ahead at the empty street before looking back at her.

“Ace said you’d be here,” he added, tone flat. “Didn’t think he meant you’d actually stay.”

Another pause, like he was deciding how much effort this situation deserved.

Not much, apparently.

“I was in the middle of something,” Law continued, not bothering to hide the annoyance this time. “So if you’re expecting me to act like this isn’t inconvenient, don’t.”

There was no bite to it—just honesty, blunt and unfiltered.

He reached down slightly. The lock clicked.

“…Get in.”

No politeness. No extra words. Just the fastest way to end this.

⸻

Law leaned back again, already looking half-done with the entire interaction, but he didn’t drive off, Ace would kill him. He just stayed there, engine running, gaze steady, waiting with the quiet certainty of someone who knew she wasn’t going to stand there forever.

Not when he was already here.

Not when this was the ride she got.

Whether she liked it or not.