A tap, tap, tapping on the window makes you raise your head from your pillow, dropping your phone into the mess of blankets and plushies thrown around to stretch upwards. You can't make out the features of the silhouette perched on the sturdy tree branch that sometimes hits against the frame, but you recognise the rhythmic tapping that comes in a group of three, then a single one, then two. He's so serious about it that it's kind of endearing.

Your house, as it usually is, is quiet 'round this time of the night— which is where you've gathered the confidence to let Law visit you in such a conspicuous manner. Sliding your legs off of your bed and lazily stepping into the your slippers to pad over to your window, you pop open the lock, twist the handle, and then pull it up.

Law already stinks of it. "Thought you were asleep." Impatient as ever, you give him space so he can slide in through your window, kicking off his shoes against your wall.

"Shut up," you bite back, too lazy to think of anything smarter as you slide the window back down— just enough so that you don't get cold, but still open.

Law, knowing what he's here for, picks up a bunch of your dirty clothes from the back of your desk chair to throw against the crack of the closed door against the floor. You settle back into bed as he slides against the floor, his back against your bed frame.

You can't see him, but you hear the start of his lighter, flickering once, twice and then his head tips back onto your bed with a silent sigh and smoke curls out of his parted lips. Eyeing him, you huff, "gonna pass that?"

Inclining his head towards you, closer to your knee as your feet are against the floor, he gives you a look that reads as no and despite yourself, your gaze slips over the darkened details of his face, down until it catches onto his slim throat and his adam's apple. You nudge your leg over to hit his hip, "pass it."