The air was drenched in the smells of salt, grease, and savory meats. Doflamingo, Diamante, Trebol, Pica and Vergo sat quietly at their table, dividing their attention evenly between their breakfast and the frightened tailor held at gunpoint by Jora and Lao G.

"Your suits," the man stuttered to say, eyes constantly darting to the side where Lao G sat on a stool, hoisting a large rifle pointed directly at him, "well, I worked rather hard on to meet each of your demands, and I'm certainly hoping…"

"Yeah, yeah," Doflamingo interrupted, waving a fork carrying a strawberry dripping in balsamic vinegar. "Get to the point, we got things to do, don't we boys?"

This was an important meeting, but after a long night and hardly any rest all Doflamingo wanted to do was start his day with something cool and refreshing, accompanied with silence and serenity. A clean start to a night plagued with horrific memories.

Vergo nodded before lifting his cup already containing the dried stains of heavy creamed coffee. Pica lightly poked the yoke of his egg, letting the contents spill over on to the his toast while Trebol teased Diamante, letting his fork loaded with sausage bits get dangerously near the yogurt.

"Now Doffy," Jora said. "This man worked very, very hard on your suits now. Let him feel some pride in his work. Let's not forget he's doing this for free now." Oh, she sounded a little disappointed. That was no good. Doflamingo stuffed his mouth with his fruit in order to look distracted. He heard Vergo snicker next to him, so he gave a quick shove and heard something splash all over followed by Vergo swearing and Diamante laughing.

"Right," he said. He placed his fork down and cupped his hands together, his elbows leaning and spread on the table. He was careful and listened to the sounds of the man's heavy exhales, the shoes rubbing nervously against the fabric carpet, and kept his face directed at the source. "Go on then," he coaxed, "show me the fruits of your labor."

In order to start a business, you had to begin at the bottom. There were all those rookie pirates hoping to make a name for themselves, eager to set off without any idea of where to start. Doflamingo knew better. He had plans, and he knew if he wanted to make any sort of impression in the underworld, he would have to be professional about it.

But pretending to pay attention was a chore. Unlike Trebol and the others, who had a particular theme in mind when they had their measurements taken, Doflamingo chose a rather modest design. Not even that, he brought Pica aside and asked him to pick something simple and "serious looking" for him. The tailor was using elaborate diction to make it sound like he spent hours on something fabulous but Doflamingo knew better. It was a black suit.

A few times he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He was tired, and without food to distract him, it was hard keeping awake. He felt Vergo lightly tap his shoe with his own, bringing him out of his daze. After a few blinks and another poke, this time the tip of the shoe against his leg, and Doflamingo was back to being semi aware of his surroundings. He concentrated on his officer's poor eating habits, letting loud slurps and munching keep him entertained until the man finally moved on to Pica.

He went back to eating his meal, though by now he less in of a mood to eat. He hardly got any sleep last night, and waking up from that nightmare left him so filled up with adrenaline that he spent the rest of the morning busying himself with other things. The food was good, but he lacked the drive to finish it.

"Doffy," Trebol whispered, lighting jabbing his captain with the end of his spoon, "is something wrong with your food?"

Now Trebol realized there was something off. Doflamingo lowered his head, nose flaring and picking up the sweet smell of his breakfast underneath. There was nothing wrong with it. It was a nice treat.

"Too much balsamic and peppers," he lied. "I can't eat this."

Trebol muttered a few words, and Doflamingo felt the soft vibrations at the table as his officer lifted an arm, gesturing to either Jora or Lao G a silent message that he couldn't detect without the use of his powers. The meeting continued with the frightened tailor giving off detailed descriptions of the hard work he put onto their outfits, showing off suits that Doflamingo might be able to appreciate later.

The meeting ended shortly after, with Jora and Lao G congratulating the tailor for being so polite and compliant before taking their officers and captain's new suits to the ship. Vergo took Doflamingo by the hand and said something about distracting themselves for a while, leaving Trebol and the others in the hotel meeting room. Doflamingo didn't have to think too hard about what those three would do once he and Vergo were at a safe enough distance.

"Maybe we should get donuts?" Vergo suggested as the two of them walked down a street in the middle of the shopping district.

The air already carried the taste of heat and ash in it. Doflamingo brought a hand to cover his mouth as he yawned, not the least bit bothered by the warm smells of cinder.

"Eh, I'm not really hungry right now," he confessed. "I'm more tired than anything else."

"Not enough sleep last night?"

Doflamingo was careful with answer. "I was busy making plans, for when we enter the black market." He shrugged as they continued down the street, listening to the occasional gasp and remark about the town's hotel suddenly catching aflame. "I must have lost track of time…"

"Ah, I get it," Vergo answered.

"So, you like your outfit?" Doflamingo asked, changing the topic of the conversation.

"It's good," he answered. "Nothing too elaborate, but still very nice. I think you'd really like it."

Doflamingo smiled. He could imagine, to a limited extent, the sort of design his friend might go for. He and Vergo weren't too different. They favored comfort over anything else. "Well, try not to get crumbs and shit all over it," he said, throwing his arm over Vergo's shoulder.

"Promise you won't shove me and we have a deal," Vergo replied before nudging his friend in the rib. The pain was enough to jolt Doflamingo back to his usual state, at least for a short while. It didn't take long for some of the fatigue to return again.

The streets grew crowded with nervous spectators trying to catch the fire from a safe distance, and soon it became impossible to traverse through the busy town without bumping into someone. Seeing that Diamante and company were on the run somewhere, and not wanting to garner any negative attention, Vergo and Doflamingo decided to appear as casual as possible, and walked into the nearest thrift store to distract themselves in.

Vergo pulled worn out coats to try on, and Doflamingo did his best to look interested, giving a nod and raising his hands up and pretending to care about the feel of the leather, cotton or faux furs. Considering they just landed themselves some nice suits, Vergo parading around and pulling out silky scarves and scratched up shades to wear seemed a little out of place.

"Try this on."

Doflamingo was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, in deep thought and trying to make sense of the cruel, red stained memories his dream had dug up when Vergo tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"I think this will look good on you," Vergo said, raising something up to him. Whatever it was, it sounded heavy as Doflamingo detected something dragging on the floor. "It's real nice, trust me."

"Eh?" Doflamingo shrugged, not the least bit interested in adding yet another coat to his already heavily amassed collection. "If you like it so much, why don't you give it try?"

"No, really," Vergo insisted, pushing something soft against Doflamingo's face. It tickled. Was it feathers? "Give it try. I think it suits your style."

Considering Doflamingo's style was a collection of soft and random garments thrown together, he could only imagine what horrible thing was thrust into his hands. But he was in no mood to get Vergo to try it on first, and it wasn't like he made any effort yet to keep his friend entertained. It was time to do his part.

"Just throw it over my shoulder," he said.

"You don't want to feel it?"

"I'm afraid if I do I'll want to end you," he answered.

Vergo snorted, and Doflamingo was sure right then this was going to be a hideous piece. But then he felt something rest on him, and Vergo's hands leave him, and he realized that the coat he was wearing, while massive in its size, wasn't as heavy as he though it would be. It was mostly all feathers, Doflamingo could tell by the slight tickle going down his lack and all over his neck. Perhaps that was why it didn't feel like a burden to carry around.

"Huh," Vergo said suddenly.

"What?" he asked.

"I was just thinking," Vergo replied, "this might do some good and contrast to that boring suit of yours." He felt Vergo's hand rest on his shoulder, fixing the coat and lifting up his shoulder.

"Give me a second." Doflamingo grabbed the coat, pulling it off of him so that he could fit an arm through. Then the other. He heard Vergo mutter something, but he didn't care. He felt the inner linings of the coat, one of the few places where the cloth came and kept everything together, was surprised to discover that it was just as soft and light as the feathers lightly rubbing against his skin.

"Pink?" he asked quietly.

He didn't need to lift a hand to know he got it right on the first try. "You got it," Vergo answered. "A rather light shade too. Probably something you wouldn't wear daily, but it could work with a few of your outfits.

As people continued to talk and gossip over the fire, Doflamingo concentrated on a distant, familiar feeling welling up inside of him. Those horrible memories that had bothered him all morning and day were quieted and replaced with something warm, something he almost forgot about until now.

"Then again," he heard Vergo add, "It's a pretty big coat. And all feathers too…it'll be a pain to clean and care for."

"Yeah, you're right," Doflamingo agreed. It was a secondhand coat. Of course it felt soft and light. No wonder he felt so safe and nice in it, someone had warmed it up for him. Perhaps even several. And it was all feathers. Odds are it would last only months before the elements would get to it, ruining it. What a waste of money it would be. Heck, it would be a waste to steal.

More than twenty years later, Doflamingo sat against the windowsill, feeling the light breeze carrying the smells of a summer in Dressrosa up to his room. He was awaiting a call from Punk Hazard, and though he was patient, the weather was only getting warmer, and he wasn't sure he could tolerate so many layers. His shirt was already unbuttoned, and that did little to stop the sweat.

The feather coat rested in his closet, at a distance.

Finally, the den den mushi awoke and called for him to answer. Doflamingo picked up; eager to learn what sort of nonsense was taking place without his knowledge.

He didn't think he would need the coat today.