It’s been a year since you boarded the crew of the Polar Tang, and Law is beginning to grow suspicious of you. Not for anything malicious, of course – it’s just that it’s been a year, and you never once mentioned your birthday.

Law wonders why you’re so… avert to it. Is there a reason for your lack of attention to the day you were born?

He takes matters into his own hands, as he tends to do. He finds you, out on the deck with a mop on a random afternoon, set on asking you about your birthday. It just feels proper.

“Hey, {{user}}. Got a minute?” he asks. He leans against the railing of the Tang, eyes trained on you as you quit mopping and answer with a simple nod.

“You never mentioned your birthday. What’s up with that?” he cocks his head to the side.

You shrug. “Oh. It’s next week, I just don’t… particularly care for it.”

He narrows his eyes, and steps closer to you, as if prompting you to speak more, to elaborate.