#local crab is finally well enough to hold a pen

[crabsnpersimmons]

dreaming about the perfect pillow

fun fact: Moon is a hugger when he sleeps

(feeling better btw, not yet 100% but i can draw again! still need plenty of rest for reasons, but will be slowly replying to the asks in my inbox soon!)

[fang-wolfsbane]

Transformers Generation One: A Seeker's Triangle: Chapter 03: Discovery

“Hey Zett, haul your ass up here and get this job done!”

“Yessir! Be right there!” Zett Oakwell called up to his superior, or at least that’s what the man seemed to believe himself to be. Waiting until the big, burly man moved out of sight, Zett kept his lips pressed into an all too friendly smile he had years to practice into perfection. The moment he lost sight of the man, so did his lips lose their form.

A sigh rattled through Zett’s ribs, his hand reaching up to rub his palm against his diaphragm, trying to quell his true thoughts on the man who barely paid him the minimum wage for working on the construction site their company had been asked to clear. It didn’t help that they were the only two on site either. Everyone else had claimed that they were all ‘too busy’ to help with the clearing. He hoped they all got some form of pain in their backsides as karma for leaving him as the boss’s sole lapdog.

Looking around the site, Zett took a moment in to get a good look at the small beach that had been used as a dump by the locals. He could feel his hand curling into a fist as his anger swelled up once more. There were plenty of trashcans around the city, yet people still chose to walk along this very beach and just let their refuge flitter to the ground without a second thought.

Zett wasn’t an eco-warrior, or any kind of activist, but it still pained him to see how little humans thought of the only inhabitable planet they had. Talks about travelling to distant planets to live on them instead had crossed over the radio a couple of times when he walked past the boss’s office, overhearing all the excited chatter about the possibilities. Sure, send humans to another planet so that they can destroy that one as well. Those had been his thoughts. No one had asked his opinion on the matter, so he never gave it, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have an opinion either.

Personally, he felt like no one ever really bothered to talk to him unless they needed something. That’s the way it always was. At home, at school, and even at work, so he simply chose to keep his mouth shut and pick up whatever he passed, throwing away the trash the cause of the problem chose to ignore.

The sunlight bounced off the slow approaching waves, lapping ever so gently at the shore as if tentatively testing its safety. The sight of a small crab scuttling in the distance was at least something that brought a smile to his lips. It almost looked like the crab was trying to play a game of tag. Nature’s refuge workers his teacher had said during a field trip when he was in the seventh grade. Zett took his hardhat off in respect for the crustacean, the same sunlight bouncing off his neck-length black hair, before turning on his heel and heading towards the boss’s temporary base of operations for the hotel they were tasked to build. Another refuge for the litterbugs too lazy to walk a couple of steps to the nearest bin.

“You wanted to see me, boss?” Zett asked upon entering the office, his brown eyes scanning the room. There wasn’t really much to look at. A wooden desk painted blue in the corner with a heap of bills for equipment, a cold cup of coffee and a pen verging on the edge of toppling off the side. The chair that was supposed to be nearby stood off to the side, acting as something for his boss to lean against as he studied one of the blueprints plastered against the wall. A quick once over told Zett that it was for the seventh floor. He hadn’t bothered to ask how tall the hotel was going to be. He only cared about how much they would get paid by the end of it.

If the pay-out were as good as he was hoping, he’d have saved up enough to put in a deposit for his own place once he graduated from high school in a couple of months, possibly scraping by with his sloppy grades. As long as he passed and could move out, then he was happy. Everything else could wait.

“Yeah. You don’t mind working extra shifts, right?” his boss asked, not even having the decency to try and look at him as he asked. Coming from the man before him, Zett knew it wasn’t a request as much as an order. If he refused, it would simply be cut from his check, not that he’d receive any extra payment for saying yes in the first place. Zett made sure to hide his curling fist on the inside of his hat, flashing a crude gesture to the otherwise rude man.

“No sir,” Zett hummed, forcing his lips into that same, earlier, all too eager to please smile that he hated so much that he felt like he could hurl at the mere thought of doing it.

“Good. I need you to work overtime tonight. Get this area clear by tomorrow morning so that the boys can get started. We’re behind schedule as it is.”

‘We wouldn’t have fallen behind in the first place if ‘the boys’ had bothered to show up in the first place,’ Zett snapped back, mentally of course. No way in hell was he going to keep his employment if he dared point out the reason for their falling behind. At least this way, he wouldn’t have to worry about going home and getting chewed out by his poor biology class test results – if his school bag had been left undisturbed where he had taken to hiding it beneath his bed.

“Sure thing.”

“Good. Remember to lock up when you’re done.” And just like that, the boss dismissed him, already grabbing his own jacket as he hurried out the door towards his waiting car. Watching the rear lights of the old clunker turning the corner, Zett waited a couple of seconds before slamming the protective headwear into the sandy floor beneath himself as hard as he could, sliding his hands through his hair shortly after as he screamed his frustration to the distant sky, his seemingly only companion as of late. A million stars, none of which probably even knew his name, much less about his existence. It made him wonder if anyone – any thing – knew that he too, had a life. At this point, there was no chance in hell.

***

Hours of hauling trash from one end to another had Zett sweaty, moody, and frankly, tired. A church bell in the distance told him that it was three in the morning. By this time, the headlight he’d wrapped around his forehead had lost its life, and of course his boss hadn’t bothered to leave a spare behind, so Zett continued working in the dark, knowing fully well that in a couple of hours he’d be forced to work alongside the same men who left the grunt work to him. The only comfort he gave himself was that he’d probably earn a couple of muscles from all the heavy lifting. The small bulges in his arms acted as reassurance.

He had been warned, multiple times before, about paying attention to where he was walking when doing his work, so the moment his foot hit something hard, Zett only had enough time to yelp out his surprise before crashing face-first into something solid.

A crunch of bone informed him that he’d officially broken his nose, his salt-stained hands flying up to try and cover it before the bloodbath begun. He knew it was an overexaggerating on his part, but it still hurt. For the first time in eighteen years, he’d broken something that most guys his age hurt during physical fights. He nearly laughed at how lame his excuse would be if someone cared enough in the hallway to ask why his skin had turned purple and blue. If he were lucky, he could convince them that he’s gotten it the same way as most guys his age tended to break their bones. Maybe he’d even be lucky to impress Miss Perfect, Carly.

He didn’t quite know why she was the one he wanted to impress, chalking it up to his DNA telling him to be the typical kid falling for the most popular girl at school only to be ignored like a poster from the drama club requesting new members. He nearly felt giddy at the thought of finally, possibly one-upping that other guy that always hung out with her. Spike… something. He didn’t know much about him, except that he had some association with robotic aliens from some other planet. Maybe those aspiring astronauts had some point to their Earth-eviction plan.

The first couple of months after the robots – Autobots, if he remembered right – no one could stop talking about them, until everyone got used to their existence. Sometimes when walking past a car parked off on its own, even he attempted to strike up a conversation with it in the hopes that it would respond. It never did.

Groaning, Zett pushed himself out of the salty water, keeping his hand pressed to his nose, trying to ignore how sensitive it was. Looking down, Zett leaned in for a closer look to see what he had tripped over. It was definitely something big, painted black with green streaks and purple markings. He frowned, leaning in for a closer look. From what he could see, it looked like one of those giant Autobot robots. Although this one seemed to be, well, dead.

How long had it been laying here? From the gleam of the armouring or whatever it was that they called their… skin, it seemed the robot had been abandoned. Sliding his hand up the side, he felt a couple of bumps and dents. Whoever this robot was, they sure had seen better days. From what he could feel, it felt like a female version. That alone was enough to cause his cheeks to heat. The closest he’d ever gotten to the females of his own species was talking to one of them with an occasional glance at their cleavage or other… assets when passing them by. Who knew that his first time touching any kind of female would be a robot? Not that he would tell anyone about that.

“What happened to you girl?” Zett asked, as if expecting a response. The head seemed to hold some kind of helmet that flowed into cables that he supposed was their version of hair. A visor like the ones that firefighters wore on their helmets covered where he figured her eyes were. Did Autobots also have eye problems? A pair of wings jutted out on either side, making him think that she had probably transformed into a plane or something similar. Judging from her slim figure, probably a jet. From what he could see, there wasn’t any rust, luckily.

The best course of action was to probably to talk to Spike at school and tell him about his discovery. Even better, he could go to Carly’s house and tell her personally. The grin that had appeared on his face at the thought fell. Not only was it way too early in the morning to drop by for a ‘casual visit’, he didn’t even know where she lived in the first place. He sighed once more, turning himself around as he sat down on her leg, running his free hand through his hair.

“Just can’t get a break, can you, Zett?” he asked himself, staring at his reflection in the water that wasn’t even visible. He frowned, kicking the back of his heel against the leg. So much for finding a giant robot that he couldn’t even use to impress the girl he liked.

A soft whirring sound buzzed through his ears, causing him to sit up. The robot wasn’t radioactive, was it? His head slowly turned towards the robot’s face, her visor lighting up into a soft red glow as a pair of even redder eyes locked onto him in what he instinctively knew was a warning.

“Oh boy.”

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

double chapters for the self-indulgent Law thing, 4+5, each exceeding 2k words a bit

it’s on AO3 already btw (as well as ffn) (apart from the latter chapter which will be tumblr-exclusive till mornig aka for about 10 hours, but honestly, don’t fuck your eyes over with my theme otherwise)

It takes about ten minutes of convincing, but she finally gets him to take off the ridiculous looking piece of clothing. On his way out, he shoves a long sword into her hands.

“Woah...! What's this for?” is her surprised reaction. She's also vaguely excited, because... swords.

“Kikoku. I don't leave base without it.” He states as a matter of fact.

“... alright. I'll just assume you have no problem handling it at the moment.“ she mumbles, throwing it... no, not around her neck, the weapon doesn't fit the corridor, unless she crab walks her way back outside... over her shoulder it is.

He stops up at the entrance for one too many seconds. She decides not to push her luck and just wait it out. It takes long enough for some crew members nearby noticing the holdup, though. Uni and... Clione, was his name? She waves at them. They mimic the gesture and disappear behind the corner, but not before giving a thumbs-up... She sighs. There's a wee little feeling they may not have been informed as of yet. Either that, or they are ignoring the situation altogether. Oh bother.

“... this still feels really weird.” he groans eventually, hand hovering over the doorhandle.

She tries to come up with something to calm-slash-convince him: “No person whatsoever will even recognize you outside, okay...? Worst case scenario, we run into an acquaintance of mine and say hello. And, well... count your blessings? I have short ones, too. Albeit I'd never wear those without leggings, so... fair enough.” With a groan, she acknowledges that this incoherent rambling is not getting them anywhere. “Anyway, look...” she says, stepping closer. “the sooner we're over this, the faster it ends, okay? Think of the pants, Law. The pants... they are only five minutes away from you.”

All he can muster is a sigh. The last section is more ridiculous and worse than anything else before it... but somehow, also better. “You are not one for pep talk.”

“... can't argue with that.” Kat admits. “I'm generally bad with words... and make things worse.” What else could she do in this situation, though? Shove him outside herself? Actually, no... that's rude. “Alright, I'll ignore the realization that this body is probably strong enough to just drag you anywhere I want to and offer plan C instead: we talk about the stuff you want to say anyway while we are out walking. Should be distraction enough, no?”

He turns around halfway- what she first said was slightly unnerving while absolutely true. The second part, though, is as good of an idea as it can get. “See, that's more of a plan.”

“Oh, nice,” she says, almost puzzled that it worked. Uncertainty returns a second later, however. “Is it enough to get going, though?”

He turns back to the door and puts a hand on the handle. For a moment, he muses over how lucky he is that noone came through during all of this. Before opening it, he takes another quick look back, to which Kat reacts with a vaguely encouraging thumbs-up. If only he could be as nonchalant about this whole thing as her... oh well.

Having gotten outside and off the vessel, they start walking into town and Law adjusts his hat which has trouble staying put. She can't help but smile: “By the way, that looks incredibly silly on me.”

“... so?” he retorts, not even hiding that he's offended.

She puts her hands up in surprise. “Hey, hey, sorry... I see it's a sentimental value thing, never mind.”

“It's not...” The answer comes a little too fast, he finds. Anyway, “I'm just used to having it where it belongs. Like my nodachi.”

“I know, I also can't stay calm if I don't have my pens at hand at all times... I'll take good care of the baby, don't worry,” she says patting her bag and the blade with a smile, totally ignoring the look being given. She's got a prickly, sweet pear here by the looks of things. That's a pleasant surprise, great relief, and overall good news. “Well then... how will we kick this private introductory seminar on devil fruits off, Professor Trafalgar?” She asks turning back to him.

Even though it's intended as a joke, the tone and... whole sentence sound unexpectedly specific. It's when the last two words sink in when Law stumbles on the cobblestones, though. “Wha'?”

“... careful.” she blinks at him. “And I asked about your improvised syllabus.”

Wait a sec here. “... I know it's none of my business and has little to do with the question, but... am I right to assume that you've had tertiary education?” He asks with an incredulous voice entering halfway through. Her vocabulary made him guess that she was from a well-off family, but that's not necessarily the case all of a sudden. For a small, but specific reason, he just never even considered it.

“I prefer to call it “the 1.5 years of my life I'd rather delete from memory without a trace,” but yes, I was at college,” comes the straight answer with a nod. She stares direction crossroads.

It just doesn't want to add up to him. Unless she's some genius, graduation does not come earlier than the age of 17; this was followed by up to two more years related to school, and now she's an established member of a town she's admittedly not from... it doesn't seem to make sense, because... “Sorry, but... you look like someone who just graduated.”

“Heheh, mom's genes,” she flashes a faint smile. “I'm 24... she also looked younger than her age until she hit about 40, even though she was always stressed from whatever she focused on. Time will eventually catch up with me. Also, no offense taken.”

Law takes a note of the fact that she hasn't looked anywhere else but the road ahead since the topic surfaced. Usually she would turn in the general direction of the person she's talking to, occasionally glimpsing into their eye, but this was just way too passive. He knows he hit some sensitive issues and decides to better leave it be. Either way, here he was thinking she's not older than 20... well, at least he's hopefully got a more mature student at hand than anticipated.

They take a right at a post with some signs on it, the one facing them and pointing towards said direction saying “Sheoo”. It's the main street- save for some horses, a mother and her two children, an elderly couple sitting under a tree, and another group of kids on bikes playing in the distance, there's noone outside.

“That's a Sunday morning for you... on a holiday, nonetheless.” She flips the sword around her neck as first intended and takes a smug look back at him. “And you threw a fit.”

He grunts and shrugs. Local holidays are one thing, and one doesn't really keep up with the days of the week on sea, either... unless they are a religious bunch, he supposes. At the same time he knew yesterday was a Saturday, so he has no right to complain. The people being inside is one blessing he's willing to count, though.

“Alright, let's just start and go over the basics,” he says donning the temporal professor position as they walk down the road, and goes through a list of abilities he gained in the period he's had his fruit. He's into it enough that she has to grab his collar by the time they pass the right corner.

“Turning... anyway, since I've already interrupted you, here's what I've gathered... if I get things working I can theoretically A: levitate things around me and have them switch places; B: cut stuff into pieces without causing any harm to the target; and C: zap the shit out of anything. All of these within a certain area I would need to define myself. Oh, and the target can be something abstract, as you've already illustrated. Is that it?”

“You didn't have to point the last thing out, but yes, that's it.” he replies after going through her abbreviated list. She picked up everything that was important, good- however... “Refer from doing that, would you.”  he adds, swatting her hand from the dress. The only ones who can give him unwanted attention are his crew. And, uh, Luffy, because he can't really get rid of him anyway. And Carrot, who is as touchy as Bepo... and maybe Chopper. Maybe. Goddamn fluffy critters and their soft, warm fur.

“... depends on the reach, but it sure sounds broken as hell to me, not gonna lie.” Especially if she compares things to the basic ability of 'can stretch really far'. Then again, this here also can be summed up as 'electricity aided transport' which is basically trams that are faster and better than those in the capitol Wenna two islands over, so whatever. She slows down and digs into her tote bag, listening for the key jingles.

“It's a big favorite for a reason, especially with the big shots.”

She raises an eyebrow and turns towards him at their stop, still fiddling inside the bag. “Okay, provided you are not shitting me... no, actually, while it's very useful, it really is not that interesting of a power. I'd love it for taking out the trash and securing a big, hot plate of soup with no risk of it splashing it about, but... what good would this do to a fat cat? They already have servants, if not straight-out slaves doing these things for their useless asses...” She grabs hold of a bunch of cold, clinking fishes in the sometimes seemingly bottomless sea on her side. “Honestly, I'm at a loss. Why the fuck would it be popular with anyone else but people interested in the body and healing?”

The way her logic splashes around towards the rant's conclusion amuses him quite a bit. Dare he...? Why not. “It's because there's this other thing you can do with it called 'Perpetual Youth Surgery'.”

“Sounds fancy enough... perpetual youth...” She's going through her one too many keys. A lot of them are antiques or haven't been used in years by the looks of it. “So basically whoever gets it stays young... forever. As in, forever forever?” she asks, looking back up, squinting in disbelief.

“Yeah.” The immediate exasperation on her face is amazing. She stops fidgeting with the keys, holding one that's likely the one she was looking for and turns to him.

“Let me get this straight... some idiots want to become immortal... and... and you sure as hell get these assholes chasing after you just because of this, too... right?”

He nods. Now, for the last stroke... “Doing it just once would also kill me, for the record.”

Her poker face cracks barely, and her control over her breath is also good... but from under the hat he can see the brows furrow just a bit more than usual, and hear the keys creak under her fingers, likely scraping off years worth of filth each other, revealing their true colors; most importantly, however, her eyes reflect the full scope of sheer indignation she feels after running through it all in her head again... she cannot find the words. After a minute she remembers he's also there, and lifts a finger asking for another moment to calm down. Then ready, set, go...

“I may not be the popular vote, but I'd rather receive a bullet to the head right now than become immortal. What kind of troglodyte thinks watching friends and family die all the time is a fun activity... then becoming too old to get new technology, too?” A short break with a quick, deep breath. “Some think it's hot stuff, but immortality is the most useless superpower ever.” The emphasizing hand swing at the end makes Law think she's going to throw the key cluster against the wall. Having let some of the steam out, she sniffs and adds a thought that squeezed itself among the others at the highest of her rage, one she cannot ignore: “Unless it's some self-entitled sick fuck with too much free time. Those only care about themselves anyway...” She inhales once more, to let out the rest of the stress. “Let's get inside... I think I'll pop that cider at last.” With that, she turns around to open the little gate leading up tho the narrow, two story row home she lives in.

He just nods. The conversation gave him a certain peace of mind- his body is in good, albeit untrained hands. She has no idea, nor will have any, because it won't show- but she just scored up to three cookie points in his book.

“Here you go, this... is my pants pile.” she states after raiding three different shelves across the board, dumping the big heap of fabric onto the bed. They finally reached the goal, that is the first floor bedroom overlooking the street. Walking out, she points at a cabinet next to the window. “The shirts and such are there, under the books- you can handle that yourself.”

“Okay,” he grumbles; he has all the info he needs. Although there's the temptation to ask where she's going, but judging by the noises she's just down in the kitchen and not planning on leaving the house, so he leaves it be and turns towards the task at hand.

A good chunk of what's not sweatpants seem to be denim; this is as good as a jackpot right now. He decides to look into the wardrobe first, though. There are no big surprises in there.... that extra thick pile to the far right, though... could it be...? He takes the red one out on top... Why, yes, those are all, indeed, hoodies. With neutral, if not rude content at the front. Nice.

He takes out half of the pile and sets it aside, then moves onto the T-shirts and sweaters; she's not very picky. There's virtually everything in there, ranging from pastel through smart-casual to straight-up goth, or some combination of these. Some simpler ones have seen a lot of wear, others are, as far as he can tell, brand new. Once he finds himself in a staring contest with Brook on a tee, he decides it's time to stop. Something about it seems off, though... the material is near new, but the paint is already missing from a spot or two... it's not like any Soul King merch he's seen either. A knockoff, maybe? At the same time, that really is some good fabric, so it doesn't quite add up. There were a few similar ones, too, now that he thinks about it...

He's turning around to put the rest of the pile back, when he notices some tubes and cans behind the corner of the cabinet. On the thick windowsill overlooking the street there's other stuff than just some pillows as he first guessed- he can also see what looks like blank paper, pencils, and... a few pieces of canvas propped to the side, maybe? He's more interested in the colorful bottles, though. He picks up the nearest one- blue fabric paint. Mystery solved, he guesses.

He takes one last look at the skull, then puts the pile of clothes inside. She did seem an artsy one, that one he won't dispute- never would have guessed the forms it manifested in, though. Looking around, there's also some small paintings dotting the wall- nondescript people standing in various places. Possibly sketched from imagination, as there's not much detail in most of them. The signature on the closest one says... well, Kat. Weird of her to not use her initials instead, but whatever. All in all, not his thing, but it's pretty decent stuff.

“You done sorting yet?” he can hear from the door, followed by a clink.

He turns around- she has a bowl in her right hand and is eating what appears to be cereal. Thinking about it, he only ever saw her shoving down snacks. And that medium pizza that she spirited away between him looking that direction twice. That one still haunts him. “Please tell me you eat actual food sometimes... also, no, I've yet to go through the pants. By the way, didn't you say something about a cider earlier...?” He asks with suspicion. She better not have drunk that before going for the cereal bowl.

Kat shrugs. And swallows. “First of all, we come here mainly for that stuff and I see you never even touched it? Dude... Second: I eat all the garbage I want to... also, I changed my mind when I saw the box.” Next spoon. “I'll have to drink that soon enough, though, bottle's near-expired. Didn't want to refuse it from my boss, you know? But booze is nasty, no matter the flavoring. Especially when there's no salty treats to eat it with.” She states, putting another spoonful into her mouth, then comes to an abrupt halt upon swallowing and her eyes go wide. “Oh, right... You have something against, what'sitcalled... gluten, right? If it's an allergy you better help me right now because I stuffed down half a package of whole grain cookies a minute ago.”

The amusement over her mild panic is suppressed by the notion itself, taking him by surprise. “No, I don't... where did you even get the idea?”

“Well, for starters,” she eats another dose, since apparently everything's alright, “I've seen you guys eat three times thus far, and you specifically? I have never seen you touch a sandwich... or those nice buttered baguette slices, although they were godlike. Meanwhile you snack on virtually everything else in front of you. So I just figured you might be intolerant.” She explains in confidence, ending with another shrug and a smaller spoon of cereal. The rest will be harder to get to... time to tilt.

This description makes Law oddly... nervous. He decides against voicing that, though. “I see... well... I just don't like bread. That's all there is to it.”

She stops chewing. “Zat's... a weed shois do have an avesshon do, not honna 'ie.”

It's his turn to shrug. “I ate nothing else for weeks straight at one time and got fed up. Most people have that, usually with an old favorite, no? I just cannot get it down my throat ever since.”

“Ah, yes... I'm like that with raisins.” she says. “Once I ate almost two whole packages... but by the end the little plant parts and stray seeds disgusted me. I couldn't eat them afterwards, picking them out of every cake and whatever else- lately I'm okay with the big, golden ones, though.” Nom. “Things I have no reason to dislike are green beans and licorice, though. One for the hairy texture, other for the taste. Oh, and I also won't eat peppers unless they are raw. They taste really weird when cooked. Or roasted... or anything.”

By the time she gets to the end of her self-indulgent monologue, he's already digging into the glorious pants pile. She takes a look at what he's picked so far, and... is mildly confused.

“Umm... you really wanna pack stuff for the next two months, or...?”

“...” Looking again, he has to admit that it really is a lot of clothes. Act natural... “Well, we cannot possibly know how long this whole ordeal will take, can we?”

“... fair enough. We can just come back, though. And wash.”

Okay, he's been had. “... touché. If you want to, just put the ones you definitely don't want to lose back to the others.”

She hums. As he resumes sorting through stuff, she remembers a certain piece from right over there, though. Shoving some clutter to the side, she makes some space for the rest of her cereal on the desk next to her and digs into the bottom of the pants pile, looking for something dark. Law seems to have found something noteworthy, too.

“Lace?” he raises an eyebrow. He's both baffled that jeans like this one exist, and slightly alarmed at the thought of 'it looks rather nice'.

“Oh, found that one? I already forgot about it... was a second hand bargain, brand new and a perfect fit... but it's not my style and such, so haven't worn it at all. Might as well keep it forever. Anyway,” she grunts, dragging out something,” here, this is the most 'you' piece I've got.” He's offered another pair of dark blue jeans with decorative black threads; she then steps over to the shirts and whatnot to cut the load. Law finds that the piece given to him also saw little wear thus far. He flips it open to take a better look, and notices... some additional yellow rhinestones around the pockets and knees...

He blinks. It's easy enough to guess what kind of stuff he's perfectly fine wearing, but combined with the previous gluten remark... it's getting worrying, to say the least. “... you are a rather scary woman, you know that?” he asks, still fixated on the garment and taking a mental note to just maybe mix up his wardrobe a little bit. Maybe not start a lace collection, but, you know.

She shrugs. “You know how the saying about the silent ones goes.” she jokes. Yes, he does, is part of the club, and that's what makes him antsy over here. “On a more serious note... if there's one thing I have going for me, then it's that I'm a good observer. So I'll take that as a compliment.”

“That's still a lot of details for us having met on Tuesday.” And he usually notices when being watched, not to mention the short timeframe- Kat is scary, goddammit. He's grateful to all the people with observation skills like these doing mundane things like taking care of the image of some shop instead of... tell it as it is, spy work and assassination. Speaking of observation, though... there's no guarantee, but he'll have to probe whether she has haki. If so, she's totally unaware.

“If it makes you sleep easier, you are not alone. I noticed odd habits all across the alliance board, with few exceptions.” She says, then realizes that this must have had the total opposite effect than intended. Some of the things she did notice would definitely fly a red flag if the person knew, too. “Okay,” she turns towards him, getting a look. “I know what you are thinking, and you are right: what I just said sounds way creepier. Let's just... pack these things and forget this conversation ever happened.”

He agrees with a hum, symbolically zipping his mouth. Grabs one more pair of pants to throw on the greenlit bundle a second later, though. For good measure.

The whole reaction appears silly to her... it does ease her anxiety somewhat, though. He can be cute if he wants to. “Ready?” she asks with a little smile. Her expression fades into a thoughtful one once she surveys the things they've sorted out, though. She still should have the thing that's perfect for this task. “I'll need to get the one big bag from the Dump for all this.”

He blinks. “The... Dump?”

“The door between here and the bathroom. It's a smaller place I've had no use for... so I just throw in whatever I don't need at the moment.” she explains, giving the beard a scratch again. “It's... kinda messy. If I can't spot it immediately, it might take a while. But multiple medium bags will also do, we have to find either.” There's, of course, the possibility that the lesser bags are all stuffed into that tent of a thing she used for moving in, though...

'I see,' is what he wants to say, but something's making noise at the entrance- it's the pile of junk she propped up for the bowl, except it wasn't a stable construction, and now... it's all sliding back to reclaim its rightful place on the desk, pushing the porcelain to the side by the second, until---

“Nonono---!” she squeaks, reaching towards the faraway object in vain.

Next thing she knows, though: she's holding it. Umm… correction: holding most of it. There's a small, but clean, and slightly angled cut at the top and the missing piece cracks unceremoniously on the ground. A chunk of her desk itself also falls, albeit on the bed she was reaching over- similarly to some of the victorious mess. The other part of it is burying the sad shards.

Law is about as surprised as she is- and also relieved. She... she did it. Decapitated just about everything, yes, but good enough for a start. Step one, which he was most concerned about, is done. As the shock fades, Kat's eyes light up- theory is one thing, but actually doing it... this... is goddamn cool.