Tired would be an understatement.

The redhead's half-lidded eyes struggling like mad to stay open as she neatly places one of her jumpers in her suitcase, picking up another and taking a single look at it before shoving it into a trash bag. 

They say it's best to have a clean out when you're moving home, less things to shift.

Her aching legs protesting as she reaches for a dress, observing it up and down before folding it up and laying it inside the case also, it's not suitable for ballrooms but it's formal enough to wear for work. 

Finally deciding to take a seat on the edge of her bed to recollect her strength, her hand sliding her left sleeve up as her scabbing tattoo catches on her sweater, causing her skin to itch. 

Of course she's aware she can't exactly scratch it but she hopes that allowing some air to it will help, her gaze resting on the ink work while her finger softly brushes against it, trying to subtly relieve the itchy sensation without causing any damage, her brow rising as a bit of the scab flicks off.

It looks as though it's healing up nicely, a small smirk tugging on her lips at the sight, however she's quick to pull her sleeve back down when she hears a knock on her bedroom door.

"Kyo," Her father's voice sounds before the door slowly creaks open, he knows that she would've shouted out for him not to enter by now if she wasn't decent, though she soon finds herself wishing she had when his golden eyes rest on hers briefly before they scan the room. "Roronoa has returned--Where are you going?"

His intense stare glued to the suitcase sat on top of her bed as she shrinks slightly, she had intended on telling him the news later on tonight but it would seem that idea isn't going to plan.

"I'm moving out." She admits with a shaky voice, her tired orbs watching for his every reaction; the look in his eyes, checking if his mouth twitches as it often does when he's furious, seeing whether or not his brows furrow or rise.

But she gets nothing, he doesn't seem to respond at all.

It's almost more frightening than seeing him get angry.

"What bought this on?" He quietly questions, his deep voice void of emotion as his cold gaze shifts back to hers, his expression finally shifting as his dark brows knit together. "Why do you insist on being so difficult as of late?"

Well, it was never going to be easy...

"I just figured it was best for us both, we've been stepping on each other's toes ever since you've come back." She could barely muster the words as she instinctively fiddles with her fingers, her eyes trailing down to the ground, unable to hold his gaze as she continues. "Maybe some space will do us both some good."

Her father not seeming at all convinced however, a scoff escaping his lips as he approaches the girl, tucking a finger underneath her chin and lightly tapping at her skin, urging her to look him in the eye before he retracts his hand. He does so hate it when people avoid his gaze. 

It's spineless. 

Naturally when she tries to hold his stern glare, she merely crumbles; her hands trembling as she silently reminds herself to breathe, his hawk-like eyes burning into her very soul as he clicks his tongue. 

"What is this, some kind of tantrum because you don't like Perona? And how many times have I told you to take that thing out of your face?!"

"I like my piercing." It takes courage for her to talk back to this man, shoving her immediate guilt and shame aside as she continues. "And I like my new apartment, there is no other reason for my decisions." 

He seems to relax somewhat at that information at least, his glare softening ever so slightly as a curious hum rumbles in his throat, his arms folding over his chest although he still looks rather irritated with the girl, if nothing else. 

"Where are you moving to?" 

"One of Shanks' apartments--"

"Of course." Mihawk's tone as icy as ever, it's always Shanks who interferes, at least he knows she'll be getting a fair deal though. His shoulders slowly beginning to relax as he huffs to himself, stepping away from her and instead beelining toward the wardrobe. "I suppose I should help you pack."

Huh? 

"You don't have to do that for me."

"Obviously. I'm choosing to." The raven not even sparing her a glance as he folds one of her dresses before setting it down inside her suitcase, it looks like clearing things out won't be an option after all but she isn't about to complain, it's just nice to have her father be civil about it. 

The next thing he takes out of the wardrobe bringing a tiny and almost unnoticeable smile to his lips; it's a thin white scarf with black skulls imprinted on it, the accessory even causing Kyo to smile as fond memories fill her mind.

 "You bought that for me, didn't you? For my birthday?" She must have only been about 8 at the time.

"I did." His voice sounding much more composed now as he passes the scarf to her, allowing her to take a look at it herself before it's packed away, it'll come in handy around winter time for sure. "You've always liked skulls...cried when I first showed you a real one though."

That memory earning her father a subtle snicker, although his stare is more focused on something else, something that catches his eye as she leans over to pack her scarf. 

Yes, she did cry indeed. He didn't know at the time that she had already seen a real one when her mother decided to shoot herself in the head, the impact blew half of her skull away. 

Mihawk naturally wastes no time in reaching out to grab the girl's forearm, not missing how she winces at his touch although he feigns ignorance while his eyes study her pale face. "Roll up your sleeve for me." A request that she reluctantly abides by once he releases her, since she's fully aware he doesn't ask nicely twice. 

His brows knitting as she exposes the black cross to him, his mouth ever so slightly ajar, as if he wants to speak but simply chooses not to - the expression being enough to potentially scar her for life, Dracule Mihawk simply does not fall speechless under any circumstances.

This is different from him and it's scary. 

"I got it because it reminded me of you..." A pathetic attempt to cushion the blow, really.

A pathetic attempt that seems to work to some extent though, the raven's expression doesn't really change but the sharpness in his eyes does soften, ever so slightly. 

A low hum rumbling in his throat while he runs his finger against the flaking design, unknowingly causing a shudder to run down his daughter's spine, it's not that he'll ever harm her. 

He's strict, yes. But he has never laid a hand on her. 

There was once a time he expressed why, when he bathed her for the first time upon adopting her, she was young so she needed help washing at the time. He saw the scars her mother had left on her back, his livid words still resonate with her to this day.

Only cowards attack children. 

She's not exactly a child anymore but she is petite and female, one would assume the same rules apply to her. 

But that doesn't stop her feeling a bit of fear every time he's mad, just in case she pushes him too far one day. Perhaps her mother's version of parenting haunts her more than she realizes. 

"It certainly suits you..." Mihawk suddenly murmurs with surprisingly no indication of anger to his tone, finally pulling away from her arm and returning to the wardrobe, resuming his previous task. "If you get another one though, do have it where it won't be so easily seen. I want you to look professional at work."

What?! He's so calm!

She isn't quite sure whether or not to trust it, her eyes practically the size of dinner plates as she nervously nods her head in understanding, not taking daring to look away from the man for even a second. 

"Y-Yes, papa!"

"While we're here, I suppose I should ask; is there any other surprises you might have for me?"

She considers the Picasso painting for a brief moment but Drake did say to leave it to him, of course if he comes up with nothing, then it might be in her best interest to let her father know.

But for now...

"No, that's everything."