Sanji woke up the next morning feeling bad.

Not in a sickly sense, though his headache hadn't gone away and his body was sore from where it had bruised from the fight he'd had with Zoro. He felt bad in terms of his character, as though he'd done something mean and deserved to be reprimanded for it.

And he did, he realized; he'd been incredibly rude towards Zoro when he'd asked for money, and although he didn't feel apologetic in the slightest, (really, it was the punk's own fault for offering a ride in the first place), he did feel that his character had suffered for refusing to pay him. He knew that, if circumstances had been changed, and he was the one giving rides to Zoro, he would have wanted money for it, too, and would have pitched a royal fit if the ungrateful bastard hadn't at least compensated him for the spent gas.

Lying in bed, he stared up dismally at the ceiling and thought about the unfairness of life.

Yesterday's bad manners, he thought, could be written off due to the fact that it was Saturday and he had no real control over himself on Saturdays because of whatever unfortunate curse it was that plagued him. If he had, he probably wouldn't have been 'fired', and his car would still work, and then he wouldn't have even needed to meet Zoro in the first place.

And oh, shit, his fucking car.

He groaned miserably and turned over on his bed to lie face down on his pillow. Even if he hadn't been fired, Saturday's curse would still have carried over into today when it had damned his car's battery. Those things didn't fix themselves on their own.

Which meant he'd need a ride to an auto store.

Turning his face to the side, he glanced at the digital display of his alarm clock and noted that it was only 6:30 in the morning. He'd had a late night, and tiredly closed his eyes again to get some more rest.

Obviously, he would deal with his problems later.

When next he woke, it was at the much more reasonable hour of 10:30. He felt groggy as he sat up and yawned, but ignored it as he stood and stretched his back. He casually dressed himself in the clothes he'd worn yesterday and went into the bathroom that connected to his room.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror listlessly and began to brush his fringe into place with his fingers. He looked paler, somehow; tired, even though he'd just woken up. Faint, dark circles underlined his eyes and the goatee he was growing looked unkempt and unprofessional. He looked like he needed a cigarette.

Though it was an unofficial rule, smoking in the apartment units was typically frowned upon by the Thousand Sunny Acres staff and could land the tenant with a fine if they were caught. He hated having to go outside to have a smoke, but was left with no other choice. He grumbled to himself irritably as he trudged into the main living area of his apartment and looked out the window.

One of the perks of living in an apartment on the ground floor, he'd found, was that he was able to see everything that went on in the parking lot. He didn't consider himself to be much of a snoop, but it was handy when it came to watching out for women.

He was hoping to see one of the ladies he occasionally smoked with as he put on his overcoat and tapped on his shoes, but he scowled when he saw instead the face of the punk he'd lately become all too familiar with.

Zoro was outside, standing around aimlessly and looking bored on the sidewalk that lined the parking lot. Sanji sighed as he fished his hand into the pocket of his coat to withdraw his new pack of cigarettes, and paused when his fingers were met with the small baggie of weed that'd been thrust upon him last night instead.

The main reason he hadn't wanted to pay Zoro, (besides being cursed with Saturday night agitation), was because he didn't carry cash. His paychecks were directly deposited into his bank account, which meant, essentially, he never had a need to carry cash around. Even if he had wanted to pay Zoro last night, he wouldn't have been able to unless he'd paid for it directly himself. The idiot had pre-paid for it before he'd even brought up the fact that he wanted compensation, leaving Sanji to figure, again, that this was all that morons fault.

Frowning, his fingers tightened around the bag and pulled it out. He stared at it and wondered if maybe this would be enough to make up for it. He had no plans to smoke it himself, anyway.

Glancing out the window again to make sure Zoro was still out there, Sanji dropped the weed back into his pocket and stepped outside.

The first thing Sanji noticed was that it wasn't as chilly as it had been yesterday. His coat was largely unnecessary, but he felt it was too late now to go back and change. The second thing he noticed as he walked out of the breezeway was that Zoro was walking his dog, and it had suddenly become aware of him.

It lunged, snarling, and almost yanked itself free of Zoro's surprisingly lax grip. Sanji shouted and stepped back as it barked, and Zoro seemed to have to exert all his might to keep his dog from going after him.

"Chopper, no!" he yelled, pulling hard at the leash while Sanji stood staring at him, far too surprised to move. "Chopper!"

"What the fuck is wrong with your dog?!" Sanji found himself saying, shaking out of his stupor to take offense.

He'd heard that Zoro's dog was big, but seeing it in person was overwhelming. Big, he realized, was an understatement; the thing was huge- monstrously so.

"What the fuck do you want?" Zoro growled through grit teeth, focusing hard on keeping his dog under control. Chopper's hackles were raised as he strained hard at the leash, saliva dripping from his mouth as he growled lowly in Sanji's direction. It looked as though he could yank himself free of Zoro's grip at any time, momentarily causing Sanji to forget what he'd wanted to say.

Ignoring the way his hands had begun to shake at the threat of the massive dog coming after him, he went to take out his pack of cigarettes and remembered what he'd come outside for when his hand brushed the baggie of weed.

"I uh, was going to apologize about last night," he said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. His eyes never left Chopper, who was still pulling purposefully against his lead. "I need to give you the stuff we got from, uh, Johnny, last night."

Zoro looked confused for a moment and frowned.

"What? Why?" he asked stupidly, and then shook his head and yelled at Chopper when he lunged again. "Look, just- just come by my apartment in an hour," he said, pulling Chopper away as they stepped on down the sidewalk. "I can't talk with Chopper."

"Which one's yours?" Sanji called, smoking lazily now that the threat of being eaten alive was dwindling.

"Top floor," Zoro yelled, and then gestured to the opposite side of the building as he turned away with his dog. "All the way at the back; on the right!"

He watched Zoro walk down the sidewalk and saw them step off into the woods that lined the apartment complex. Sanji let out a relieved breath and tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette and then turned to stare at his car. Damned piece of junk.

Wondering if, perhaps, Saturday's curse might have faded, he pulled out his keys from his coat pocket and made to try and revive it. He unlocked the door and left it open as he sat smoking in the drivers seat, and then tried the ignition. It made a promising sound and Sanji thought it was about to start before the engine gagged and gave way to nothing.

He scowled and sighed, but kept himself seated until his cigarette was done. When he'd finished smoking, he looked around to see if he might see Zoro again, but when he didn't, he locked his car, flicked the butt away, and walked back into his apartment.

With an hour to spare between now and their meeting, Sanji shrugged out of his coat and set about making himself a late breakfast. His mind wandered as he brought out his culinary equipment and started to cook. His movements were languid and natural, and it didn't take long before he lost himself to the feeling of productivity. He pretended he was at the Baratie while he prepped his ingredients and wondered, vaguely, if he ought to try and ask Zeff to reconsider their arrangement. He didn't realize he'd prepared too much food until he was halfway through with cooking it all.

He frowned down at the surplus, but before he could get angry at himself for making a wasteful amount, he shrugged and continued cooking. He'd just bring the leftovers to Zoro as an extra peace offering. He doubted the guy had ever eaten anything of five-star quality before, and smirked to himself, taking pride in his cooking, knowing there was no way Zoro could hate him after he'd eaten something so delicious for free.

Once he'd finished making his meal, he ate what he could and then put the rest on a clean plate and wrapped it with saran wrap. He took out his cellphone and glanced at the time, noting that he still had 20 minutes before Zoro had asked him to come by, and sat down in front of the tv to see what was new on the Cooking Network.

He half-watched whatever Rachael Ray was talking about until he noticed that it was time to head upstairs. He felt giddy as he debated on whether or not to wear his coat up, but couldn't pin why exactly he felt that way. He ignored it as he decided he looked better with his coat on and then gathered up the plate of extra food he'd made and left his apartment.

He'd heard Zoro stomping up the stairs when he returned with Chopper sometime ago, and noted that he was a lot quieter ascending the steps than the punk was. As he climbed up the flight of stairs, he began to notice that he was following a trail of dried mud and wondered if this was Zoro's doing.

When he got to the top floor, 3 flights of stairs later, he snickered to himself as he followed the trail of mud to the apartment that Zoro had indicated. He stepped around the large clumps as he went to knock on the door, and then abruptly stopped himself.

Zoro's dog hadn't been happy to see him on the street, what would happen when he saw him at the door? Could this be Zoro's way of getting back at him for their fight last night? He wondered, but considered the fact that, if Zoro had really wanted to sic his dog on him, he probably would've just done it when they'd met in the parking lot.

He knocked steadily on the door and then stepped back, breaking apart a thick clot of mud. It took a few moments, but when the door opened, there was no giant dog in sight.

Zoro gave him an odd look when he saw the plate of food in hand, but ignored it and invited Sanji in.

Confused, Sanji stood where he was.

"I thought I was just dropping Johnny's stuff off," he explained when Zoro quirked his brow.

"I got my gravity bong out," Zoro said, rolling his eyes and looking impatient. "We'll smoke your stuff and call it even. Like a, y'know, smoke 'em peace pipe type of thing."

"That's racist."

"It's the best analogy I could come up with."

"What about your dog?"

"I put him on his anxiety meds. He's sleeping in his crate in the back." Zoro raised his brow at him and leaned against his open door, crossing his arms. When Sanji didn't move, he sighed and dropped his arms, tucking his hands into the pockets of his denim vest. "Quit pussyfooting around and get in here."

"Jackass," Sanji grumbled before stepping inside.

Unsurprisingly to him, there was a mess of dried mud scattered across the hardwood floor that led to where Zoro's boots sat on a bath rug along the far wall. Sanji was half-tempted to ask about it, but thought better of it as Zoro shut the door behind him. He gave a quick glance to both the food in Sanji's hand and the coat he was wearing before passing him into the main living area.

"What's that for?" Zoro asked, and Sanji shrugged.

"I made extra; figured I'd give them to a guy who obviously had no taste."

Zoro tch'd and took the plate when Sanji offered it to him and made his way around the tall separating counter and into his kitchen.

"You can take your coat off," Zoro said as he opened his fridge and dumped the plate inside. "There's dog hair everywhere but you can set it wherever's clean."

"You're not gonna eat that?" Sanji asked as he took off his coat and looked around for a spot devoid of dog hair. True to his word, though, there was dog hair everywhere; nowhere looked clean, so he simply held onto it. He'd decided that the giddy feeling he'd had earlier was from wanting to see Zoro experience his cooking, and was disappointed that he wasn't going to eat it right away. "I'm going to want my plate back, so you'd better eat it soon."

"Whatever." Zoro sounded dismissive as he came back around and walked past Sanji to take a seat in the armchair in his living room.

Sanji stood around absently for a moment before he followed after Zoro, holding his coat as he sat down on the worn leather couch in front of what he assumed was the gravity bong.

A liter bottle of soda had been cut in half and was resting in a small, clear bucket of water on top of the coffee table. A stem and bowl were stuck in the side of the bottle, held in place with what looked like dried gum. Sanji stared at it with complete incomprehension.

"I feel like now is probably the time where I tell you I don't smoke," he said, digging into his coat pocket to withdraw the weed.

"Bullshit," Zoro remarked, snorting as he took the baggie from Sanji. "You were smoking when you caught me with Chopper."

"Yeah, tobacco."

Zoro shrugged in response and Sanji scowled. He sat back in the sofa and watched as Zoro opened the little baggie to inspect the product.

"Their stuff usually doesn't have seeds," Zoro commented as he pulled a few away from the plant. "This trial shit, though; not a good way to market their stuff." He shook his head disapprovingly.

Sanji watched him separate the seeds from the plant disinterestedly before casting his gaze away to look at the various posters that lined the walls.

They were mostly gig posters advertising shows in venues he knew were local but had never heard of or been to. A few of them had signed setlists attached to them, but the ones that caught his attention the most were the large, colourful band posters that looked handprinted.

Simple in colour- most of them had only two or three tones- they featured extravagant linework that made up for the lack of detailed colouring, and illustrated various romantic scenes and settings centered around obscure band names.

"Did you make those?" Sanji asked, gesturing to the posters, though he didn't take Zoro to be an artist; especially not a romantic one.

Zoro didn't look up, but shook his head.

"Nah. The store I work at has this guy that comes in to paint stuff, and he makes posters and shit for this weird underground art scene he's a part of. Sometimes he gives me what he can't sell," he said, finally satisfied with what was left of the weed. He began to break it apart and packed some into the bowl in the side of the bottle. "He makes all my patches, too," he said, sitting back and pulling out the sides of his vest to show off the various patches that were sloppily sewn into it. "Names Usopp, he's some kind of freelance artist, I think."

"Usopp," Sanji said, musing quietly to himself before a look of recognition crossed his features. "Curly hair, long nose?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, narrowing his eyes slightly before he looked away to search for a lighter. "How do you know him?"

"My old man hired him for some interior design work a little while ago." Trying to feel casual, Sanji let himself rest back against the sofa with his coat folded in his lap. He watched Zoro lift some junk up off the table and scatter other things around before giving up his search.

"You got a lighter?" he asked, and Sanji nodded and pulled his out, handing it over to him. Zoro didn't take it and gave it a strange look.

"What?"

"It's white," he said. "White lighters are bad luck."

Sanji rolled his eyes and set it upright on the table.

"Says who?"

"The 27 Club, man," Zoro said around a scowl and stood up. "I got a book of matches somewhere; you can put that death omen away."

"I didn't take you to be the superstitious type," Sanji said as he rolled his eyes and picked up his lighter. He held it in his hand and looked down at it; he'd never heard before that white lighters were bad luck. He shrugged and pocketed it as Zoro left him to search through his apartment.

He took his cellphone out and checked the time, noticing that the Baratie would be starting its infamous lunch service soon. He sighed, wishing he were in the kitchens there and working instead of hanging out with the punk he'd barely come to know.

He could hear Zoro rifling around in whatever backroom he'd disappeared into, but it didn't seem like he'd be coming back anytime soon. Standing up, Sanji laid his coat on the seat and went to take a closer look at Usopp's posters.

"Hey," he said, but when Zoro didn't answer he repeated himself louder. "Hey!"

"What?" Zoro asked, but his voice was muffled and distant.

"These are all signed 'Sogeking', not Usopp."

Sanji heard a grunt emanate from Zoro's direction and turned to look down the short hall he'd gone down.

"It's his street name," Zoro eventually said after a moment of silence. "He does a lot of graffiti and stuff; can't sign that shit with his real name. Sogeking is his Banksy."

"Oh."

He continued to admire the posters for a minute or two before he grew bored of that and went to sit back down, when someone knocked on the front door. Sanji paused and then turned to face the door and then looked back at the gravity bong.

'Oh shit,' he thought as a mild panic overtook him. Dammit, it was just his luck to get busted; he should've known better.

"Hey, Zoro, open up!" The voice outside was female and kept insistently knocking on the door. "I know you're home, I saw your bike outside!"

"Someone's at the door," Sanji called lamely into the back, nervously hoping Zoro would know what to do.

"So answer it," he heard Zoro say, and his hope vanished.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, fuckin'- let her in, man," Zoro grunted, sounding strained, and Sanji wondered if he was still just looking for a book of matches.

He shrugged to himself and performed the Catholic cross across himself as he went to answer the door.

'God,' he thought. 'If I'm going to be busted, at least make this woman busting me hot.'

He opened the door, and saw that she was.

"Praise the Lord."