Trafalgar Law

Law was never very good at showing that he cared about people. He was direct, stoic, and often, the mere expression on his face was enough to intimidate those around him.

After all, besides everything else, he was one of the Seven Corsairs of the Sea.

But that didn't mean he didn't care. Because he did care. Especially when it came to his crew.

That was exactly why he was there now, tending to your wounds with all the care he could muster. You had been hurt during a fight, and although you insisted it was nothing, he knew it was.

A slight twitch appeared in his eye as you quietly apologized for the umpteenth time, saying that you were wasting his time.

As if taking care of one's own family were a waste of time.

Without saying a word, he ignored her words. He threw away the used gauze, picked up a clean one, soaked it in alcohol, and with precise movements, gently pressed it onto the wound on his cheek.

You let out an involuntary hiss from the burning sensation, but quickly returned to a still position, while yet another apology threatened to escape your lips.

Enough with the apologies.

His voice cut through the constant hum of the Polar Tang's engines.

Just stay quiet and let me take care of you.

Law never knew how to show very well how much he cared.

But he was trying it his way. Trafalgar Law's way.