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Summary
“‘Ve been killed by him before.” His voice is huge—somehow, deep, resonant, unstrained, moving with a rippling sensation through Zoro’s body, he can’t remember having heard it so whole before. Perhaps it’s his own shade of warmth in it, making it feel so. He curls down towards Zoro, shrinking towards him with an unnatural flex of the spine. In reception, Zoro extends his arms upwards, touching his throat with the flat of both palms before knotting his elbows up around his nape.
Killer speaks to his lips now, and the sound of it plugs Zoro to the extremities, “It ain’t so bad.”