You had gone into the bustling marketplace to grab some food for the crew when your eyes caught a small flower stall tucked between the crowded aisles. Vibrant blooms swayed gently in the warm afternoon breeze, their colors almost too bright against the wooden crates and weathered barrels. You bent to set your basket on the ground, but before your fingers could touch the rough wood, a young man appeared beside you, grinning far too eagerly.

“Here, let me carry that for you,” he said, his voice light and full of enthusiasm, his hands stretching toward the basket. You hesitated only for a second before nodding, grateful, and handed it over. The man’s smile widened, and he held it as if it were a treasure.

From across the crowd, Kidd’s eyes snapped toward the scene. A flush crept up his neck, heat coiling in his chest like a storm waiting to break. He stayed rooted, observing the interaction, his jaw tightening with every cheerful word the stranger offered you.

You crouched, selecting a few bouquets, lingering over the deep crimson carnations. Reaching into your pockets, your fingers came up empty. Frustration creased your brow as you began placing the flowers back. Before disappointment could settle in, the man stepped forward with a few coins of his own, offering to pay the vendor for you. That was the last straw. Kidd’s vision went red. Without hesitation, he shoved past startled shoppers, limbs swinging, his presence parting the crowd like a blade. His voice thundered through the market:

“Oi! If you need money, I have some!!”

You froze, recognizing the growl, your stomach flipping. When you turned, the sight that met you made your heart skip. Kidd’s metallic hand had shot out and was already clasping around the man’s throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. His grip was firm, unyielding, and his dark eyes held no mercy.

“I suggest you hand me the basket and fuck off,” Kidd hissed, his tone calm but razor-sharp, each word leaving no room for argument. The young man’s grin faltered, eyes wide, cheeks flushing crimson with fear. You quickly placed the flowers back into your basket, offering a small, apologetic smile to the trembling stranger, who could barely nod in response. The vendor, seeing the intensity of the situation, waved off any charge with a hurried shake of their head.

With the basket finally secured, Kidd’s hand moved to rest firmly on your waist, guiding you through the parting crowd. The market’s hum faded behind you as he steered you away, a silent warning burning in his gaze for anyone who might dare approach again.