sanji shivered, the heat of the stove a bleak warmth, 'there's a cold wind coming.'
'less nonsense and more cooking,' zeff shouted.
the fire of the stove quickly enveloped him in heat when he came back to himself, storm long out of his mind.
mihawk was on his way for his weekly meal, hopefully this time the swordsman wouldn't drag a pirate fleet behind him.
a ghost. mihawk had brought a ghost with a shrill laugh to the baratie.
sanji thought he might've preferred the pirate fleet to this, it was hard to cook and serve when there was constant screeching in his ears. although he could be the only one to hear her, the patrons and cooks didn't seem to be dealing with the noise.
except mihawk, sanji thought, the swordsman looked to be one minute away from slicing his ghost companion.
there wasn't enough budget left to repair the restaurant after mihawk's last stint. the man always gave a note saying to add it to his treasure tab. if they found out which empire the swordsman had been assigned to, maybe they could collect the money as collateral damage. hopefully they still had the receipts for past repairs still lying about.