Doflamingo reclined into his seat, hands motioning away from his companion's face. "You're getting old."
After taking Dressrosa, Doflamingo made a point to hand each of his elite officers a room of their own. Vergo was busy earning another promotion, but Doflamingo saved him a spot on the west side, overlooking the colosseum. Diamante stressed that the view was to die for, and Monet noted the location would be close to the Young Master's room. With Vergo's visits being so rare and quick, a room Doflamingo could easily locate and barge into was important.
Vergo chuckled, placing sunglasses over his eyes. "Really? Are you quite sure?"
"Yes," Doflamingo answered. "I can feel the wrinkles starting to form under your eyes."
The sounds of the colosseum could be heard from Vergo's patio. From all the way up the plateau, the sounds of cheering citizens and fighting prisoners were like gentle breezes, barely noticed by either man. Even Doflamingo's delicate sense of sound couldn't pick up the screams of defeated men and women, some destined to face the factory underneath.
"Hmmm." Vergo grabbed a cookie from the table situated between the two of them. After a few bites, he added: "If that's the case, then you're old too."
Doflamingo's hand hovered over the glass of sweet tea. "Why's that?
"We're the same age, Doffy."
He licked the front row of his teeth, preparing himself for a grin to accompany his haughty reply. "I'm looking sharper than ever." He brought the glass to his lips, nursing on the icy brew saturated with citrus zest and nectar. "I'm aging rather well, if I do say so myself."
Vergo wiped some of the many stray crumbs outlining his jaw. "Your hairline's been receding for a while now."
Doflamingo swallowed quicker than intended. "You're one to talk," he remarked, sounding more snide than usual. He listened to Vergo chuckle, stopping only to treat himself to another biscuit or tart. "I know you didn't start shaving your head because you grew tired of that wonderful cut of yours," he remarked.
"If I recall correctly, you're the one who helped supply that cut."
"Oh good, your memory is still intact." Doflamingo snatched a cookie from the table and stuffed it into his mouth, savoring Vergo's displeased grunt. "I was afraid you might've developed some dementia since your last visit."
"I tried forgetting," Vergo said with an exaggerated sigh. Doflamingo was sure the man had turned his head just so he could face him and force all that air out. "But there's no repressing the thirty years of bullshit you've made me endure."
"Has it really been that long?"
Vergo took a loud sip of his drink. "Hmm?"
"Thirty years?" Doflamingo asked, turning to Vergo.
"Just about." Vergo faced his friend, no longer interested in the distant sight of prisoners being sent to their doom. "We'll be forty this year now."
"Yeesh," Doflamingo muttered.
"Now who's the one with the memory problem?"
"Vergo, look in my direction." Doflamingo listened to the man shift in his seat. "You good?"
"Yes."
"Wonderful," Doflamingo said. He moved his glass to his other hand, raising his left to Vergo, curling down all fingers expect for his middle.
"Love you too," Vergo muttered. He picked up his drink and made another loud slurp.
The two sat comfortably on their seats, Doflamingo bringing his hand down and gently patting his leg to the sounds of the screams and yells coming down from the colosseum, and Vergo closing his eyes, letting the setting sun tan and calm him after spending several months at the marine base.
"At least I still have my looks."
"Do you?" Vergo asked. "Take off those sunglasses and I'll be the judge of that."
Doflamingo placed his shades down on the table. A small wind passed through, and he instinctively inhaled, taking in the usual smells of Dressrosa. A lively city, filled with so much life and prosperity. It was city containing so many shades of white.
He felt Vergo's hand rest against his jawline. An unnecessary act. To a stranger, this level of intimacy might've been considered inappropriate, even between two long time friends. Knowing Vergo would be returning back to G-5 in a few days, and that there would be another several months, maybe even a year before they would be able to relax and hang out as friends again, Doflamingo welcomed the touch.
"How do I look?" he asked.
He heard a gentle sigh escape Vergo's lips. Oh boy.
"Like shit," the man whispered, almost to the point of seduction. Vergo rapidly backed away from Doflamingo, unleashing his haki to protect him from a mild ambush of wiry strings, until Doflamingo grew tired of attacking him.
"You're so full of it!" Doflamingo complained, waving his tired hand at the man. "Now I know why I sent you away to play marine all those years ago."
"And I stayed, all those years," Vergo added, pointing his finger and roughly waving it in front of Doflamingo.
The blond felt the weak airwaves and rolled his eyes.
Vergo smacked his lips, enjoying Doflamingo's lack of a proper comeback, combined with the delectable treats and cheers echoing up the castle.
"You did stay, all those years," Doflamingo remarked, taking his drink. "You're a good friend."
"Not just a loyal marine?"
Doflamingo shrugged. "I've plenty of those."
He let his fingers smash the droplets collecting on his glass. The index rose as he caught Vergo mutter something, rubbing his face of crumbs while the sounds from the city beneath them began to decrease. People were probably making their way home now.
He placed his glass on the table and stood up from his seat. "Let's go."
Vergo swallowed a half-eaten tart. "Where?"
"We got a city filled with bars, clubs, restaurants and fancy brothels," Doflamingo answered. He offered his hand to Vergo. "Let's make the most of the next two days you got and have ourselves a grand ol' time." He leaned forward, feeling the faint exhale of Vergo's breath. "Before we get too old."
A hand covered in cold condensation and sweet crumbs grabbed his. Doflamingo hoisted his friend up, immediately guiding him to the edge of the patio.
"Are there any clouds out?" he asked.
"Several above the city, " Vergo noted. "There's one straight ahead, at twelve-o-clock. You should be able to reach it."
"Great." Doflamingo stretched his fingers out to the sky, waiting seconds before coming into contact with tiny droplets of water. Too small to affect his devil fruit abilities, but large enough for him to cling to, to hoist him and Vergo up and use as a means of transportation.
And nobody would say a damn thing about a vice admiral keeping appearances with the country's king, even if it meant wandering around the red light district, pointing a finger and laughing at all the darling girls being guided around by rag dolls, walking tops, and upright stuffed animals. Doflamingo listened on, hearing his friend's mad description of the city's strange ways, of the lousy lifestyle held at G-5, while he leaned on the counter, munching on fries and trying not to snicker over how much of a child Vergo could get when presented with a few drinks and a cheeseburger.