Naghi-Tan: He did, and this Law has no idea. As he wasn't a part of that guy, some things he's finding out only after. His body remembers certain things, though, but we haven't reached that part just yet. ; )

8: Is Someone to Want Him Back


The pedestrians moving around them dismissed their presence as they walked down the sidewalk. Sanji could still hear Luffy yelling out his assurances from the van, telling them to stay in sight. Having released his hand, Sanji worried his own before shoving them into his overall pockets, nervously waiting for Law to speak. But the older man seemed to avoid looking at him – tattooed fingers clenching tightly at the strap across his chest. He would inhale to speak, then release it just as tightly, giving up on the words that felt reluctant to leave him.

This stubbornness of his…! Sanji thought with impatience, glancing at him. If there is one thing I can't stand

Almost as if he'd heard him, Law looked at him. He seemed to wear a surprised face, so Sanji wondered if he'd spoken out loud, clenching his teeth with a sense of drawing horror. He pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand, feeling nervous as the silence drew out. Pausing at a stoplight, pedestrians crowded on one side of them and a homeless man crying out with animosity towards turtles on the other; the pair took up a section of the sidewalk that caused others to pass around them with vague expressions of disdain.

"You're two different people," Law said slowly, with much effort. No one was paying them any attention – too involved in their own thoughts and their headphones obvious. Sanji could hear angry calls and cries from somewhere, but he focused on the man with intensity.

For a moment, Law could see the waiter looking up at him with impatience – hands tucked in pockets, frown on the lips, hair in the face – but it was obvious both of them were different. The waiter's hair was groomed – he had signs of a mustache and a sputtering mixture of hairs on his chin – he preferred fitting, stream-lined clothing and wore the air of confidence in anything he did. His eyesight was perfect – often spotting a beautiful woman from blocks away before making Law aware of it. There was always a cigarette present – behind his ear, at his lips.

This one had messy, frizzy curls (that were currently blowing free in the soft evening breeze), bent glasses, and slouched shoulders – slinking his way through a crowd without being noticed(like a mouse). He didn't draw attention to himself; he was soft-spoken and quiet, but he had a certain gruffness to him that often echoed the waiter's impatience(nagging). Both of them disliked men; this Sanji avoided looking at them, and barely noticed a woman passing by. The waiter was fit and healthy – this one looked like he was coming off from a long-term illness (Sanji never said why he had the eating habits that he did, but Law noticed the efforts with food)

Law noticed the faint tinge of loss at that moment – but he also remembered the waiter telling him, 'I'll make my way back to you…'

Here he is, and I'm ruining this, Law thought with vexation, aware that the long pause was growing awkward. As he watched people use the crosswalks, impatient drivers honking horns, he was aware that Sanji had looked away and was focused on examining his shoes. I'm ruining this!

"Look," Sanji interrupted his moment of self-admonishment, frowning up at him, "just…t say something. Say – anything and everything's that's on your mind! You have this…guilt complex going for you that's holding everything up. Nothing – I don't know if you think whatever you have to say is going to hurt me, but…I'm not afraid. Alright? I've got this far in life, hearing everything that anyone can say to me that's – hurtful or damaging, and it's not like I'm going to die from it. If you think that – "

"You're two different people, but you do the same things he does!" Law snapped at him. Sanji paused in mid-gesture, watching him briefly before wearing a puzzled look. "Putting yourself out there for people that could give a fuck about you – "

"Yeah, I get that you have a complex about it – " Sanji then cut himself off, frustrated with his own voice. He clamped his mouth shut, and gestured at Law to continue speaking. "Keep talking. This is good. Tell me."

"Are you going to continue interrupting?"

"…No. Sorry…"

Exhaling hard, Law clenched the strap at his chest with both hands, frustrated with the way things were going. But Jean Bart was right – Sanji needed to know. Law's efforts combating this thing running about would be hindered if he kept panicking over what Sanji was doing. But the fear couldn't be dismissed.

"That is why I…he died protecting others. None of who gave him a second glance – your mother, your father. Threw himself over two people that continued to…dismiss you. Apparently. Your father had to have known what your mother was trying to accomplish. Seeing your face could be the reason why he never warmed up to you. You were a reminder. Your mother – selfish bitch that she was – tried to take your life – his life – again. People that don't give a fuck, and you just…toss yourself out there like they appreciate it. That's what I mean about creating boundaries, that's what I mean when I tell you - !"

Sanji understood. Words wanted to fly out in response (to argue?) but he held himself back, biting the tip of his tongue to keep from interrupting.

"Whether I influenced her actions," Law continued bitterly, "trying to protect someone that was already taken from me before – I don't know. Those years are a blur – it felt like I had just re-awakened once I was returned. But I am here now, and I keep seeing a damn repeat every time you extend a hand to someone that doesn't give a fuck how you feel about it!"

"And," he added, now that he could express himself, "you don't give a fuck about my feelings, either. Not then, not now, because you dismiss them like they're nothing. And I have to shoulder the consequences of them. I feel like my feelings aren't worth shit."

Sanji didn't know what to say. Hearing the other man's emotions as he expressed them made him feel a myriad cluster of different things (was that guilt?), and he wasn't sure how to sort them out. All he knew right now was Law's pain in that expression – but another set of feelings rose up in him (frustration, offense), and he realized why Jean Bart had said what he had ("You can't change someone's nature to accommodate yours.")

"I am present every time we go out to these hunts, and every time you – open yourself to people that wouldn't have done the same to you. That kid back there? He don't give a fuck about what you do or say – that housewife back there? She didn't give a fuck. And that priest you tried to hide? You can bet he isn't thinking about what you did for him, either! He could give a flying fuck as well!"

"That's a lot of fucks," Sanji murmured with concern, losing the battle. "You're very angry about this."

"I am! Why can't I be?"

"Tell me," Sanji said, reaching out to touch his hands and watching them flick away, avoiding his touch as they were shoved into pockets. He faltered for a bit, but then reached out and grabbed Law's jacket instead (unconsciously holding on before the man could leave), "when you met him, did you find hope in that aspect of his because you once thought that he'd give a fuck about you despite your constant fuck-offs?"

At that moment, Law could see a memory clearly: of the waiter smirking at him, drawing on his cigarette while Law was sitting angrily at some park bench (pissed for some unclear reason).

'I was sent here for you,' he said (voice so clear and confident), 'because you need someone like me to forgive you for your shitty attitude.'

Pedestrians walked around them, not giving them a second glance. A fire truck rumbled by, hoses and tools rattling from within their assigned cabinets. Someone was playing pulsing music that caused glass to rattle. A dog barked from an open car window as it flew by.

Law knew he wasn't the easiest person to get along with. He was fully aware of his walls and distance – he knew he wasn't the easiest person to love. But one man did.

"You're two different people," Law said, but it wasn't a response. It was something he said aloud to assure himself with. "I gave you a gleam to save your life – it's gone. It's obvious. It left an impression – but nothing more, so – "

"I am my own person," Sanji agreed, fingers tightening and bunching up in Law's black jacket. "Just as you are. I might be a…physical impression, but he and I…are obviously different. He gave me all his good points, because you recognize them – but the rest of me – they're mine. And I'm not that person because you don't treat me like that person – you treat me like I'm a leftover."

With an exhale, he added lightly, "Just warm me up in the microwave, man. Leftovers are still good with the right amount of warmth."

"Jesus Christ," Law muttered, hands to his hat with nervous gesture.

"I could have just…let you go," Sanji then said, watching his fingers tighten in the material of the black jacket, "but I can't. Despite what you think about yourself, thinking I'm hung up on someone else, it's you I have feelings for. So…some compromises need to be made. One of them being that you can't change me, or who I am. I'm telling you right here, it's easy to give myself up because I'm worthless – my family made that clear to me years ago. Because of that feeling, I put myself in their place, too. I know how it feels to have someone give up without even trying…"

Before Law could say anything, Sanji jerked on his jacket to keep his attention. "And here I am, not giving up on you, because I sense that you need that, too."

"That's what I'm trying to say," Law insisted low, gritting his teeth, "if you weren't worth it, then why does it piss me off when you put yourself in situations I can't stop?"

"I can't stop being who I am," Sanji said low, "and I can't be him. So you need to understand that any similarities that we might have – won't be the same reactions that you would expect."

Law exhaled heavily. Of course it made sense. He closed his eyes with a heavy sense of obviousness to him that he felt down to his toes. But that anxiety persisted. That time of grief was so suffocating, so overwhelming – he couldn't bear it, again. He was just starting to breathe, again. Starting to convince himself to open up – but every time this one did something similar to him, he couldn't help but lose his bearing. Pedestrians crowded around them once more, impatiently waiting for the light to turn in their favor. A few took risks. Cars rumbled by, an ambient collection of moving lights without particular details. Everything was so much bigger than when he'd left it.

"Besides," Sanji added, loosening his fist within the material of his jacket, "I don't do it for the living."

"Doesn't make it any better. Their torment is easily fixed by my sword."

Sanji swallowed, watching people cross. Avoiding their advances by leaning up against the stoplight. He understood why Law was so fidgety and reluctant. Looking into the distance, he did question himself as to why he even gave the ghosts his assistance (Sabo's puzzled, scarred face came to mind) but he couldn't feel any regret in it. The living he could ignore – it was easy to. They ignored him. But the dead whispered in his ear and sobbed tears that didn't drop.

His mother had tried to kill him in her ghostly form, and he'd ducked flying objects flung by invisible hands. A ghost's hug could leave bruises on his skin, and a loss of breath from his lungs – but he couldn't imagine just stopping because Law felt a certain fear in it.

But this was a good thing – these words the man spoke were words of love despite the actions behind it. He was someone's anxiety, for reasons he couldn't imagine (despite being told so obviously – his insecurity was much too heavy), and he felt good about it. Someone cared – someone living breathing and alive, just like him, cared about him. His chest hurt just thinking about it.

"I think you need to learn to trust me," he mumbled, then rose his voice slightly. "I might not be someone you can have confidence in, but that's damaging, too. You'll end up like my mother – thinking her love was the only thing that could save me."

Law exhaled again, watching the traffic flow. His fingers gripped with strength around the strap across the chest. I know, he thought with frustration. I know.

"As for the other…I'm sorry you had to go through that. But he gave you a gift," Sanji then added slowly, watching the older man's face for changes. "Don't fuck it up overthinking it."

Law looked at him, frowning. "What gift was that?"

"He showed you what it was like to be loved, and what it means to love. Most people nowadays don't have that."

"Don't minimize my pain," Law warned him gruffly.

"You're allowed to feel pain. But you're not allowed to let it dominate you. You have something to look back on and feel lucky to have – appreciate what he gave you. Whatever his reasons that day…" Sanji exhaled heavily as he trailed off, wearing a sort of bewildered expression. If he hadn't, would I still exist? He looked at Law with that expression. "I'm appreciative, because it allowed me to live. If he hadn't, would I be here?"

Law frowned down at him, the concept whirling around in his thoughts. It struck him that this was so. (Complicated – it was all so complicated!) Before he could say anything, he noticed that the group had successfully replaced the tire with a spare. Luffy was yelling at them, hand waving fiercely in the air to return.

"Now that you understand," he ended up saying, looking down at the dirty sidewalk, "don't do anything stupid. Let's go."

"Hold on there, John Wick," Sanji said, catching his jacket before he could move, "you enlisted me into this. I'm part of the crew. Define 'don't do anything stupid,' because the stupidest thing I could ever do was agree to do this with you guys."

"Create your boundaries. Quit letting everyone past them."

"Hey," Sanji then said, firming his grip when Law attempted to walk away again. He forced the man to look down at him, cold fingers to his cheek. Once he was satisfied with the impatient look Law gave him, Sanji asked, "are we cool? Both of us. This…what we have here between us. Even without it being said aloud, it's obvious. Why pretend that it's not?"

Law took a deep breath, observing the activity around them. Luffy was leaning against a meter, dully calling their names repeatedly while Penguin and Shachi argued with each other and Jean Bart took a pull of relief from an open can. Before anything could be said, Sanji leaned up to kiss him. Law quickly pulled away, glancing at those around them.

"Oh my god!" Luffy cried with horror from a distance. "Get a room!"

"I'm not there, yet," Law told Sanji gruffly before hurrying away. Sanji frowned after him, hands tucked into his pockets.

Nobody paid them any mind - he doubted they even noticed what happened. Thinking about Law's reaction to the gesture, Sanji fisted his hands within his pockets. In a time of convenience at a swipe of a phone, this felt like a rejection, not old-fashioned appropriation.

"Damn it," he hissed bitterly, looking in the opposite direction with disappointment. He resisted the urge to stomp his foot, inwardly berating himself for doing something so hasty. He wanted the physical interaction so badly that the gesture – something he'd given before without hesitation – was impulse. Give comfort, receive comfort. Physical needs were human – but permission was human, too.

It wasn't a rejection, he thought sourly. Just a man caught in the wrong era. The situation still felt so delicate – like holding a butterfly between cupped hands. His own impulses were difficult to sort out.

He turned to head back, focused on the sidewalk with a frown to his lips. He only became aware that he wasn't alone because booted feet were moving in tandem with his. He paused in mid-step, forcing a couple of chatting pedestrians to stream around him without stopping. One of them swept through the dark, hooded figure, whose face was hidden within the folds of that hood. The hood was attached to a cape that covered most of the man's upper half, only allowing glimpses of his torso – from the set on his chest, the man had his arms crossed. The battered vest, long sleeved shirt with threadbare elbows and cuffs, the high-waisted trousers with suspenders that didn't fit with modern styles over boots that looked outdated caused Sanji mild curiosity.

It was rare to run into a ghost that wasn't dressed for the times, and he couldn't place the timeline on these clothes.

Boundaries, Sanji thought hurriedly. The man followed alongside him, and Sanji focused on the group waiting for him by the van, determined to ignore the presence. Luffy was complaining noisily to Law, who was snapping back at him impatiently, Jean Bart using the back of his hand against Law's head.

"I know you can hear me," Sanji heard the man speak low – with a tinge of a growl that caused the hairs on the nape of Sanji's neck to rise – so Sanji covered that ear with one cupped palm, quickening his step. "Find that dog, yet?"

Because the question was so direct, Sanji paused to look at him. He couldn't see the man's face, but the hood covered head tilted upward ever so slightly, turning with just enough give to allow Sanji the impression he was being pierced with some unknown gaze.

"No," he answered with clumsy response. "You've seen it?"

"It's no animal. And I didn't do it," the man replied, Sanji's skin breaking out into goosebumps. "None of it. Not after that."

Sanji tried to sort that out, giving the others a glance to see if they were aware of the moment, but he returned his attention back to the man. Once he realized the other man was gone, he turned in a slow circle, scanning the streets. The whole encounter made him uneasy, hands out of his pockets to worry at his overall straps. For a moment, he felt dizzy with some suffocating pause that made his mouth heavy and his limbs stiff. People continued to walk around him, steadily ignoring each other and his presence in the middle of the sidewalk. The sound of a car horn caused him a jolt, blinking slowly at the sight of a café window in front of him.

With a wince, he reached up to his hair and began pulling it from around his face, away from his ears. He found a hair tie on his wrist, and used that to pull it into a messy ponytail His reflection was still unsatisfactory.

"Haircut," he murmured low to himself, puzzled at his own reflection.

"Let's go!" Penguin bellowed from the van, rapping at the door with one angry fist.

Sanji hurried over, feeling a little clumsy with his movements. Low iron, he thought with a frown.

: :

Hours later, he was staring at his reflection in the bar restroom with a sense of detachment. There was a man at the urinal, and music beating from beyond the closed door. He washed his hands, slowly rubbing soap mixture between his fingers and scrubbing at his palms. He used it to wash his face, rinsing off moments later. The man washing his hands next to him frowned, but left without saying anything. Sanji gripped the sides of the sink, listening to his own confused thoughts.

Maybe I was nagging, he reasoned of Law's earlier reaction. I came on too strong. This world is so much different from what he's used to. Can't take it personal. When will he allow me to touch him?

He removed his glasses, setting them inside his overall pocket. Grabbing paper towels, he dried his face and hands, once again frowning at his hair. The frizzy mess made him shake his head with mute disgust. Haircut, he thought again.

"Meat grease?" Luffy asked from behind him, startling him as the teenager looked at him suspiciously. "My face gets super greasy, too. Hey, at least you're not breaking out every five minutes, not like my face. Super volcanoes all over my forehead and stuff. One on my chin. See? Acne scars."

Sanji glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then tossed the used paper towels into the trash nearby. "Privacy. That's all I need. For five minutes."

"I mean, you were in here for a long time. That old guy is getting super cranky about it," Luffy said with a scoff. "'Go see what he's doing', he says. 'Hold your breath if you have to!' Stupid old man – I can't smell anything! Plus, a man needs some modesty!"

Sanji's fingers went up to his hair, giving it a frown. "There's so much hair."

Luffy looked up at him skeptically as Sanji scowled at himself in the mirror, trying in vain to shift strands around. "You were fine with it earlier. I mean, it could use a chop, but I dunno what the big deal is now. Kinda reminds of me Sabo's hair."

"You miss your brother?"

"Yeah, like…all the time. Sucks I can't talk to him."

"Maybe you should go back to him," Sanji murmured, touching places along his jawline with a sense of detachment in his actions. Did I look like him? The other man? He wondered, trying to picture someone better than him. "To…Sabo."

"You guys brought me here," Luffy reminded him crossly. "To help, or whatever. Robin wanted me to help you – I don't know, she wasn't even clear on that. She taught me how to do some stuff then…"

He gave a shrug. "None of you guys know what you're doing, either! That old man just keeps drinking and you're, I dunno, freaking out because of a fight you two had…nothing is organized."

Sanji turned away from the mirror to consider his words. As if he needs another reason to drink, he thought sourly. Why am I doing this…?

Focus.

"No other word on the dog?" he asked, reaching up to pull and tug at his hair, removing the hair tie to make a tighter ponytail. This is ridiculous. Too much hair - !

"No," Luffy stressed with exasperation. "Where's Robin, anyway?"

"She comes and goes," Sanji said with patience, pulling away from the sink and heading for the door. He looked back at Luffy once he realized the teen was just staring at him, mute with some indecisive look to his face. "What?"

"I don't know you very well," Luffy admitted, moving to join him, "but something doesn't seem right about you. Are you…you guys are fighting, aren't you?"

"No." Sanji opened the door and stalked out, scanning the bar. He found the men seated there, drinking amber liquid from tall, frosted glasses while Jean Bart served others that approached the counter. He shrugged his shoulders as Luffy sighed theatrically behind him. "Passing the time having a drink or two may is nice. But we're wasting time, here. That thing is getting stronger."

"What is it, anyway?"

"Nothing human," Sanji muttered, headed for the door. "Tell them I'm busy. Need a haircut."

Luffy watched him go with a skeptical expression, hands in his jacket pockets. After a glance at the others, he ended up following after the other man without saying anything.

: :

Back at the apartment, Sanji stared at himself in the mirror for some countless minutes. The air was suffocating in here – the windows had been pulled open, allowing the night city air to drift in. Curtains rattled at the rods. The sounds of traffic were a gentle ambiance against the ringing silence. Everything felt so frustrating – simple movement was a struggle. He'd found some shears near the bedside stand, and had his hair brushed out. His appearance bothered him.

Did I look like him in anyway? Sanji thought vaguely, staring at eyes that were deeply ringed with sleeplessness. His appearance nagged at him. The way Law spoke to him felt like an ice pick. He don't know what he wants. Probably won't ever.

Boundaries, he added, picking up his shears. He gave himself a haircut, blond strands falling around the sink and fluttering to the floor. Once he was satisfied, he rubbed one hand through the mess, then used his brush to comb it all into the sink. He resisted to cut shorter (it would draw too much attention).

To whom? He thought with bewilderment, pausing in mid-snip, staring at himself once more. His reflection was troublesome – all he saw was a troubled young man staring back at him, his face grim with his own thoughts. When was the last time he looked at himself? He looked down at the scissors in hand, then at the blond strands that were built up within the sink's curvature. It startled him to see this, looking back at himself with a light gasp and noticing his appearance.

As he ran his fingers through his shorn strands, panicked at the difference, Sanji reasoned with himself. People have breakdowns all the time. This conversation was a difficult one. I'm not the guy. He can't touch me or bear to have me touch him because I'm not the guy.

He braced himself against the bathroom sink, scissors scraping at the porcelain. When he lowered his head, the strands fell messily around his head and shoulders, but it seemed more manageable, now. Maybe a change was appropriate, he thought with some distraction. My hair was a mess in the first place.

He used water to comb it carefully into place, lips pulled into a grim frown. Setting that aside, he stared at himself in mute silence before pushing away, yanking at the straps of his overalls. He climbed out of those, removing his shirt and ventured into his closet. He found a vast majority of oversized clothing – are these even mine? – but settled on a black v-neck shirt he found folded in the back corner of the shelf, along with some old jeans that fit. He pulled those on, then rummaged for the all-weather boots.

There was a jacket hanging behind all the other shirts – almost hidden. A brown jacket with shearling lining – Sanji was mystified at the sight of this. This isn't mine. A vague memory of him hiding away Law's things (his ex) told him that this jacket didn't belong to the collection that one had left behind.

He tugged it on anyway before leaving the closet, venturing into the kitchen. He was ravenous. He found an apple and chewed on that while looking for some snacks. He made a thick sandwich and poured a cup of milk. It felt like he hadn't ate a thing for some years.

Milk sloshed around his mouth and jaw, and he wiped that with the sleeve of his jacket before abandoning the mess. Rummaging through all the drawers, he found what he was looking for. The cleaver was still within its packaging, and he tore that off before uncapping the gleaming steel.

He missed the wooden handle of his last weapon.

He set it down on the counter with a heavy exhale, the utensil clattering noisily amid the silence.

GET OUT, he thought with panicked command, watching his fingers tremble against the counter as he braced himself. GET OUT OF ME.

He pictured the man he was talking to on the street, and pushed away from the counter, gritting his teeth. Marching into the bathroom, he stared at his reflection, trying to see beyond his angry expression. Like a wave of passing steam, he could see sleepless, troubled black eyes, a narrow nose, and dark skin.

You can't do this! He thought fiercely, squeezing his eyes shut. I reject you. I reject you!

Find the dog, another thought whispered over his vehemence. "Find the dog, get rid of it."

"It's an evil thing," he addressed himself calmly, his voice deeper than he remembered. His throat hurt allowing it to escape. "It's nothing like a human being. Took over my Pearl like a cougar on a pup. Didn't give Pearl a chance."

"GET OUT OF ME."

"I didn't do those things. It made me do it. It was easy pining it on me. They believed in witches and the devil, but not the innocence of a man in the wrong place," Sanji insisted, spittle wetting his lips with his insistence. "I'm a free man. Did no wrong. It was easy blaming me when they could find no one else."

Swallowing tightly, Sanji stared at his reflection. He could see only himself, but it felt like the air he was breathing was new and dirty. He missed the taste of the Midwest dust and the smoke of a campfire.

Boundaries!

"I have boundaries," he wheezed.

"I am innocent. That thing is no dog. Pearl was just a pup. All I had in the world."

Sanji recalled Law speaking of how to capture a gleam – he didn't explain how to release it. But he felt the man's vehemence in what he was speaking – innocent. He was a pawn. Used by this…thing.

Not an animal, but something demonic and strong. Whatever it was, it was responsible for this man's crimes.

"I can't let it happen again," he said low, staring into his own face in the mirror. "It has to be destroyed. I could remove the body, but not the actual thing."

Sanji was treated to the memory of bloodied hands, an old bottle with a doctor's advice written in careful cursive. Seated in some quiet forest where birds were missing and even the wind refuse to blow against leaves that always seemed brown. The smell of something rotting in the distance seemed to hang over him like an invisible blanket. He heard gurgling, the sound of a man in agony – the angry snarl of something that wasn't human.

His heart stopped racing in panic.

"If you couldn't do it then," he said low, "what gives you the confidence, now?"

"Peace for Pearl."

Over a dog….? Sanji thought with despondence.

"We traveled distances on trains, together. Gave him whatever I could spare. He was my only companion. It wasn't right seeing him ripped apart by that thing. And to clear my name. No one remembers it now, but it wasn't me."

"I'm the wrong person to use, then," Sanji said, clearing his throat. It was dry with the shifting of voices, throat scratched with the differences. "My companion is better at this."

The ringing silence afterward caused him discomfort, but Sanji wasn't sure whose it was. He swallowed tightly, trying to identify the feelings roiling around inside of him. He couldn't tell which was his feeling to feel, or what they even were. He pushed away from the sink, turning off the light. Walking back to his kitchen, he picked up the cleaver. He tucked that into his bag and after a glance around his apartment, he went to the door.

Luffy was standing outside with a puzzled expression, looking from him to the door. "I can't go in," he said with immense confusion. "There's some kinda wall there. Oh, you cut your hair? Looks good, I guess."

Sanji stared down at him for a few moments, then pushed away from the entrance, headed for the stairway. He paused, then turned and headed for the elevator, Luffy following after him with a puzzled frown. Before reaching it, Sanji adjusted his bag around him, looking at Luffy with discomfort.

"You can't see him, can you?" he asked the boy, who adjusted his hat with mystification.

"I mean, you're acting funny," Luffy started off with uncertainty, then shrugged. "But I don't know what I'm looking at."

Robin, Sanji thought with distress, reaching into his pocket. Once he realized he was wearing a different set of clothes, he paused in mid-search. The bullet was in his overalls. Luffy pressed on the elevator prompt with tongue between his lips, then cheered noisily as the lights began to flash. Apprehensively, Sanji watched the approach.

"Take us back to the bar," Sanji told Luffy lightly. "My mind's a bit…foggy."

"Something is," Luffy agreed skeptically, leading the way into the elevator.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Sanji then said, once they were settled and Luffy jabbed all the buttons at once, snickering. "You're here to help, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Stop me if I start doing some….unnecessary things that aren't fitting of my character. Can you do that?"

Luffy stared up at him in immense confusion. "But I don't even know you that well."

Sanji smiled vaguely at him.