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Prince Rosinante burst into Law's room holding a huge wooden trunk. Law looked up from his books in alarm.
"Cora?" he asked as Rosinante practically dropped the huge trunk. It made no sound, instead sparking purple with his magic. "What's wrong?"
Rosinante kneeled by Law's desk and took Law by the shoulders.
"Law," he said, in his soft, low voice. It was scratchy from smoking too much, and from his king and brother once crushing his throat. "Law, listen, we're going to play a game, alright?"
"What?"
"We're going to see if you can fit in here, and be very, very quiet, alright?" Rosinante continued, ignoring the interjection. "And then we're going to see how far this coat can take us from its maker before the flight magic gives out."
Law hesitated. Being stuck alone in this circular room in this tower for days and nights and days and nights with only books was already hard. The dark insides of the wooden trunk were a lot smaller.
"Sounds like a shitty game," he said. "And the coat is a thrice-wrought artefact by royal standard mages, it shouldn't give out over any space or time short of a thousand years."
Rosinante smiled weakly, and couldn't refute it.
"Give it a try?" he asked, instead. "For me."
Law looked at the inside of the trunk. It was padded, and lined with satin, fit for a king or at least a prince. He had a good feel for space, so he knew he would fit, if he hugged his knees to his chest and bent his head forward. It wouldn't be comfortable, but he would fit. He looked at Rosinante and the prince smiled very widely, though it didn't reach his eyes.
Law sighed and pushed his chair back from his desk.
"For you," Law grumbled, stepping into the box. "But I get to say I told you so later."