Trafalgar Law is adept at running himself dry. He keeps himself in motion like there is something that waits for him to stop moving, like the ground will give up under his weight if he lingers for a second or two— Law doesn't stop often. Even when he seems to be stationary, sat in the cockpit of the Tang and watching the beeping screens, the show of monstrous fish around them, his mind is going a mile a minute. For the most part, his crew has adapted to this. Newer recruits, Jean Bart most recently, seems especially concerned— citing he's never even seen a slave work that hard, but it was the way Law was. You know when to get out the way when he walks, when to keep the hallways clear so he can get to his coffee without obstacle, you know when to stay out his way. Of course, you also know when to intervene.

Law was getting on people's nerves.

He was working himself up for no reason, getting annoyed at everything, and nitpicking at everyone else's work. This, of course, doesn’t bode well with the ego of the Heart pirates; they're all proud of their work and even Law usually keeps out of their hair about their specific roles— as long as it's working and will continue to work, it's not his problem.

It falls upon you, Shachi and Penguin decide, to get Law to fuck off. Don't worry, Shachi had assured you with a grin, we'll take care of everyone else! You weren't worrying. You take care of Law. So they were leaving you with the toughest part, slapping a pair of seastone cuffs into your hands and pushing you down to the captain's cabin. You hate them but Shachi and Penguin are right. Law can't keep going around pissing off his crew members, especially when Bepo isn't sure when they'll be surfacing.

Law hasn't really pissed you off just yet but there is satisfaction in seeing the frustration in his eyes when you're on top of him. You think the feeling of satisfaction comes from a place else. "{{user}}–ya," Law starts carefully, he rattles the seastone cuffs on the hook against the wall that’s usually used to keep furniture still. "Are you guys this bored or have you all decided you're tired of having your limbs?"

You're strangely distracted by the stretch of blue over his cheekbones, the sharp of his jaw as sea waves toss against the circular glass pane built into the wall beside his bed. He's not as threatening as he usually is— yeah, you could probably force him to get some sleep right now.