(Okay, well. That's just unfairly charming. Mihawk flashes a quick, but sincere grin. A rare expression. The idea is kind of absurd.) I'm trying to be...oh, what's the word? ...Kind, is it?

That is the only sane reply one could make about someone's age. (Let's be real. He relaxes his hold somewhat, and part of him expects Koby to move away from him as well. It would only make sense. It's not like they spent their together huddled up like this. It was an exception, Mihawk told himself. One of comfort and necessity with whatever was going on with Koby's body. It would be an embarrassment if he failed to keep Koby from dying just because he refused to keep the cadet close when he needed it. If he even needed it.

Koby's right. Mihawk had no interest in controlling Koby or telling him what to do, and he hasn't since they arrived. Whatever choices Koby made, he encouraged. He was far from a pirate like Alvida (ahem, ex-pirate. Technically.)

The question gets a thoughtful, short hum from Mihawk.)

Frankly, I don't spend much time around anyone enough to bother memorizing that sort of thing. I do know the steps of people I have worked with or fought.

(But this wasn't either of that.)

Careful, darling, we don't want you to shatter. (Another tease because he's pretty sure that Koby is getting better. He looks better.)

Yet you would make such a cute kitten. Or perhaps puppy.