Zoro and Sanji - no shipping in this one.
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Zoro pushed open the door to the galley as a yawn escaped his throat. He'd just spent a good hour napping, and some booze sounded really good right about now before he went off to lift weights.
The swordsman didn't make it very far into the room though before he halted.
The room smelled of chocolaty baked goods, and sitting upon the counter was a rather small cake that was more than likely only recently baked if the sweet scent in the air was anything to go by. It seemed Sanji, who was standing next to the confection, had just finished spreading the frosting on mere seconds ago as he was just stepping back to look the whole thing over when he noticed Zoro. "Oh, hey Marimo."
The room was still and quiet for a few seconds, and just as the blond began to raise his curly eyebrow in question of it, the first mate finally spoke.
"Why is the frosting red…?" It really was red too - and not just a plain old boring red, but a deep crimson almost. He couldn't fathom why it was or why the cook would even want it that color.
"Oh, that?" The chef's words rolled off his tongue as if there was nothing special about it. "It's 'cause I made it with the blood of my enemies."
Zoro didn't say anything at first, but he then shook his head dismissively. "Right…" He let loose a small chuckle at the blond's poor humor. "But seriously cook, why is it red?"
"I am being serious."
Another moment of silence passed as the swordsman rolled the response around in his head. He glanced back at Sanji, noting the stony expression on the cook's face, and a cold chill made it's way down his spine as he realized the man really wasn't kidding.
The realization caused all color to suddenly drain from Zoro's face and his eyes widened ever so slightly. Then, without saying a single word, he slowly backed back out of the room; his hand resting on the hilt of Kitetsu in a defensive manner as he did so.
Note to self: the cook is fucking insane!