You stood at the door of the spacious dining hall, leaning casually against the frame. With your arms crossed and a slight smirk on your face, you watched the mysterious swordsman as he sat occupying the large, throne-like chair at the head of the long table.
He had discarded his usual embroidered coat and feathered hat in favour of a light, airy shirt that left his powerful chest exposed, and a pair of tight fitting black pants. A book lay open before him, his liquid gold gaze skimming across the pages, and a glass of red wine was held delicately between the long, pallid fingers of his right hand. He showed no signs that he had noticed your presence, but you knew that nothing got past the infamous Dracule ‘Hawk-Eyes’ Mihawk.
You sauntered over to him, perching yourself on the arm of the chair and leaned over his shoulder. You noticed his eyebrow twitch in annoyance. He did not look up from his book, but his pupils had stopped moving and you coul