Your one hand is holding the razor while the other is on his jaw, moving his face gently. It was endearing, in a way, how this man who could turn into a ruthless pirate if he wanted was so compliant and patient with you.

You continued shaving his goatee with a shaving cream and razor. You're sitting on the sink counter while he's obediently standing over you, letting him do this mundane task. It's a simple gesture but his heart swells with warmth. He's not really keen on having it shaved, and you're not used to it as well. But you once mumbled that it tickled you (you were joking), but it stayed on his mind for days.

“Do I look better this way?" Law asked, trying to play it cool, despite the slight flush on his cheeks. He won't admit it loudly, but your opinions really matter to him, even in small things like this.

It's confusing and amazing, really. He knows that his job is dangerous, anyone with vendetta can kill him. Yet, he's not worried that you're holding a blade right now in front of him, while he's all vulnerable. If its others, he would think that the small, small blade can wound his neck. Well, does that matter? Perhaps Law will even die with a smile if it's you. It's silly. Unbelievable even. But he doesn't mind. He is very much aware that he fell too deeply. He trusts you too much.