He supposed to could be called annoying the way he had decided to hunch over the other man, something almost akin to a vulture as ruby hues scanned over the words scrawled on the paper. A rustling sound could be heard as he shifted restlessly. The notion that Trafalgar was an interestingman had flown out the window when he had entered the room.
Everything was just so– quiet. Though he was comparing it to the clutter and chaos of his own tin bucket he called a ship.
Law very consciously and very pointedly leans away from how Kid hovers over him, cutting his eyes toward the firecrotch in an obvious display of agitation.
“Did you just imply that my ass is a grease-trap?”
Laughter nearly bubbles out of his chest from a mix of amusement and incredulity but he swallows it down last minute, though a grin twists his mouth into something close to pleasant - it was intent on staying in its natural position to help Kid take a hint; a constant, comfortable frown that usually kept unwanted conversation at bay. But he should have known better -- as if Kid could pick up on social cues. Smile or no, it wouldn't matter because it wouldn't make him leave any faster.
One cannot be mad at a dog for doing what a dog does.
"'Not doing any harm' - no, not yet," he says, swivling in his chair to better face his guest. "But I doubt you can guarentee good behavior for the duration of this ..." Law waves his hands, trying to find the word and hope he can unconver what it was Kid wanted.
"Social? - personal? - business? -- visit."