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Mihawk finds himself in a quiet evening. There is only the soft sound of thread being pulled through fabric as he sits there with one leg crossed over the other. The needle passes at a steady pace through the small piece on his lap that he finds himself working on.

A slight tilt of Mihawk's head but it's not enough to go make him investigate. If anything the rowdiness makes him want to slip away into the darkness. For now, however, he sits and continues the languid pace of sewing.