than what are sure to end up as a few bruises.

He (sadly) was always of a more fair constitution given his lineage.

Cora sighs, winces, ears taking in laughs and (instead of looking up) favors trying to find his hat instead.

all attention going ass over teakettle.

Hands brace enough to roll with his fall (falling enough to learn to handle it better over the years) so he tumbles and lands at least upright and doesn't break his nose.

Palms smart. Cora's hat fallen off and coat a mess of feathers, but unharmed other >>

wanted to sneak passed, pay his tab, and leave. That he ended up crashing.

Literally.

Shoe catching on the door frame, doing his best as a hulking 9ft something male could do to sneak, and taking a wonderfully loud and dramatic nose dive down the stairs head first.

Just his luck. Sure to draw >>

through territories or making U-turns to avoid others.

Some (however) were harder to keep track of that others. Erratic. Unpredictable. And (of course while sleeping in a bed too small for him in this inn) he'd woken up to find a proverbial party happening in the lower floors.

A party that he >>

her.

Cora holds out his free hand (palm up and fingers fanned out in welcome) without judgement to her.

smile. Beaming just because Law is there.

The nostalgia warms him.

"What happened?"

He's not laughing. Not really. He's hiding it well enough.

his secret savior. How a tiny child managed to save him from himself with bitter spite and a knife.

A boy who gave Rosinante his humanity back.

Hands pluck up the tiny thing without thinking (why would he ever hesitate to scoop up his boy?) and cradle Law into a cocoon of feathers with a huge >>

sand and dirt on sandstone bricks. He doesn't hear steps coming his way. Not until they are too close and he flinches hard enough to topple over.

Startled and confused.

it.

All he can do is slump against a wall. Sinking and sinking and sweating to the point he thinks this was a mistake.

Papers had mentioned something. Mugiwara? There had been a connection to Law there somewhere. He knew. (Poorly trying to keep tabs) And it led him here.

Helpless. Sat in the >>

though. (Even as the tall male with blood colored eyes had paid the vendor too for it.)

Enough commotion he's sure to draw in someone in charge. Maybe. Possibly.

Cora doesn't know how this little hive works yet.

are enough that most are avoiding him as they go about their day.

It draws more attention, sure. But no one's brave enough to step in front of him to question who he is, where he came from, why he's here.

Cora does feel bad for the trembling man fumbling to make him a stick of cotton candy >>

rainbow of bustling folk doing work or setting up shows.

Word had spread about the bounties put on marines by this infamous Cross Guild.

So maybe Cora had gotten nosy about it. A sigh of smoke and the perks of being as large as he is and scary as he could look (thank you for one thing Doffy) >>

can look sat at a café table that brings his knees up far too high in a chair too short.

Hiding behind a newspaper and peeking out in his spying.

against the fall foliage backdrop.

He's there. Standing next to the Polar Tang in awe and terror (because holy fuck he didn't mean to just walk up to it!!!) as he spots a figure from a decade ago (only seen in pictures now) right before him.

"...Law..."

Of all the times to not be silent. Damn it.

Hazard. A mess. Dressrosa. A horror show.

And Cora trailing behind (barely able to keep up).

It was with surprise does this tiny town allow him to recuperate the distance. Some small island (Maple Island? He can't remember) set in Autumn backdrop that Cora misses the color of the submarine >>