"You know... you made my bed, and this is probably rude of me to say," she muses while assessing the captain's cabin where she will apparently spend training time, which is to say, a lot of time in the foreseeable future, "but... I have the greatest itch to tidy up this mess right now."
The desk, dresser, bed and bookshelves are doing fine, but anything below that... there's barely room to maneuver in there if the goal is to not step into anything. It's cluttered with all kinds of junk; clothes, maps and papers, a notebook, some of the thickest tomes she's ever seen, at least three chests, various surgical instruments -that better not be a syringe and scalpel poking out from behind that bag,- and just... dirt and dust everywhere, which are likely remnants of various herbs and powders he's fiddling around with down here. Because, no matter how stale the hot air is inside, there's just not enough "musty attic" to kill off the distinctive "consulting room" that engulfs the place; stepping inside was like hitting a solid wall made of heat and pharmacy. Law really ought to vent in here sometimes.
"Forget about that. Get rid of the bag and let's start already; we've wasted tons of time," is all he has to say to that while making some room himself by kicking some stuff to the side.
She sighs and drops the bag of clothes on his bed. Of which she's a little jealous of because of its size. Doing so, she spots another shiny item at the corner of said object.
"Oh, 10 Belly..." she murmurs once having it in her hand. Flipping it around, it seems a little unusual. "Hey, I have one of these lying around, too" she says once realizing that it's a rather unique one from about three years ago. No idea what kind of anniversary it was anymore, but the tail got a fancy makeover.
Taking interest in her statement, he stops fiddling around with what it seems to be wooden building blocks and takes a look himself.
"Ah," he says with the realization, taking it from her; "must have fallen off the case."
With that, he squats down and lifts a small blanket off a suitcase that has some more change lying on it. Picking them all up and opening the object reveals... at least a hundred, -but rather twice as many with some pockets hidden from view,- coins and bills, and just by seeing some examples of the latter, they all seem to be unusual.
She crouches down next to him to take a better look. "... you... collect these?"
"As you can see? Yes." he answers, slipping them each behind likely home made leather strip pockets. Getting to the last one, which is the coin she jut found, he takes an identical piece out for comparison's sake; the one he held in his hand seems to be in a worse shape, so he puts the coin he just took out back where it came from and tries to put the other in a nonexistent pocket. Goddamn lady jeans.
Concise summary of Kat: "Nerd."
"I'm no nerd," he assures her, downing the coin in an actual pocket at last.
"Not to be that person, Law, but the only thing nerdier than a surgeon collecting commemorative money in his underwater dungeon is the guy in speedo building gigantic robots next door and being really enthusiastic about it." Having said that and seeing his unimpressed expression, she pulls a nonchalant shrug.
He's just rolling his eyes at that.
"You act as if I just ate the last cookie in your jar," she sighs, shaking her head, then stands up. "Being nerdy is not a bad thing, you nerd." Turning around, she decides to see what he's been meddling with on the dresser.
"Are you saying this because you are a nerd, too?" he asks, also getting back onto his feet.
"Darn straight I am," she informs him, turning back with two finger guns before walking backwards to her current stop.
"..." Should have expected a similar answer by now. He's not even mad, neither at her, or himself.
She leans onto the piece of furniture to survey what's there. What appeared to be building blocks from afar seem to be small wooden boxes with tiny hook locks to make sure they stay closed; some almost too small for any use, others big enough to hold a thick necklace or so easily. Judging by the worn labels, he probably kept raw material for medication in them; likely to be totally empty right now. There's also a couple of untouched note blocks and some other stuff that seems to be broken, plus tiny objects like a small syringe tube. "So... what exactly will be my task here?" she asks, drumming on the hard wood with her fingers. Doing that she notes that he also should wipe the surface; the fingers of her right hand are now covered in more or less fine dust.
"First, you'll just try and switch around stuff from one of these," he pulls a note block to one end of the surface, "to another." Putting another block of paper notes in front of her, he places a pocket watch that hasn't ticked for who knows how long on top.
Simple enough; cannot cause too much harm to the paper, either. "... and this until I don't make see-through paper, then some more?"
"Exactly," he nods.
She sighs. Monotony is one of her greatest enemies... it shouldn't take that long to get it right, though? Right...?
Not quite. After about 5 hours of fooling around, she's sitting on his bed opposing the chest of drawers, resting her head on an elbow. She's managed to bore herself to nirvana next to the insufferable heat and low buzzing of the submarine and not even think of what she's supposed to do while swatting the pocket watch around, doing the same thing, and making the same mistake, over and over. Sometimes she takes the other hand to lean on and continues like that; the occasional other thought that surfaces is of what to draw or paint next time she's free. Which feels like a time that will never come. The upper sections of the unruly paper blocks must be minutes away from getting ground into the finest powder by now; she managed not to decimate shit about thrice. That's where the counter was two hours ago at least, before she gave up on life.
Law, meanwhile, has been reading a book at his desk; a bit earlier he stopped and started writing something rather furiously. Even before he left for those and just watched her, he didn't say a thing. It's been really quiet, which is usually nice, but under these circumstances she'd rather have at least more background noise than the occasional page turn, deep breath, and the hum of... whatever is nearby, probably an engine.
As the gears in her head start turning again a bit while thinking about this, he puts his pen down, sorts the paper sheets, then stands up. Crossing the gap between her and the target practice for the first time works like a magic charm, and she snaps out of her coma enough to stop doing what she's been told a while ago. Words are yet to be an option, but her moan is enough of a question to him.
"Going out to eat," he informs her while picking up his hat that she has put down next to her ages ago. Before he leaves, he stops in the doorway to turn back to her, which brings some much needed fresh(er) air: "Are you not hungry? It's half past two."
She grumbles, rubbing her eyes. "Will be fine till a late brunch... slash dinner." This power practice business has been rather taxing now that she's regained control over her senses.
"Alright, will be back soon. Try not to slack off too much." With that, he closes the door and she's left alone.
The second she cannot hear the clanking of the stairs, she leans back onto the bed. This sucks. Goddamn. There's no progress, either; she has probably more problems other than energy management, but hell if she has the slightest idea what it may be.
She looks to the side with the view to the sea; there is only a few schools of really tiny fish to be seen. More interesting is the wobbly book pile next to the bed, and especially the one that slid its way onto it. She reaches out to grab that one.
A book on the respiratory system. Wild. She flips through it; as expected, there are some illustrations inside. Including stuff like blackened lungs and cancer, how to cut open one's throat in an emergency, cysts, thrombosis and other lovely ailments; one of the first ones is an overview of the human body, though, with the skeleton, muscles, and skin in six images. She stops there to get a better look; been a while since she's seen any of these, might as well revise a bit.
Memorizing where the humeral muscles connect and how the shoulder blade looks again, the book is getting really heavy while holding it above. She starts lowering it ever so slightly, until it finally hits her temples; at this point, it's impossible to read. Or even see anything. Everything else is also rather hard right now; she doesn't feel like moving and just lets the book slip down her head. The pages are nice and cool, the room is still unnecessarily warm. At least she's used enough to the air to be unable to smell the antiseptic anymore. She could use some more lighting, it's rather dark in here... book with lighter half still on her head notwithstanding. If she had the willpower to stand up, she'd look for another switch. But she doesn't, and makes the mistake of closing her eyes for more than a moment.
Law enters again ten minutes later, and immediately sighs in resignation. He should have known...
Stepping over, he takes the book off his-her face. He considers waking her, but if she's done in enough to fall asleep, that wouldn't be of benefit anyway. It's not even much of a surprise; the power is not meant for extended use, after all, be it a small Room or a big one. Having said that, he checks on the book- he was looking at the case studies in the back last week, but what she could gather from any of this? A mystery.
Having no better idea, he leaves and kicks a bag into the doorway to let physics do its thing; the room has been needing more oxygen for an hour and now that he stepped inside, it's also been way too hot in there. Even for him. Or his temporal body. Thinking about it, the stuff he's wearing is rather thin, while his clothes on her... oh well. She really has all the rights to be knocked out. Should have done this earlier.
Stepping out of the submarine, he takes a deep breath. He hasn't come up since they arrived; it's nice and sunny with a breeze out. Being in the shadow of the Thousand Sunny makes it rather chilly, though, especially after the sauna inside; so he boards the allied ship instead. Leaning onto the railing, he can hear someone approach- it's Robin with her last cup of coffee for the day.
"Out alone? Where'd you leave little-big Miss Kat?" she inquires before sipping.
"KO'd herself on my bed while practicing as soon as I took my eyes off her," he says while enjoying the sunshine on his back.
She chuckles and puts the coffee and newspaper down on the nearby table. "She's an amusing girl."
"That she is." He sighs. Amusing is one way to put it; not a ditz, thankfully. Speaking of amusement, though, there was that word she said when she was ranting outside her house... what was it again... goddammit. "By the way, Nico-ya, do you know what a... 'trogomite' or whatever is?"
He's never seen Robin laugh that hard before, and probably never will again.
