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Summary
Shanks watches the marine hunter for some time, the smirk never quite leaving his mouth, settling in deeper each time Mihawk’s restraint threatens to crack.
“Just because I’ve accepted your assistance does not give you leave to mock me,” Mihawk says evenly, the breeze brushing back dark curls from his face. “I suggest you direct your attention elsewhere. Preferably where you’re steering.”
“Sorry,” Shanks shrugs, easy, like there’s nothing to it. “Just thinking.”
aka Shanks and Mihawk are stuck on a rowboat together a year after their first duel and Shanks can’t keep his mouth shut.