Somewhere on the sea, far from the nearest physical Marine presence but seemingly never far enough from their interceptor snails, Crocodile had finally finished setting up his new basic transponder snail system. It was a different one from the set he'd had before and not as secure as he would have liked: he hadn't been able to get his hand on one of those rare snails that blocked the interceptors, but Daz had proposed a far simpler to find method before he had gone off to do his part in Crocodile's new plans. Crocodile stared at it right now, allowing himself a moment of annoyance for losing his easier life that had made this sort of thing unnecessary.
"I'm not a man who hides his face, Daz."
"If you can do it figuratively, you can do it literally. Boss."
Bristling a little at the memory, not to mention at the liberties Daz took these days, Crocodile stared at his disguise. So simple, so grating. The pair of sunglasses was at least large enough to hide most of his scar along with his eyes, but he was a man who stuck to his own style. This wasn't it. At all. If it had been anyone else but Daz who asked...
...yes, well, that was the point, wasn't it. It wasn't just his own safety Crocodile had to think of now. Crocodile sighed, put on his pair of sunglasses, and started the call.
It took Daz an unnervingly long time to answer. Crocodile was about ready to start tapping his hook when the snail's face finally turned into a... ah. Well. If Daz had meant to look less like a pirate, the black patch covering his scarred right eye and the fake beard on his square chin achieved the exact opposite of that. They did hide some of his more distinguishable features, though, and Crocodile grudgingly supposed that it was the whole point of this disguise thing.
"Took you long enough," he grumbled after a moment of staring at the altered version of the face he hadn't seen in weeks. He wasn't sure what the voice changer snail made him sound like to Daz, and somehow he wasn't sure he'd like to hear what it did to Daz's voice.
"Had something to take care of, Captain," Daz said, playing his fisherman role. Slightly higher pitch. An added touch of an accent that probably came from his home island. Still familiar enough, somehow, and some of the tension left Crocodile's shoulders.
He nodded, glad that his ridiculous sunglasses hid his expression. Knowing Daz, who certainly knew Crocodile, he had probably planned for that all along. Crocodile spent a moment grinding his teeth in the absence of his cigar. "...big catch?"
The snail's beard twitched. "Small fry." The visible eye rolled with contempt. "We'll have to find a better spot soon if we want a decent haul. We have... 'families' to feed, don't we."
Crocodile had to stifle an amused snort as he thought of his crew as 'family'. Impel Down's fourth level would freeze over sooner than Crocodile would consider his crew any more than useful. Hell, he barely even trusted them to achieve that much.
"How's the weather been over there?" he asked but didn't mean literally.
The snail tried not to look bored. "Calm, mostly. Not much making waves over here."
"Hmm." That was not what the papers had been implying lately, but Crocodile trusted Daz to assess the area's threat level according to his own skill. Convenient thing sometimes, trust. "It's been a bit worse here. Clouds have been gathering for a long time, and the sky is starting to look darker again."
This time the snail simply nodded. Daz read his papers too, after all. "Yes... sounds like a storm is coming. Be careful, Captain."
Daz didn't need to tell Crocodile to be careful any more than he needed to inform him of the potentially disastrous Reverie, but damned if it didn't somehow manage to warm the shrivelled lump sitting in Crocodile's chest. He swallowed the rising feeling at once; Daz would stay calm and professional during the call, but sooner or later they would meet again in person, and Daz had an infuriating tendency to remember these things far longer than necessary.
"Well, looks like a wind is rising as well," Crocodile said quickly, reaching for his glass. He remembered mid-reach that he was supposed to be a rugged sea captain who would have used a stein instead. No drink for him. Damn it. "Strong enough to blow the clouds away." Dragon. Dragon rising against the Celestial Dragons.
"Then I hope the skies will be clearer soon," said Daz. "Captain, was there something you wanted to say? You don't usually call just to chat about weather."
Crocodile blinked. Daz did have a point there; they were just using code to discuss things they both already knew, and the rest was nothing Crocodile had to concern himself with since Daz was so capable. Why had he called?
"Maybe I do now," he grunted, looking away. "Call just to chat about weather, I mean. Is that a crime these days?"
The snail's visible eye narrowed in that achingly familiar way that told Crocodile Daz was trying very hard not to grin. It was a relatively new expression in their relat... partnership, but Crocodile had seen it fairly often in the time they had spent together building their new crew and making their new plans. He wasn't the only one swallowing his feelings, after all.
"Well, I'm fine here, Captain. Safer than you are." The snail's eye looked away. "Don't get wet. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold."
Crocodile was so damn glad for these sunglasses now. All he had to do now was keep his voice level. Another job for arrogance, then. "Pff. What do you think I am, some cabin boy?"
The eye returned. It narrowed again. "Oh? I seem to recall you weren't so careful getting our latest crewmember."
"Listen, you..." Crocodile's teeth felt the lack of cigar to soften the grinding, and he had to sit back and compose himself for a moment. His eyes turned to the little dog sleeping calmly in his comfortable and, of course, expensive bed. It had taken some effort to bring it in without anyone from the crew noticing, but it had been worth it to see the pup wag his tail. Had been worth ruining his coat in the rain, come to think of it. "You come say that to my face, you bastard."
"I hope I get the opportunity soon," countered Daz, and Crocodile knew him well enough by now to detect the hint of softness in his voice. It made the lump in his chest twitch to life again.
"I'll mop the deck with you, so don't..." he said through his teeth. Oh, this one was tough to swallow. "Don't get... rusty over there."
The snail's eye blinked once, then a few times. "...right, Captain."
"Right."
A muffled cough. "Anyway..."
"Yes, your job." With a great deal of effort, Crocodile pulled himself together and unclenched the fist he hadn't even noticed balling. "It was nice to talk. I'll call you again."
"Please do," replied Daz with that soft voice, as if trying to make this as hard as possible. He redeemed himself with the brief farewell that followed. "Later, Captain."
"Later." Crocodile quickly disconnected and put the snail away before removing his flimsy disguise. He ran his hand through his hair to give it something to do, turning to glance at the perfectly non-stormy clouds visible from his window. If the Marines did bother to listen to the calls of independent fishermen, they'd probably wonder if the captain's sunglasses were a tad too dark. The thought amused Crocodile for a moment.
"Or sooner, I hope," he muttered to himself. As he turned back from the window, he noticed his new 'crewmember' looking up from his little bed and wagging his tail. Crocodile grinned. "Hungry, eh?" He went to get the gold-plated cup (that had been much easier to smuggle in) and began to fill it with dog food (only the best, of course). "Better eat well so you grow up strong. Teach a certain someone to talk shit about us."
The dog gave him the puppy eyes despite already being assured that he was going to be fed.
"No need to get cute with me," Crocodile told him with his best dismissive tone even as he knelt with the cup, hand already itching to scratch the puppy's head. It had been a little lonely here lately. "Suppose you need a name if you're going to stay."
The dog wagged his tail again and bent down to eat.
"Maybe I'll call Daz tomorrow and ask for his opinion. That would serve him right." The lump in Crocodile's chest seemed to have made it into his throat. He tried to swallow it, but it was even tougher than the last one. Trying not to think about the state of his clothes too much, Crocodile sat down on the floor with the dog and stayed silent.