Two weeks later…
"Yo. It's me."
"No shit it's you! What do you want? I'm in the middle of a shift."
"You still picked up."
"Well, yeah, but - just, what do you want? Make it quick."
"Two orders of sesame chicken. An order of orange chicken. Fried rice-"
"What the hell?! This isn't a fucking Chinese place-!"
"And how 'bout a ride when your shift's over-"
"Zoro! I've driven you around for three days in a row! You can't just-!"
"I'm between jobs right now, cook. You're not being very understanding."
"Because you're fucking mooching! Ask your other friends-! Or get a car! Actually no, on second thought, don't. You'll never be able to fi-"
"Tana really wants your cooking again."
A heavy sigh on the other end of the phone.
"I just cooked for you guys two days ago…"
"So do it again. I'll bring wine."
Another heavy sigh and some near unintelligible grumbling.
"Fine. But I really can't give you a ride. I don't get off till seven. Get to my place at seven thirty. And don't be late or the kitchen is closed!"
"Deal. Later, cook."
No reply, just a grunt on the other end, and Zoro grinned triumphantly, ending the call.
He came back into the training room from the hallway, a smug expression on his face when his daughter looked over at him, lowering her bokken and leaning against it casually.
"Mission accomplished?" Tana asked, and he nodded.
"Mission accomplished," Zoro confirmed. "We gotta go over at seven thirty. He can't pick us up. And we'll have to stop for wine first."
"Okay," she said with a shrug, then lifted her bokken, giving it a confident twirl in her hand. "So, you gonna actually take me on this time or are you just gonna watch?"
He rolled his eyes, catching the bokken mid-twirl and shooting her a stern look.
"If you're gonna mess around, then we're done," he warned, forcibly returning the weapon to its proper position by her side.
She giggled, but brought it back to her side and stood up a little straighter as per his request.
Two weeks ago, her dad had first set foot in the dojo again, and, only a day or two after that, he'd spoken with her grandfather, surprising him greatly when he told him he was looking to come back.
And from that day forth, he'd slowly accustomed himself to returning. He wasn't teaching classes like he used to, nor had he actually picked up a weapon. But he'd begun watching her again, coaching her, and she'd even caught him meditating alone a few times.
It wasn't yet like it used to be, but it was still almost too good to be true, and, to Tana, it still felt like it could shatter any second, no matter how happy she was. She worried that one wrong move or one bad memory would trigger her dad and cause him to leave again.
That was why she quickly got herself back in line whenever he asked, not wanting him to think she wasn't serious because she wanted this, even if it was happening slowly. She wanted it so much.
"Go again," he said. "From the beginning."
And she realized, with a little disappointment, that he wasn't going to demonstrate. But she nodded and stepped back, eager to please him.
Tana resumed her ready position, bokken held out before her, and as her dad softly counted out loud, she went through the little footwork routine they'd developed, pivoting and shifting her body almost like a dance, reacting quickly from whatever position she was in when her dad interjected his counting with "Strike."
It was mainly meditative, a way to review her movements and relax, train her body to remember.
Occasionally, Zoro would step in, catching her bokken mid-swing to adjust the height of her arm, or her grip on the hilt, and these were times she'd take the opportunity to look at him, wondering what he was thinking and why he had yet to pick up a weapon. What could possibly be holding him back when it was clear he still remembered everything perfectly?
She missed her mother immensely, but practicing kendo was a way she felt closer to her, almost like her mom was still right there with her. Wouldn't her dad feel that way as well?
Every time she'd thought to ask him about it, she'd ultimately kept quiet, not wanting to disturb the way things were slowly improving. Everything still felt far too delicate.
'Delicate' was not a word to describe Sanji's entrance into their lives, however.
Ever since those first few days, the cook had basically kicked his way in with no signs of butting out, and while Tana had always been just fine with that, it sure seemed like, now, her dad was too. She could tell the two had become fast friends, as much as they both tried to deny it. But it was obvious how much they had in common, and it was obvious that they were, perhaps, the two people in the world who could take all of the other's shit and dole it right back with equal measure.
It was why her dad now felt so damn comfortable insisting Sanji cook for them or give them rides. The blond would do it, because, somehow, despite how much of an asshole her dad liked to say he was, he was probably the most caring asshole they knew.
And Tana had to wonder. Was it Sanji's similarities to her mother that were drawing her father in, deepening their budding friendship?
Zoro seemed completely oblivious to this fact, however, at least outwardly, though his eagerness was palpable when he finally, after checking the hour, deemed it time to stop and get ready to head to Sanji's.
"Did you finish your homework?" he asked, watching her as she stowed the bokken back in the room's storage closet.
"No," she answered sheepishly, shooting a guilty grin over her shoulder before walking over to shut the shoji doors to outside as well. Homework had, admittedly, become less of a priority ever since they'd started coming back to the dojo nearly every afternoon.
"Oh," he replied. "Well, bring it to the cook's then."
He honestly didn't care if he was being pushy and going against everything he'd initially said about the cook. It was the stability, the added support from someone who got it that he was subconsciously craving.
Franky and Robin had always been amazing. Still were, and he knew he'd never be able to repay them for everything they'd done and continued to do for him and his daughter, but they had a family of their own. And even if he'd had no choice at times, he still felt bad asking them for help.
Now, with the cook….well, it wasn't like the guy had anything going on besides his job. Zoro didn't feel nearly as insecure going to him for shit.
Tana made her way across the room to him, and moved to shut out the lights, trying and failing to push her growing bangs out of her eyes, the hair in need of a trim, just long enough to get in the way.
He heard her little frustrated huff, so he stepped over without thinking and muttered, "Hair clip?"
The surprise was evident on his daughter's face, especially when he stuck out a hand insistently for one. She blinked at him for a second, then rummaged in the pocket of her sweatpants where she thought she'd stuck one earlier.
Sure enough, she did have one, and while she was more than capable of clipping it back herself, she still handed it over to her dad, who stepped forward and gently finger-combed her hair away from her eyes. He twisted the offending clump back against her head and clipped it there, smoothing out the hair below before he brought his hand to the side of her head in an affectionate gesture, then turned away.
"Let's go," he said over his shoulder with a fleeting smirk, and headed out into the hallway, flipping the lights off and plunging her into darkness.
"Hey!" she yelped, and scurried after him quickly, touching a hand to the clip secured in her hair.
Her dad had been surprisingly good at braiding hair in the past, smugly claiming it to be like wrapping ito around blade handles. Maybe tomorrow, she'd ask him to do it again…
The two headed down the long hallway, poking their heads briefly in the office to tell Koshiro they were leaving before returning to the entrance to put on shoes and jackets once more.
Her dad took her heavy backpack, full of textbooks, threw it over his shoulder, and they headed out the door into the advancing dusk.
It would be a short walk to the subway station, and another at the end of the trip to the Baratie, but neither of them really minded.
After all, things weren't so awkward anymore.
Zoro nudged his daughter repeatedly in the shoulder as she climbed the stairs behind the Baratie ahead of him, just to bug her, snickering when she looked back at him with an annoyed glare.
The stairs were dark, until little by little, light from Sanji's windows began to wash over them, falling in warped rectangles that stood out in the darkening air. Summer was officially behind them, and the nights were chilly, enough that, say, a kid who ran away from home and wandered the streets at night would have some trouble now.
Sanji's curtains were closed, but inside, there was the hint of a moving shadow and the sound of cooking utensils clacking together occasionally. It appeared Sanji was already getting busy in the kitchen, definitely so when, by the time they reached the deck, the smell of delectable tomato sauce wafted out to them.
Zoro had to smirk. A few nights ago, Tana had complained about craving some good pasta, and it seemed the cook hadn't forgotten.
There was a lot Sanji didn't forget. He remembered, not only where they lived, but where Franky and Robin lived, and where Tana's school was. He remembered the time she got out of school too, because he'd asked if the cook could pick her up one day, a week ago, when he'd had to fill out some paperwork for Koshiro for his kendo license re-testing.
But it wasn't only arbitrary things like that. It was specific things. Like his daughter's favorite foods, what music she liked to listen to in the car. He remembered everything she told him about kendo and tried to put it to good use, using proper terminology when he could.
He'd even come back to the dojo to spar with her a few more times, having apparently started going back to the gym himself.
Zoro didn't know how much Sanji remembered about him, but seeing how much care and attention he gave to Tana was….
Well, he didn't know how it made him feel, just that it made him feel stupidly good, and that was something he hadn't felt in a fucking long time.
Of course it had to be the idiot cook doing all these things…
Apparently, however, Sanji remembered more about him than he assumed because, as soon as Tana opened the door to his apartment and stepped in, Zoro noticed a pack of his favorite beer on the cook's counter, something he knew, for a fact, he'd never mentioned outright to the man. He'd not wanted to discuss anything alcohol with the cook, because the guy had such prissy taste and-
Unfortunately, it must have been important to him because he was holding a bottle of the cook's favorite wine in his hand, wasn't he…
Fuck.
"You're making pasta!" Tana exclaimed, dropping her backpack at the door and hurrying in to lean over the counter and snoop on what Sanji was doing.
"I am," Sanji replied over his shoulder, mixing ingredients in a bowl, saying nothing in the way of protest when it came to his two guests barging in without so much as knocking. "And it's easy. Even an idiot could make it. So get the hell over here, mosshead. I'm teaching you how. So you don't have to keep hounding me to make you food."
"Oh, come the fuck on, cook! I know how to make stuff!" Zoro complained, shrugging off his jacket and dumping it on Sanji's couch unceremoniously. "Just 'cause I'm not all fancy about it…"
He came over to the counter too and slammed down the bottle of wine before adding, "How 'bout you gimme a beer first, then maybe I'll help out."
"Right, 'cause I totally want you stumbling around drunk in my kitchen," the blond muttered in reply, moving to the fridge and pulling out vegetables for the salad.
"Oi! You're the one who can't hold your liquor for shit!" Zoro shot back. "Didn't think one diluted glass of wine would do you in after five minutes last week."
"It was not five minutes!" Sanji bitched. "Would you just get over here?"
"Fine. Six minutes," Zoro replied smugly, shooting a smirk at his daughter when he moved past her.
"Homework," he insisted, and though she rolled her eyes, Tana was grinning too as she obediently headed over to grab her backpack and settle on the couch with the TV on.
"We're dropping it," Sanji muttered, shouldering the other man roughly towards the sink and pointing at a pot beside it. "Fill the pot there to the top with water. Not overflowing. Leave an inch or two. You can handle that, right?"
"What kind of water? Bottled in the Swiss Alps with only the best minerals-?"
"Shut the fuck up!" Sanji screeched. "Use the damn tap, I swear to fuck…"
"What, it's a valid question," Zoro teased, though he'd begun doing what Sanji asked. "Everything else you shove in your face is like that."
"Well, what do you take me for? A caveman? Don't answer that. I have taste," the cook grumbled when it looked as if Zoro was already planning a cheeky reply in his head. "Are you done? Bring that over here."
The ex-swordsman lifted the heavy water-filled pot and carried it easily to the stove, setting it down on one of the burners.
"Now watch. This is for the pasta. Turn the heat to here, and - Zoro! Pay attention!" Sanji snapped fingers in Zoro's face as his friend's gaze shifted to the TV. "I want you to learn how to do this! The water needs to boil first. Then we add the pasta which I have over here. I'm using store-bought pasta for once because I knew it would be easier for you. Unless you - Zoro, for fuck's sake, you shithead! Listen to me!"
"I am listening! I don't have to look at you to listen!" Zoro snapped, but he did, to his credit, turn to look at the cook with an evil smirk.
"I'm trying to show you something, you oaf!"
And the blond grabbed Zoro by his shirt sleeve and forcibly yanked him over to the stove.
Honestly, why did he even bother? Zoro was a terrible student, at least on the surface, and he seemed quite content to let Sanji do everything for him. But his goal was to teach Zoro to help him learn something so he could care for his daughter.
Unless Zoro was pretending though. Because, honestly, he was a fast learner. In fact, sometimes he got instructions down after one try, which led Sanji to believe he really was paying attention...just being an idiot about it. And the cook really didn't understand why.
But he found he didn't much care. It was frustrating as hell, but it was actually a little bit entertaining, he could admit to himself. He liked arguing with the guy. He liked calling him names and having him shoot it right back. Because it didn't feel serious to him. He didn't really believe the guy was an unfeeling drunkard with the IQ of a rock….
He only believed it when Zoro acted that way. Which was all the time. And fuck, he wanted him to act that way, because it only made their actually intelligent conversations all the more meaningful. He was, in reality, able to open up to Zoro like he could with no other, especially after the events of two weeks prior.
Like, for instance, when Zoro turned to him during a lull in their work, the ex-swordsman stirring absently at the pasta they'd put in to boil.
"Nothing from the police?" he murmured quietly, glancing over at the cook and lowering his voice so Tana didn't overhear so easily.
Sanji huffed a frustrated sigh and set down his knife, half-cut tomatoes piled to one side of the cutting board.
"No," he muttered in response. "I thought….I mean, they had to have gotten the shit, right? Unless the kid at the front desk fucked it up somehow. But I thought I'd get a call or something."
Zoro made a noise of agreement, eyes watching the cook's profile, the way his brow furrowed in irritation, his hair falling in his face when he hunched over the countertop and scratched a pattern on the cutting board with a nail.
"You could always go back. Ask about it."
The blond let out a breath, looking up finally, meeting Zoro's eye.
"And say what? Why haven't you arrested Big Mom yet? Get on that? And keep my brothers in jail, please?" He shook his head. "I'm just...wondering if I even have a right to know on that sort of thing, y'know?"
"Sure you do," Zoro said, shrugging.
He stepped over to elbow the cook out of the way, taking away Sanji's knife and swatting at his hand when the blond briefly tried to stop him.
He set to work cutting the tomatoes himself, with skill that was….well, maybe it was rather unsurprising considering everything.
So Sanji sat back, leaning against the counter and watching him go for a minute before lifting eyes to Zoro's face.
"Will you go with me?" he asked, not liking how weak his voice sounded. "I dunno, maybe the chief will take it more seriously if we both go-"
Zoro sliced the knife down a little too hard, rattling the cutting board.
He breathed out forcefully and looked up at the blond.
"You took the shit to Smoker?" he hissed, glancing over at his daughter, though she was still turned away, the back of her head silhouetted against the TV screen.
"Yeah…." Sanji replied slowly, quirking a brow at Zoro. "Why? You...know him?"
He instantly felt stupid for that question, however, when Zoro just gave a little growl and looked away with a mumbled, "I had to deal with him…..after Kuina…."
"Gotcha…" Sanji murmured instantly, stopping Zoro from going further and causing himself more pain, his chest clenching uncomfortably. "But...I dunno, he's a cop, sure, but I actually got the impression he's kind of an okay guy-"
"It's not him…" Zoro muttered hastily, shaking his head and looking, suddenly, like he was slipping back into a place in his head Sanji hadn't seen since that first day at the dojo. Ever since, when Sanji had gone, they'd trained on the other end of the building, away from that mysterious room, and Zoro had seemed far more at ease.
But then, to Sanji's surprise, the mosshead continued, his voice nearly a whisper now.
"...It's his partner…"
This perplexed the cook entirely, who quickly asked, "Who? The woman? What's her name - Tashigi? Why would she be a-?"
"Tana? Tell the cook about that thing you learned at school last week," Zoro said suddenly, turning away from the cook and going back to his cutting.
Sanji gaped at him for a second, offended that the shithead would deny him an answer like that, a look on his face similar to Tana, who turned around on the couch to look over with confusion.
"What?" she asked. "What thing?"
Zoro didn't answer though, just glared steadfastly down at his work, so Sanji rolled his eyes.
"Nothing. He's just being an idiot, as usual," Sanji informed, shaking his head and going back to manning the pasta.
Honestly, just when he thought the other man was starting to improve, the asshole shut him out again. And unlike two weeks ago, it was actually starting to hurt now...
Despite the tension of earlier, by the time the dinner was ready and they'd all sat at the small table in Sanji's kitchen, the weirdness had died down and things were right back to how they had been, with Zoro and his daughter stuffing their faces, and Sanji staring at them, thoroughly appalled by their behavior.
"Zoro, she is picking up your shit manners! This is a fucking travesty!" Sanji scolded, pointing his fork accusingly at the heathen currently slurping up spaghetti loudly.
"What! Slurping your food is good manners in Japan!" he justified, not looking to stop any time soon.
"We're not in Japan! And you never even lived there! You can't pull that shit with me!"
"I can have good manners when it matters," Tana assured with a shrug, twirling a huge chunk of pasta on her fork. "He never does."
"Well, yeah, that's obvious, but - hey! Hang on, when it matters?!" the cook screeched. "So what the hell is this situation!"
"I dunno. It's just your place," she replied, though she smirked, knowing it would get under his skin, and it certainly did.
"Oi! Listen here, young lady-!" Sanji yelped automatically, to which Zoro and Tana shared a look and instantly broke into snickers at the cook's stupid scolding.
The conversation petered into Sanji's muttered bitching about how he felt ganged up on and disrespected in his own apartment and other idiotic things. But by the end, everything had settled back into a normalcy that few would actually assume possible when it came to the three of them.
They hadn't been eating together every night, but it seemed that, for each of them, there was something that kept them wanting to do it again, to somehow make it a regular thing, even if both Zoro and Sanji outwardly denied it was.
With the TV on and Tana quietly Facetiming with Oliver afterwards, the sound of running water and dishes clacking together as Sanji forced Zoro to wash dishes with him - the atmosphere was almost….well, maybe homey was too strong of a word. It wasn't like they lived together or anything. But it was certainly comfortable.
The two men were quiet for once, Sanji passing clean dishes over to Zoro for drying, nothing but Tana's voice and the narration of a news reporter in the background.
"-Officials say a file was received with condemning evidence against the leader of the organized crime syndicate known only as the 'Fishmen.' Said syndicate had played a major role in the Germa 66 drug scandal of last year, as newly-uncovered transactions from the Vinsmokes' bank account detail. Hody Jones has been taken into police custody and will-"
Both Zoro and Sanji looked up at the same time, both of them nearly dropping the dishes they each held. Eyes wide, their heads whipped around to stare at each other, before looking back to the TV screen.
Tana wasn't paying attention, still chatting with her friend about one of the music teacher's crazy stories of his 'Soul King' days at school, eyes fixed on her phone. But on the TV was footage of the burly leader of the Fishmen, bushy white hair standing out against dark skin and a crazed look in his eye as he practically snapped teeth at the officers trying to cart him into the back of a police car.
Not a second later, Zoro's phone went off in his back pocket, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, lifting the device to see an unread text from Robin.
And then Sanji's rang on the counter beside the sink, an incoming call from an unfamiliar number...
Neither of them said a word, their eyes meeting again almost automatically, neither understanding what was going on, but both realizing that something was happening.
Zoro gave a subtle nod, and Sanji's eyes were on the other man's the whole time he reached for his phone and picked it up, keeping his voice level when he answered.
"Hello?" he said evenly. Then, after a pause, "Yes, this is Sanji."
Zoro watched him, unable to hear the voice on the other end, but knowing that it had some effect on the cook, whose eyes had darkened and focused intently somewhere on his own broad chest.
Sanji nodded several times, answered, "Yeah," a few, then finally said, "Tomorrow, first thing, sure…" and hung up after bidding farewell a second later.
He lowered the phone, looked up at Zoro again, who merely tilted his head in silent question.
It took Sanji a good minute before he let out a breath, averting eyes.
"Are you - I mean, are you really not okay with seeing Smoker and Tashigi again…?" Sanji asked, a slight pleading that he couldn't quite shake from his voice.
Zoro saw the look of discomfort there, as much as the cook tried to hide it, the worry, and maybe anger building there too.
Was he really going to leave Sanji to deal with this by himself over his own selfish reasons?
"It's fine," he answered without thinking, despite his earlier sentiments. "I'm with you."
By the time they returned home, Zoro's mood had changed significantly, and Tana had taken notice. She'd noticed it with Sanji too, just before they'd left his apartment.
The cook had tried to play it off, but the looks he and her dad had shared were enough to tell her something was up, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the way her dad was almost furiously texting to someone the whole taxi ride home, and the phone call she'd heard Sanji receive.
Eventually, when they walked into their apartment and the serious expression on Zoro's face still hadn't lifted, she deemed it time to say something.
But he beat her to it, rubbing at the back of his head as he threw keys onto the kitchen counter and gave a heavy sigh.
"How much did you hear? At the cook's," he asked, and she resisted the urge to smile, despite everything.
This was a sign, after all, that things really were changing. Her dad wasn't underestimating her. He was trusting her with more and more, actually talking to her and telling her things. Even if she didn't understand all of it, particularly what had happened at his job with Crocodile, the sentiment was enough, and it gave her hope. Hope that things could go back to the way they were.
She knew there was a lot left unsaid, particularly about her mom. That was one subject they had yet to breach, but maybe in time…
"Um….not much," she replied truthfully, shrugging her backpack off and dropping it on the floor by the pile of shoes they'd amassed near the door. "I heard Sanji take a phone call….and then you're over here texting like a maniac…"
"It's Robin," he answered, waving his phone. "You might have to go to Oliver's after school tomorrow."
"Okay…" Tana replied slowly. "There a reason why?"
It was a question she usually wouldn't ask until recently, but now that her dad was more consistently around, it seemed like a valid one.
To her surprise though, he smirked slightly, causing his features to soften for the first time in the past hour or so.
"I already decided to tell you what's up. You don't gotta sound so suspicious."
Tana actually looked embarrassed for a second, not realizing the somewhat annoyed expression that came over her face. She wasn't exactly used to receiving explanations.
Of course, she also wasn't ready for said explanation.
"The cook has to go to the police tomorrow and he wants me to go with him."
Her dad held up a hand as soon as it looked like she was going to interject with more questions.
"No one's in trouble. Well….one guy is - the wrong guy, as far as we know, and we wanna find out why," he explained, and it really wasn't much of an explanation, judging by the confusion that twisted Tana's features. But he didn't want to bring up Hody, because he was sure she'd remember.
After all, he did. He remembered Kuina ushering their daughter away quickly that night in the parking lot, but not before he heard Tana's fearful, confused whimper of, "Daddy…?" when Hody grabbed him by the shirt collar with an angry sneer.
"Dad, that makes no sense," Tana complained, and he rolled his eyes, then crossed over to turn her by the shoulder, urging her to head towards her room.
"Yeah, well. I don't really get it either. Hopefully tomorrow we'll find shit out. For now, bed," he said, giving her a nudge.
"But-!" she protested, stumbling forward a few steps. "Dad! You're going to the police! Are you sure everything's-?"
"Trust me," he insisted automatically, though his voice was certain. "Everything's gonna be fine."
She paused for a moment, looked back at him, almost judging if she could trust him. But eventually, she sighed unhappily and nodded.
"Okay, okay…" she mumbled, lips turning up a tiny bit when he gave her another teasing shove.
Then, on a split second decision, she whipped around with a fist curled, a punch aimed directly at her dad's gut.
His hand flew up, however, catching her fist easily and twisting it away from him gently, the man quirking a brow down at his daughter in challenge.
"Good night," he said pointedly, smirking down at her pouting expression.
She backed away slowly when he released her hand, narrowing eyes, then pointing two fingers from her eyes to his before turning the corner and heading towards her room to get ready for bed.
His smirk didn't leave his face. In fact, he had to hide a stupid smile behind a hand, the same one he'd caught her flying fist with.
It was a game they used to play when she was younger - Sneak Attack - to see if they could catch the other off-guard, test their reflexes and possibly land a hit. And it had been a long time since…
It felt good, to know his daughter was beginning to trust him again, but it was bittersweet.
Because he knew.
He knew he would have to break that trust when he told her the truth. The truth that everything bad that had happened in their lives….had happened because of him.
Fuck, he didn't know how Sanji did it. How the stupid cook was capable of instilling such confidence and conviction in him that he tended to lose all on his own.
His smile began to fade, remembering just what he'd gotten himself into.
He'd agreed to go with Sanji, and he didn't regret that...but part of him wondered if the blond could truly help him with everything.
In the morning, Sanji was livid. Why the fuck was he having to do this? What had gone so horribly wrong that the evidence he'd provided to Smoker - undeniable proof of his brothers' transactions with Big Mom, with account numbers and everything - hadn't been enough? Had incriminated some completely different asshole?
He'd begun to get the very bad feeling that he'd been played. By who, he didn't know, but potentially by everyone. His brothers. Pudding, for sure. Maybe even Big Mom herself.
He didn't understand it, and this filled him with rage.
He'd thought about everything during the night, laid awake and fucking stressed over it, and when he picked up Zoro the next morning and the mosshead got into his car, he immediately had to let the man know.
"I'm fucking pissed, Zoro," he growled, hands twisting on the steering wheel and teeth crunching down on a cigarette.
"Why are you pissed," Zoro muttered, humoring the cook's attitude, despite looking absolutely exhausted himself.
He'd worn another stupid button-down shirt, albeit underneath his worn leather jacket, and that should've damn been enough for the cook's ridiculous fashion sense. So why was he so pissed?
"Why do you think!" the cook screeched, slamming his foot down on the brake and practically wrenching out the gear shift when he put the car in reverse. "After all the shit we had to deal with, some random guy gets what should be Big Mom's punishment?! What the hell! Somebody fucked up big time, and I wanna know who so I can-"
"He's not some random guy," Zoro answered tiredly, glaring over at Sanji when he peeled out of the parking lot far too fast. "He's the leader of the Fishmen. Weren't you listening when they said that on the news? Those guys're also shilling out steroids and shit. Buncha fucking sharks… They might've been working for Big Mom or whatever."
He trailed off for a second before adding, in a near whisper, "I also might've punched Hody's face in once…"
"What?!"
Sanji's screech was instantaneous, his head whipping around to gape at the other man, looking back and forth between him and the road for as long as it took to convey his absolute shock.
"Yeah, that's...what Tana thinks I went to Impel Down for…" he mumbled. The only reason he hadn't fallen on his bad habit of dropping the unwanted topic immediately was because he'd prepared himself, reluctantly, for it to come up today, whether with Sanji, or the police.
"Wait, wait, wait," the blond stammered, still stealing glances at Zoro when he could. "Backtrack here. You punched Hody. When? Why? You sure it's the same guy?"
"Yes, I'm fucking sure, cook," Zoro replied irritably, leaning up against the window and glaring fixedly out. "I wouldn't forget an asshole like that." He sighed. "It was a few years ago. At a competition. He was a karate judge, and he started saying shit to me in the parking lot about Kuina. I snapped."
Instantly, as he always did when Zoro brought up Kuina, the cook felt bad for pressing him. But it still didn't change his shock over this news.
Sanji brought a hand to his forehead like this was hurting his brain, and it kind of was. How many shitty connections were going to emerge in their lives…?
"Alright. Whatever," he eventually said, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it of confusion. "I-" But then, because the thought struck him, he asked, "Does Smoker know that happened?"
"Yup….of course it came up again," Zoro muttered in reply, sounding more and more surly by the minute.
Time to drop the subject, Sanji assumed, the car falling into silence as he did just that.
Soon enough, however, and not for the first time, he found his gaze drifting back to the man beside him when he stopped the car at a light. He didn't even know what he was looking at, or why. The ugly bruise he'd given the man had faded, so he was back to looking like a normal cactus instead of a battered one.
And he didn't know if it was because Zoro sensed his eyes on him or what, but a few seconds later, the mosshead glanced over, brows raising a bit when he found Sanji already looking at him.
"What?" he mumbled, looking down at himself in case there was something on his shirt.
To Zoro's complete confusion, the weirdo cook smirked, ever the fucking enigma.
"Knock any of his teeth out when you punched him?" Sanji asked, just before the light changed and they started moving again.
Zoro couldn't help but return the smirk, relaxing a bit.
"No. But bloodied up his nose real good."
Sanji snorted, then reached out a hand to ruffle through Zoro's hair, the car swerving slightly when Zoro screeched in protest and shoved him away.
"Proud of you, mosshead~" he teased, laughing as his friend worked to straighten up his hair (as if there was any style to straighten). "Standing up for justice on the playgrou-OW! Okay, okay! Jeez, you're gonna make me crash!"
Zoro pulled his hand away from Sanji's face, leaving an angry red mark where he'd pinched the guy's cheek, a smug look on his face as Sanji rubbed at it sorely.
"You wanna talk justice, let's get through today," he muttered, hoping that they could do just that.
Of course, by the time they were stuck in the waiting area of the police station, much of the humor had died down, both of them stuck wondering why the hell they kept being forced to revisit the unpleasant places that had so shaped their lives.
Zoro, in particular, was sitting on the chair beside the cook, leaning over his knees and rubbing over his face, gaze darting quickly around the harshly-lit hall as if looking for ghosts.
No one was paying them any mind, busy people rushing by, countless footsteps clicking on the linoleum floors, and yet it was as if the whole world were staring at them with the way Zoro sat there, submerged in discomfort.
Sanji had refrained from saying anything, not wanting to stir up any painful memories for the guy, or distract him when he was feeling so anxious himself, in need of a cigarette already.
But Zoro's hands were shaking, ever so slightly, he noticed, his thumb and forefinger rubbing unconsciously over the bare ring finger on his left hand. It was a nervous gesture Sanji himself did sometimes, though less so now, and something told him he knew where his friend's thoughts were.
However, it surprised him when Zoro huffed out a breath and said, "Cook. I don't - m'gonna try not to, but I might….might bolt if - if that woman shows up…"
Sanji sighed, figuring Zoro meant Smoker's partner, Tashigi, again, and he still didn't understand how one woman could be terrifying Zoro so damn much.
"Why…?" he asked, trying not to let his frustration show, because he didn't want Zoro to do that. He wanted him here - he did - so they could deal with this together.
For a second, he wondered if Zoro would tell him at all, judging by his eagerness to avoid all explanation the evening before.
Zoro sighed again, wringing hands together before rubbing them over his knees.
This was a different display of nerves than he'd seen from the man. This was something that was working to break the man entirely, certainly affecting him physically, and it suddenly hit the cook, why he thought Zoro might be acting this way.
"Hold on…" he muttered, lowering his voice and ducking his head to look at the man. "Zoro….did you and her - have a thing-?"
He'd barely gotten his last word out before a frosted door on Zoro's right opened, and out stepped the woman in question.
Tashigi wore a white pantsuit, blazer left unbuttoned over a purple floral button-down. Her long blue-black hair was tied up in a loose bun, and glasses she adjusted over her nose as she turned to the two men seated by the wall beside her.
Instantly, Zoro bristled, tensed entirely, and Sanji noticed how he kept his eyes firmly away from her, staring across the hallway at the chairs lining the opposite side.
She was cute, as Sanji remembered well, despite how briefly he'd encountered her before. But now, with his unanswered question still swirling in his mind, he wondered what the hell kind of history she could have…
"Mr. Vinsmoke," she said, giving him a nod and a smile. "Thank you for coming in."
Beside him, Zoro practically flinched at her voice, and he turned his head away entirely, eyes squeezed shut as if in pain.
The cook's eyes flicked to him in concern, lingering on Zoro for a moment before he finally looked back up at Tashigi and gave a somewhat forced smile in return.
"It's no problem," he said shortly.
"Captain Smoker will see you now," she replied, gesturing behind her to the open doorway. "If you'll follow me."
Strangely, she seemed oblivious to Zoro's actions, something that didn't support the theory that they knew each other more intimately.
He stood slowly, and she even started to walk through the doors, as if Zoro weren't even there, forcing him to ask, "Uh - I brought - my friend here is involved. Is it okay if we both….?"
She slowed, looked back over her shoulder and seemed to notice Zoro for the first time, brow furrowing briefly.
"His name?" she asked, and Sanji fumbled for a second, wondering if Zoro would kill him for answering, especially when the mosshead looked ready to sink into the floor.
"Um...Zoro….Roronoa," Sanji answered slowly, giving his friend ample time to kick him or signal for him to stop, but he didn't.
Something in Tashigi's eyes flashed with recognition, and her gaze flicked to Zoro again. But then she nodded.
"Very well," she replied, and jerked her head for them both to come with her.
Zoro got to his feet, steely gaze fixed straight ahead, but the way his jaw clenched betrayed his warring feelings underneath.
Before he turned to follow her, Sanji stopped him, a hand reaching out to cover Zoro's wrist with more care than intended.
"Zoro," he murmured, searching the man's face. "Is it okay...?"
He wasn't expecting it, but Zoro's eyes met his, looking at Sanji for a long moment that had the cook breathing lightly despite himself.
"Yeah…" he said eventually, then reached up a hand to remove the blond's grip on him as gently as the cook had placed it there.
He strode in ahead of Sanji, conviction on his face, and the feel of Sanji's touch mysteriously lingering on his arm.
She didn't move like Kuina. This was what he focused on, only allowing himself to catch a glimpse of her feet now and again as he followed her through to Smoker's office, Sanji right beside him, even pushing ahead a little.
She didn't move like Kuina - she didn't smell like Kuina. Her hair was longer than Kuina's, and she wasn't Kuina.
He could tell the difference in their speaking, Tashigi's voice a little more shrill, not nearly as soothing as Kuina's had been.
She wasn't Kuina.
She could never be Kuina. No one ever could be.
Not even…
He shook his head, letting Sanji pass him, his gaze lifting, only for a moment, to the blond's face when he entered the room Tashigi had directed them to. He slipped in after his friend, the scent of cigar smoke immediately overcoming them, and hung back, willing the woman to leave, to not stick around for this entire meeting, because it just might drive him insane. He had enough shit running through his mind as it was.
"Captain Smoker," Tashigi was saying. "Mr. Vinsmoke, and Mr.-"
"Roronoa. It's been a while," came a deep voice from across the room, finishing for her, and Zoro tentatively stole a glance up at the man seated at the desk, the pair of cigars perched between his lips, and the shock of white hair slicked back atop his head.
Zoro nodded to him in acknowledgment, but found himself unable to speak so long as Tashigi was still there.
Thankfully, to his relief, she took her leave, though he felt her eyes land on him briefly as she left.
It was only when the door shut behind him that he felt the tension ease from his shoulders somewhat, his thundering heartbeat calming a little.
Sanji looked over at him, turned up lips subtly, before he directed his attention to Smoker.
"Alright, sir. With all due respect, what the hell is going on?" the cook asked, barely restraining the anger in his voice. "You did get the files I brought, right?"
Smoker leaned back in his chair, gloved hands lifting a manila envelope on his desk, the very one Sanji had left with Coby.
"Right here," Smoker answered. "I'd apologize for the delay, but you of all people should remember how long investigations take."
The cook scoffed, considering that was only a small fraction of what he'd been desperately wanting to know.
"That's not - I don't understand! Those transactions were with Big Mom's account. Why the hell is this Hody Jones bastard getting locked up instead!"
Smoker stared at him for a long moment, betraying no emotion, but the judgment was clear in his eyes.
Eventually, he let out a sigh through clenched teeth and shifted, opening the file and scanning the paperwork for the thousandth time.
He jammed a finger down on top of it and leveled Sanji with a serious look.
"The account in question - the one receiving payments from the Vinsmoke account - wasn't connected to the Charlotte family. It was a police-monitored account set up prior to your brothers' arrest, by a hired informant and now-former member of the Fishmen, by the name of Aladine," Smoker explained, removing both cigars to give them a tap over the ashtray. "We have since linked him to the Charlotte family, but none of this particular evidence is enough to indict her."
Sanji blinked, let out a breath and staggered his weight, lifting a hand to run over his mouth as he tried to make sense of everything.
He certainly felt like the rug was pulled out from under him, despite the one beneath his feet remaining firmly in place.
"So….you're telling me that was...the Fishmen's account? Or - whatever, a fake one? Nothing to do with Big Mom?"
Smoker nodded, resting elbows on his desk and lacing fingers before his face.
"In layman's terms, yes," he confirmed. "It was originally put in place to provide evidence against your brothers. However, upon reviewing the history, it seems money was transferred from the Fishmen to Germa as well. This was never part of the agreement. So we now have reason to take Mr. Jones in for questioning."
Sanji felt a wave of selfish anger flood him. This wasn't fair. He knew for a fact they'd been working with Big Mom. And Smoker had to have known it too. Big Mom was the one who should be getting locked up.
"I guess your brothers weren't too smart," Zoro muttered, for the first time since entering the room. "They really thought it was Big Mom…"
The cook glanced over at Zoro, who'd reacted a lot more calmly, but still looked confused, his brow furrowed in the way it always did when he was working through something internally. Conversely, it was also the same look he'd gotten the previous night when Sanji had tried to show him how to arrange a dinner plate properly.
"What about Crocodile?" the ex-swordsman asked, lifting eyes to Smoker. "He and Big Mom knew about this. They knew his brothers were trying to get the account info for themselves, so they could get out of Impel Down early. They knew that was happening, but it wasn't Big Mom's account, so why were they so…."
But then, his eyes widened slightly before he rolled them.
"Fucking - they were after Hody," Zoro growled. "The whole fucking time - Big Mom fucking knew to set you up. 'Cause you'd go and turn the shit in to the police."
Maybe normally Sanji would've made some sarcastic compliment about Zoro figuring all that out on his own with his tiny brain….if the revelation hadn't been so infuriating.
He hated the thought that Big Mom knew anything about him, that he'd been involved with her family long enough that she'd be able to predict his actions in any way. He felt stupid, and violated, and he felt stupid for feeling violated. He didn't want to keep helping them, even indirectly.
And Pudding….she'd deceived him yet again.
"Ah yes, Roronoa, how is that stint going?" Smoker asked around his cigars, voice laden with sarcasm. It was clear he wasn't happy with where Zoro had ended up. "Still Crocodile's-?"
"I quit," he interrupted. "I got the fuck out of there as soon as this shit started."
Smoker rose a brow, the only hint of his surprise.
"Admirable of you," the captain muttered, having stood corrected.
He picked at the files, lifting one page and letting it fall back down again absently, watching his guests.
How these two standing before him had become involved with one another was beyond him. They were cases he'd dealt with around the same time. In fact, if he recalled, Roronoa's situation had interrupted his first proper meeting with the blond. Both men had fallen upon desperate times, and somehow ended up dragged together by some rather strange circumstances.
He couldn't say that was too out of the ordinary though. If his years in the force had told him anything, it was that six degrees of separation were usually more than was necessary...
"My advice to you, Mr. Vinsmoke, and I suppose to you as well, Roronoa, is for you both to watch your backs," Smoker said. "It now stands to reason that the Fishmen, especially their second-in-command, Arlong, will not be happy with you in particular, Mr. Vinsmoke."
"Like I fucking care about that," Sanji hissed bitterly, running a hand through his hair.
The room fell into silence, the only sound that of the ceiling fan spinning quietly, doing nothing to cut through the tension.
The cook finally sighed, clenching fists at his side and pivoting himself towards the door, clearly done with the conversation.
"Is that all you have to warn me about?" he asked, and when Smoker said nothing more, merely tapped his cigars again, Sanji nodded.
"Then I'll take my chances," the cook said, before turning on his heel and heading for the door without further word.
"I'll be in the car," he muttered to Zoro, and pushed past him to exit the room.
Zoro watched him go, a weird urge coming over him to run after the man, to stop him and - what? He wasn't sure, just knew that he had to suppress that odd urge in order to keep himself rooted to the spot.
It left him alone with Smoker, the captain still sitting quietly at his desk, observing the scene with a far-away look in his eye.
"Still too emotional, isn't he," Smoker said, almost to himself, removing cigars from his mouth and gesturing them towards the closed door through which Sanji had left.
Zoro slowly turned his head to look at the man, silent question in his eyes.
"And then there's you," the captain muttered. "Who refuses to show any."
How could he know, after all, that inside, Zoro's emotions surged just as powerfully behind a stony facade that really wasn't as strong as everyone thought.
Smoker reached out to flip shut the file Sanji had brought to him, sliding it aside on his desk as he watched Zoro, the man he'd last seen in as desperate a situation as Sanji's, being carted away willingly to a prison he didn't deserve to go to.
Smoker knew this. He'd tried to help him, tried to stop his sentence, but Zoro had been broken, seemed to want punishment for a crime he hadn't meant to commit. And in the end, the most he'd been able to do was stabilize his sentence to the minimum, a year.
It had frustrated even him, made him doubt the very justice he'd always believed in, and left him all the more determined to see the Vinsmoke case through, to make sure someone ended up where they deserved….
"How's your daughter?" the captain asked, remembering clearly the regret he'd had, that yet another child would lose a father, much as the Vinsmokes notoriously had. He had no kids of his own, but he knew the feeling, though he rarely spoke of it - how it felt to have a father leave and never return.
"She's okay," Zoro answered quietly. "She's strong."
Stronger than him, he knew…
"M'gonna go," Zoro added, still in the room, but his mind already out the door with the cook. Then he echoed Sanji's words. "I'll take my chances with those bastards too."
And without waiting for Smoker's reply, he gave a short nod as he had upon entering, and left, closing the door behind him.
Smoker stared at that door for a minute afterward, at that entrance through which so many had come and gone.
And yet, it was the ones that returned that kept him the most interested.
Sanji's forehead was pressed against the steering wheel, listening to the distant sounds of traffic outside the parking garage, the occasional echoing screech of tires as cars descended the ramp that spiraled outside the parking tower.
There were a lot of cars parked in the sprawling space, and he'd wanted to kick dents in every single one of them.
He'd gone and done what he hadn't wanted Zoro to do. Run. Let himself get overpowered by emotion.
He'd texted his sister during his bout of anger, because he needed answers, dammit. Had she known this would happen? Had she left him to get tricked? To have false hope over this, only to have it crushed yet again?
He didn't know, but he was sick and tired of people taking advantage of him. Even if his brothers really hadn't known the truth about the account's real owner, he'd still been forced to deal with them again, to relive every bad thing in his life that he'd thought he'd put behind him.
He just wanted some honesty for once.
The sound of the passenger side door opening. The slight dip of the car when Zoro got in.
Sanji's eyes were closed, still hunched over the steering wheel, but it was obvious it was Zoro. He smelled the leather of his jacket, the unique steely scent that was just...Zoro. Maybe it was the grass growing on his head. Sanji didn't know. But it was definitely a Zoro smell.
He said nothing, didn't move, and Zoro said nothing either.
Sanji was glad for this. He was done ranting. He was so done. He didn't want to be angry anymore. He just wanted to distance himself as far as he could, so he didn't have to dwell on this shit any longer.
Zoro said nothing, but he wondered if the swordsman was thinking something similar.
He heard Zoro breathe in slowly, almost meditatively, before letting it out in a measured exhale.
A second later he spoke.
"Tashigi and I were never a thing," he murmured.
Sanji's eyes opened. He didn't sit up entirely, just kept staring at the dashboard, the dormant speedometer that looked as listless as he felt. But he was listening.
"I didn't….wanna see her because..." Zoro began, and he huffed out a breath, clearly trying to gather his wits. "She looks just like Kuina - fuck. The glasses are different, and - and her hair, but….I just couldn't…"
Sanji straightened, leaning back in the seat and turning his head to look at the man, his eyes drifting over Zoro's features, features that mirrored so much of what he felt himself.
"I was in there…" Zoro continued, staring fixedly at the glove compartment in front of him. "And I thought - just for a second…..why the fuck can't I get over her? Why can't I let go and - and fucking move on?" He gritted teeth and closed his eyes. "And then I go and call myself selfish for even thinking that….fuck…"
Sanji felt his chest throb, in a strange way, almost as if his heart had been filled with cotton but continued to flutter lightly. It was an odd feeling, but dammit, it was odd, to hear his own thoughts voiced so perfectly by his friend.
It made his eyes burn, and he swallowed hard.
"I think that all the time. About Pudding," the cook breathed, unsure of why he was letting that spill. He never voiced these things to anyone, not wanting to sound weak or pathetic. "I think it about all of this shit, really…Big Mom….my brothers…feel like I'm just waiting for someone to fucking….sign the shitty permission form that says I can leave it all behind me."
Beside him, Zoro snorted, and for a second, Sanji thought he was being laughed at, something that disappointed him above all else.
But instead, Zoro merely replied, "You got a pen?"
The breath shuddered out of the cook, eyes quickly meeting Zoro's before he'd decided upon it.
Zoro smirked a little, then shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed as he turned away, facing front.
Sanji sat there for a long moment, unsure of what to say or do, so he turned to face the steering wheel again, eventually starting the car as an afterthought.
A hand moved to shift the car into reverse, but he stopped with a sharp inhale, wrapping hands around the wheel tightly and looking over at Zoro again.
"Fight me," he said, finally voicing something he'd wanted to happen for a while now. Ever since he'd first seen Zoro enter the dojo, jump that huge hurdle that had stood in his way for so long.
"I seriously need to kick the shit out of something, and, as it stands, you're probably the only one who can take it," he continued, though it came out quickly, a little nervously because Zoro hadn't said anything.
It shouldn't really have been such a big deal, but Sanji knew. He knew Zoro hadn't sparred with anyone since…..well, since his wife. He hadn't even picked up a weapon against his own daughter.
He didn't even care if Zoro fought him with his bare hands. He just wanted to go against someone he actually respected, for once. And - yes. Yes, he respected Zoro. He could admit that.
But did Zoro feel the same way about him?
Zoro didn't reply right away, just swallowed hard and seemed to work for words…..until finally, he nodded, gaze shifting to the blond again.
There was a bit of fear there, a bit of uncertainty, but there was also something else that Sanji couldn't quite place.
In fact, it was trust, Zoro acknowledged, as he watched his friend.
"Okay," the swordsman said, sealing his agreement.
And even though his heart was pounding a little harder in his chest, it still felt pretty good.
"Have you convinced your father to spar with you properly yet?" Robin asked as she drove her black Mercedes away from the middle school curb, Oliver in the front seat, and Thomas in the back with Tana.
"Not yet," Tana muttered, settling into the leather seat and stuffing her backpack near her feet.
Where even was her dad? Her mind was entirely on that question because her dad had insisted the police stuff would be okay. And if he was going to be gone long enough to want Thomas and Oliver's mom to pick her up, then something must be wrong, right?
"Ah," Robin said, turning onto the main street as her son fiddled with the radio and began turning up the bass to the max on the speakers. She caught his hand smoothly to stop him without so much as looking.
"I'd hoped maybe he had, considering where he is right now," she added.
"Where is he now…?" Tana asked, having to raise her voice when Oliver cranked the volume on the music instead. Thomas covered his ears beside her, and Tana punched the back of Oliver's seat, which made her friend snicker and, thankfully, turn the music down, settling into playing quiet air guitar instead.
"He and your friend, Sanji, were on their way to your grandfather's, I believe," Robin answered, glancing back at Tana through the rearview mirror. "I assumed for a bit of physical fun~"
Her little innuendo went completely over the children's heads, as she'd known would happen, Tana's confusion seeming to come from a completely different place.
"Really…?" the girl replied, a curious smile tugging slowly at the corners of her lips. "They're gonna train?"
"It would seem so. Judging by his text," Robin said happily. "Perhaps he'll have a date to the gala this weekend after all~"
Oh, right. The annual museum gala. The one her parents had always attended to support Robin despite hating getting dressed up and sitting still for a fancy dinner.
It would be the first year her dad was around again to attend, but she'd assumed he'd skip it entirely, especially after quitting his job with Crocodile. His former boss was always there, usually gave some long speech. She remembered from the year they'd dragged her along. It hadn't been fun.
"Aw, Mom, do we have to go to that?" Oliver whined in response, pausing his fake guitar playing to look over at his mother pleadingly. "It's so boring! There's only so much they can say about cultivating history and forging a new future!"
Robin chuckled.
"But we're adding some new pieces to the Egyptian temple this year~ Aren't you interested in seeing them unveiled?"
"I am," Thomas piped up.
His brother quickly looked back over his shoulder, muttering through clenched teeth, "But wouldn't the house to ourselves for a night be cooler?"
The younger boy's mouth formed an 'O' of realization, and he sunk back in his seat a little sheepishly.
"Oh, yeah. That'd be cooler," he remedied.
Tana rolled her eyes over at him too, like he'd just ruined some grand scheme they'd been concocting, and as a matter of fact, he had. Having the run of Thomas and Oliver's futuristic house for a night would probably be the most fun ever.
"Am I correct in assuming you don't want Paulie to babysit again~?" Robin asked, smiling knowingly at her two boys.
"Mooom!" Oliver yelped, thoroughly embarrassed by his mother's suggestion. "We're too old for a babysitter!"
"What a shame," she replied. "I seem to recall you all had a fun time last year~ He taught you how to lasso Mr. Boodle's dog?"
"Oh, yeah, that was pretty cool~" Oliver replied with a laugh, snapping right out of his complaining.
Tana punched the back of his seat again.
"But nah, Mom, we'll be fine!" Oliver quickly amended, before moving his seat back all the way to try and crush Tana's legs behind him in retaliation.
"Doesn't Dad have it set so only us and Mr. Roronoa can get in the house anyway?" Thomas added, trying to be more helpful this time. "He made me pluck a hair from his head for the DNA recognition when he was sleeping….and we all wondered if he'd died because he was sleeping face-down on a pillow."
"That's a fact!" Oliver justified to his mom. "So no one's gonna get in the house. And we won't go in the pool or anything."
Again, Robin chuckled, and shot a smile at her sons when the car pulled up to a red light.
"Perhaps you should compile a PowerPoint presentation tonight to help argue your case," she suggested. "Your father and I will review it together and come to a decision."
Thomas and Oliver looked at each other, then at Tana, who quirked a brow at both of them, before they turned back to their mom.
"How many slides?" Thomas asked, at the same time his brother wondered, "Can it include animation?"
Tana smacked her palm to her forehead.
"Simple animation is acceptable, yes," Robin answered. "Nothing too distracting. And as for the slide quantity, so long as the presentation has clear opening and concluding statements, any amount is fine."
The boys then lapsed into a detailed discussion about how they could best plot out their argument.
Tana, meanwhile, groaned and knocked her head against the headrest, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to drown out her friends.
"Tana?" Robin said after a minute, talking over her sons. "I'd take you to your grandfather's as well, but I don't want to interrupt your father's playdate. So I'm afraid you'll have to endure these two for a while longer~"
"It's okay," she replied, not taking her eyes off the ceiling, and though her tone sounded exasperated, her words were true.
She'd told her dad she believed in him, believed that things could change for the both of them.
Maybe her mom was still gone, but her dad was coming back. And even if she was going over to her friends' for the millionth time in lieu of her dad being home, it was different now.
She wasn't going just to escape him anymore...
"You got what you wanted," Crocodile rumbled, taking the drinks Paula slid across to him from the other side of the bar and passing the massive sugar cookie martini to Linlin beside him.
He wished the damn woman would stop coming to him. He was more than exhausted with filling her absurd orders for sweets and the like, and Paula seemed to commiserate, having shot him a look after having mixed a ridiculous concoction of chocolate and cream liqueur, butterscotch syrup, and vodka, all with fucking sprinkles on top. It was midday, and the casino rested for no one, but preparing such sweet abominations was not something his bartender appreciated.
Paula rolled her eyes when her boss gestured for her to go back to work, but tugged her printed bandana tighter and moved to the other end of the bar to tend to a pair of idiots who were already drunk before the afternoon had ended.
"Hody's done, as you wanted, and for the life of me, I have no idea why you needed to consult with me about any of this," Crocodile grumbled, watching Linlin guzzle down her drink with rather disgusting vigor.
"Well, I didn't need you, Croc. It was simply in the interest of establishing an alliance," Linlin replied, laughing far too loudly, a clump of sprinkles stuck to her terribly-painted lips. "Don't you think that's a good thing? The more allies the better! You'll, of course, help me out when I need it, and I'll help you~ Not to mention, between the two of us, if those darn Fishmen decide to retaliate, we'll get ourselves out of it with no problems!"
Crocodile stared at her, deadpan, waiting for something she said to make sense, or to make all of this trouble seem worth it. But as far as he knew, there was really no benefit to his involvement, and now he was saddled with this obnoxious burden of a woman.
He got the feeling she'd just been looking to show off how 'clever' she was, even though he thought she was quite the opposite.
"Paula," he muttered quietly, yet the woman heard him, appearing opposite him despite the deafening noise of the casino in the background.
Crocodile merely held up one finger and she nodded, knowing his drink order, the driest gin possible. He'd finish it in no time, however, so he twirled the same finger in indication he'd need another.
Paula nodded, quirking a brow and doing her best to hide her irritation over the ridiculous situation her boss had gotten himself into.
The man looked back over at his guest, who'd slammed a hand down on the table and started screeching, "Another, please!" in her grating voice, indicating her already empty glass.
Paula stopped short, turned around with the fakest smile she could muster, and took up Linlin's glass, the smile turning into more of a disgusted sneer when she saw all the crumbs that covered the woman's face.
She not-so-subtly wiped at her own mouth, not that Big Mom even got the hint. It was more for her own amusement anyway.
Crocodile, meanwhile, was losing patience with this shit. He didn't have time to sit here and humor the massive woman all day when she continued to butt in where she wasn't wanted.
This wasn't what he wanted. The casino, as big as it was, would never be enough so long as what he really wanted was still out there. What he'd wanted back for years.
And he knew for a fact that the woman sitting across from him had managed to procure one such coveted item. He supposed he'd try his luck, his last test to see how useful she'd prove herself to be.
"You say we're allies," he said, interrupting the stupid bout of horrendous humming the woman had fallen into. "Then I'd like to see you stick to your word. You own a Road Poneglyph. Let me buy it from you."
It wouldn't be that easy. He was well aware of this, and it was obvious when Linlin merely ogled him for a second, then began laughing all over again.
"Sell it to you? I'm afraid not, Croc! That old thing's one of my most prized treasures! It's absolutely not for sale. Not even to my friends~"
He'd known she'd say that, and, as it was, her reply was enough to cement that he absolutely did not want her help obtaining the one he really wanted, not if she was so protective over her own. It wasn't worth the trouble.
He fell into silence, gladly taking his drink when Paula slid both of the new ones over, swirling the liquid around in a few circles before lifting it for a long swig.
"Wouldn't it be fun if I killed that Vinsmoke boy~" Linlin was saying casually. "He was willing to turn me in! Betray me like that! I don't want him in my family anymore! He's not good enough for my lovely Pudding!"
But Crocodile wasn't listening, instead pulling the small plastic sword from his drink, the one that speared the olive, and studying it.
No, he didn't need Big Mom's help to get his hands on that poneglyph, the one that would give him the most satisfaction to own.
But he might be able to snag the help of someone who could actually be of use to him. By force if need be.
He'd told the man they were no longer allies. But all this ally talk was really just a bunch of bullshit, wasn't it. Big Mom was proving that to him right now.
His world was one of pirates, stuck on dry land, but pirates nonetheless. And pirates took what they wanted, when they wanted.
He stabbed the sword back into the heart of the green olive.