WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT IN LATER CHAPTERS. FOR MATURE READERS ONLY.
Perona scanned the turquoise waters surrounding the island of Water 7. The sunlight sparkled marvelously on the water's surface, but Perona didn't notice. She was looking for a speck, any sign of his ship, and instead finding only a seemingly endless stretch of waves. She tucked her head into the space between her knees and sighed.
"There's no sign of the ship," she told Dracule Mihawk. Not that he seemed to care. He didn't appear overly concerned about the Water 7 shipwrights being late, it seemed, he was happy as long as he had rum.
Dracule padded across the sand and sat down heavily beside her. "Have a drink, love," he slurred as he shoved the bottle under her nose. She pushed it away without looking up. A light breeze sent the overwhelming stench of rum her way.
Why the hell did she have to be stuck on his island with someone who stank like, like….a drunken pirate. She giggled aloud at her own accidental joke.
"Dracy, till you ship os repaired were stuck here for who knows how long." She refused to admit that she couldnt wait to set sail. "At least it'll give us ample opportunity to indulge in a few …" Mihawk interrupted her with a dismissive motion of his hand. She lifted her chin and gave the pirate a disparaging glance.
"I can certainly thing of a few 'indulgences', love?" Mihawk leered at her suggestively and she caught the flash of his white teeth. Perona rolled her eyes. As if she would ever consider him in that respect. Perona straightened herself up and gave him a hard look.
"Im taking a bath," she informed him in a matter of fact tone.
Mihawk grinned even more broadly. "I'm assuming you want me to assist."
"I most certainly do not."
Mihawk had the nerve to look confused. "What are you getting at then?"
"You're pervert."
Dracule chuckled. Perona got another whiff, this time was a subtle, spicy scent intermixed with the sweat and oily scents. Perona had the sudden urge to lean in closer and try to determine the source of the surprisingly pleasant scent. Instead, she shrugged Dracule off of her shoulder and stood up.
"Suit yourself then, love" he called out as Perona stalked off.
Sometime later
Mihawk folded his hands behind his head and leaned back against the sun-warmed sand. He closed his eyes against the sun's glare, but his lips still held a small smile.
Perona watched him from a distance. The smile softened his features and made him seem younger, less jaded. She wondered what he could possibly be thinking that would make him seem so peaceful.
Perona was drunk. Not nearly as drunk as Mihawk, mind you, but she was feeling the effects of the rum nonetheless. She was certainly drunk enough to engage in a little suggestive banter with the captain. She'd taken up his offer of rum almost as a way of apologizing for the incident earlier this morning. Not that she had anything to be sorry about, she reminded herself, what did it matter if she'd uncorked a few bottles of rum into the water?
Perona rolled the events of the evening over in her mind. She'd been laughing and dancing around their little campfire, acting quite foolish. It hadn't seemed so silly at the time, however, since Mihawk had been doing the same. The two of them fell drunkenly in the sand together. Dracule wasn't being particularly flirtatious and of that Perona should have been relieved. She was drunk off rum, and very lucky that Dracule was leaving it at that.
But she didn't feel lucky at all. She felt…mischievous. She looked over at him and realized his face was only inches from her own. His close proximity caught her by surprise. The shadows cast by the fire gave his eyes a hooded look.
"Oh." He shifted a little closer and she could now see the gleam of firelight in his eyes. His eyes seemed to bore into her own and it made her decidedly nervous. She searched for something to say, trying to appear unruffled under his intense gaze"
he grinned back at her, the humor in his tone belying his words. "Although the company is better and the scenery much more admirable…." He edged towards her again and tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Perona attempted to pull herself up and out if his reach but he pulled her back again.
"Dracy," she told him with mock-sternness, "I'm not sure I've had enough rum to hear such talk."
He chuckled at the statement and took another long draught from his bottle of rum. He leaned back too far as he guzzled the potent liquid and tumbled backwards. He was out cold.
"Drach," Viola called out. There was no response. "Mihawk?" she tried again before she realized he was out for the night. It was a pity. She'd rather enjoyed flirting with Mihawk this evening. But only because of the rum, she was quick to remind herself.
She lay there awake until the blazing campfire had become smoldering embers, gazing up at the brilliant array of stars above her with Dracule Mihawk's slumbering form warming her side.
