(It is, unsurprisingly, Mihawk. Mihawk who looked more or less like himself, except a bit tired, but otherwise in one piece. He had been looking around for Koby when he found him like this. Looking every bit as delicate as he felt, but worse. Something was wrong. Something that wasn't a monster Mihawk could cut down with his sword, something that couldn't be killed or chased away.)
And you are, apparently, sick.
(Something like being sick anyway. Frail. Infected, even, possibly. Mihawk moves closer and squats down, resting his elbows on his knees. He doesn't touch Koby, and doesn't move much closer. Instead, he looks up into Koby's face, his own expression carefully neutral.)
2
And you are, apparently, sick.
(Something like being sick anyway. Frail. Infected, even, possibly. Mihawk moves closer and squats down, resting his elbows on his knees. He doesn't touch Koby, and doesn't move much closer. Instead, he looks up into Koby's face, his own expression carefully neutral.)
Tell me how you feel.