Landfall
Poem for
Shadows and Fires
~Whether you are a drop of rain,
Or a spot of dirt,
You suffer the impact.
The binding touch of destiny.
And from there,
Things get muddy~
Nami didn't like the look of the clouds. It would storm tonight that was for sure. She eased the throttle of her sports bike, leaning into the wind as she turned, and tailed the truck in front of her, coasting in its tire wake. The rain was bad enough. And if these storms were the start of the season she might just have to switch to the bug she kept around. She turned off, finding the agreed upon coffee shop. She released her throttle entirely, coasting around the curbs and the one exiting minivan. She slid into a space, kicked out the stand, and set her legs down, staring through her helmet into the shop. She closed her eyes, gripping the handles hard.
"Alright, you're not going to mess this up. You'll be professional, helpful, the perfect editor. She won't even be your type. Yeah." Nami released the handles, cracking her neck. "This won't be another 'tales of coyoshi' bomb. No flirting, just work." she took a deep breath, and dismounted her bike, pulling on the retractable tarp Robin had gifted her for her last birthday, easily pulling it from the tail, over her seat and handlebars, magnet clipping it to her front wheel. She removed her helmet, shaking out her hair in the sudden wind.
No need for helmet head. She made for the shop, realizing after entering that she'd only told this V. Nefertari what she would be wearing, and had no idea what the woman looked like. She unzipped her leather jacket, proudly showing her Sunny Publishing shirt, with its golden lion logo, its mane a pride rainbow. She looked around. No one seemed overly interested, certainly no one waving her down. Maybe she'd been early?
She double checked after she'd ordered her coffee and snack, finding one empty table with a unmistakeable tower of paper on it, a sandwich half eaten. She got closer, confirming her suspension that one, she was not the first here, and two, the woman had hand written two copies of the manuscript… insane.
"You must be Nami." She jumped, spinning so fast she flung spray from her helmet onto the woman's dress. Her very pretty, very expensive looking Bliaut. Nami gasped. The dress was white, a golden tassel belt wrapped around her middle, 3/4th sleeves that had excess enough to reach mid-thigh on the sleeve droop, even as the woman's hands crossed her chest blocking the water.
"I'm so sorry!" Nami called, reaching for the woman's unused napkins and gently patting at the dress, trying not to notice how it clung around the woman's slim waist.
"Its fine, really, it didn't get much." the woman laughed like a fairy, grabbing at Nami's hands with a softness she had been long without. Nami pulled back, finally seeing the woman's face, and her long dyed blue hair braided and decorated with golden ribbons. She looked like a princess, with sandy skin, smooth, like the woman had never suffered a zit in her life. Nami was speechless. This was the woman she had spent a hundred dollars writing back and forth with over the last week. The one who wrote letters, and novels by hand. The woman was smiling. Oh, she had dimples. Adorable dimples…
"I'm so screwed…"
The woman cocked her head, the smile and dimples replaced by a look of concern. "I'm sorry?"
Nami flushed, she hadn't meant to say that out loud. "Nothing." she tried to wave it off, and then waved at the seats. "Please let's sit, i'm glad we got this meeting set up so quickly-!" they hadn't. It'd taken a week, most new authors took three days to get a meeting once Nami had decided to purchase the book.
"Me as well, i was surprised to receive anything on my first submission."
"Publishing houses are notorious for rejection." Nami said. This was good, she could slip into work mode. "Do you have any prior experience with publishing?"
"I'm afraid not. I know what a hassle that must be, getting a complete newbie." she was back to having a kind smile, fiddling with the pages of her book, just as nervous as Nami felt.
"Not at all. The hardest part will be transferring the paper to a computer. Do you own a computer?" Nami had to ask, but that dress was expensive, it was definitely from a speciality shop. Nami knew that much just from work. They got enough bad romance through Sunny, all of it spending hours describing the clothing. It could be mood setting, or era setting yes, if the reader knew the difference between the roman style, and the much more popular french models. Or in the way that this Nefertari used the clothes. For instance Bilaut's were typically worn with just a undershirt, warm, doubly warm in the fall, often floor length, but with two of three handfuls pushed up while she was on a table, there would be nothing between Nami and-
"I do. Oh, mailing it in must have been strange."
Nami faced out the window, begging her blush to go away. She had really just been thinking about that. Here with the client across the table. She feigned a cough, hoping that was enough of an excuse, and took off her riding gloves.
"No, well, it did catch our eye. Not many people mail in manuscripts, much less hand written ones. Truly more impressive than anything else… but had we been a traditional publisher, you might not have been considered."
"Then i'm double lucky that it found its way to your desk!"
"Oh, uh…" Nami smiled and rubbed her neck, she was really screwed… Robin must have known. She should have just googled her. "Really, it's no problem. Aside from being the lead publisher for the LGBTQ community, we are also a small enough publisher to offer the occasional developmental editing. Have you-?" She stopped, seeing the woman blushing, and looking at Nami's shirt. "Did you… not know that?" Nami tried.
The girl shook her head. Not entirely strange. The novel was about two male lovers. Originally Nami assumed a male writer, as it was fitting for the publisher. But this made more sense. Nami felt herself relax. This woman had stumbled upon the gaydom by chance. If she was straight, that solved a lot of problems for Nami. She extended her hand.
"I'm sorry, I jumped right into business, I'm Nami, head editor for the romance division."
"Vivi, a lost fawn apparently." the woman laughed. A wonderful sound. Nami grit her teeth. She was straight, let it go. They shook hands.
"Vivi." Nami tried it. And nodded. "Alright Miss Vivi, have you ever heard of developmental editing?"
Another shake of her head.
"That's fine, it's just a big picture look at the novel as a whole, and i think it's the right place for us to start, basically me and you will do our best to understand the story, combining my experience and your vision."
"Alright, that seems doable." Vivi looked excited, and Nami opened her backpack, pulling out her copy of the manuscript, as well as the legal pad she had full of notes. Lots and lots of notes. Vivi looked less excited when she saw that. A total virgin.
Beginner. A total beginner…
"It can be a little daunting at first." Nami said, and her drink was dropped off along with her sandwich. "But we aren't on a strict timeline, at least yet, so we can go at your speed, and if you have any questions ask them." Nami paused, leaving an opening for any questions. Vivi asked none, and had a look of concentration, her eyes only on Nami, the dark brown eyes filled with determination.
"A basic overview of the full process typically from the quality the work is at now to publication is around two years. Are you ready to put in a commitment of that size to this?"
"That long? It sounds like a adventure."
Nami laughed at the innocent statement, realizing too late that she had been serious. And now the blue haired princess look-alike was giving her a confused half smile.
"I'm sorry, excuse me." Nami waved a hand, and grabbed for her coffee. "I'm sorry to say editing is more of a 'face to the grindstone' situation."
"Then we will just do our best to make it fun!" Her voice was sweet. "Will I always be working with the same editor?"
"Typically." Nami gauged her reaction closely. But she had a poker face of a smile. "Of course if you wanted, you can request a change at any point."
"I doubt I'll have any need for that." She said quickly. Nami's chest fluttered and she reminded herself, once more, that this woman was likely straighter than an arrow. And already she had no shortage of male attention in the shop, just by the dress she wore, and the flawless face, with cheekbones so sharp they-
Nami sipped her coffee, tipping her head back so she blocked out her view of Vivi, desperate to regain her senses. She said she had a computer. It might be wise to conduct the majority of their work through the faceless internet, where she couldn't day-dream and get lost in those sweet welcoming eyes, Or distracted by her long neck, which plummeted into the sweetheart neckline showing ample-
Dammit…
"Are you okay?" her voice was concerned, her head cocked again, and Nami tried a smile, and grabbed for her sandwich.
"Yeah just, famished. I haven't eaten all day."
Another lie. Sanji had made the office his famous shredded pork pot with homemade buns. She took a large bite, and prepared to hate her scale later.
She chewed fast, and looked back over her work. She flipped to an empty page, clicked a pen out.
"Let's start with what you think of the story, did you have a deeper meaning you wanted to weave into it or-?"
She'd promised the meeting would only be an hour. It'd been three and they were finally packing up. The rain had gotten worse, and Nami spied the newest model phone in the woman's hand as she texted for her ride. Nami paid for their drinks, because that was custom for the publishing house, and she'd said as much when Vivi had protested. But Nami wouldn't deny the little thrill it gave her. Mainly because she was still trying to strangle out that part of her. She zipped her bag, slinging it and grabbed her helmet, three paces behind Vivi as she exited.
Vivi was waiting under the overhang, the rain worse now, and Nami guessed that the tiny purse of Vivi's didn't have an umbrella. Her bike was around the corner, but she stood next to Vivi.
"Is it alright if i wait with you?"
"Another excellent business practice?"
"This one is just me." Nami admitted, Joining Vivi in staring out at the cars speeding by. "I have a bike, so the longer I wait out the rain, the better."
"I see." Vivi gave her a curious smile. "Is it fun to ride?"
Nami stopped, the offer of a ride dying on her tongue. Definitely inappropriate to offer that to a client.
"I enjoy it. Most of my coworkers call me crazy for it."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Sure, like anything though. If you have the right gear, you'll be fine." Nami hefted her helmet. Vivi didn't care for it, she was focused on the jacket, her hand running along the leather, down her arm, grabbing at the bicep. Nami flexed, more in shock than anything, glad she had gym days with Zoro, so at least there was something there.
"Strong… durable." Vivi said, lifting the arm, both hands feeling at the glove, fingers running over the knuckle guards. Nami bit her lip. Authors were a dozen kinds of weird. This was just... research, tactile description research. Still made the butterflies go crazy. Vivi had brought the captured hand closer to her face, looking at it in detail. Itd be easy, Nami could move the hand, brush the lock of stray hair that had escaped sometime around Koza's motivation review, and bugged her ever since. Push it behind Vivi's ear, and if she blushed Nami would dive in. Steal a kiss and damn her career. She would have too, had her phone not chimed off her now twice daily reminder.
Vivi seemed equally shocked, releasing her hand quickly, and Nami dug her phone out, using the expensive glove's fingertip to swipe off the reminder.
"I hope that wasn't work, mad that I kept you so late."
"No, not at all." Nami smiled. "Just a reminder to not be impulsive." she looked back at the phone. She'd almost kissed her. She had almost just gone and done it. This wasn't good.
"Arent impulses the purest of our wants and needs though? Free of that pesky logic, and the norms of the world?" Vivi was looking at her with that dimpled smile again. And she was close. Half an arm away. Nami could smell her perfume, an intoxicating mix of floral notes. She wanted to step in. Just to see what Vivi would do. But that's only what she told herself. One step without reaction and she'd be brushing the hair away, and then who knew what would follow. No one.
"In my experience-" She leaned back a bit, adjusting her footing to look less at Vivi and more at the road, stealing a few inches of distance. "Impulses are just as ruinous and they are fortuitous."
"Then they are a gamble, nothing ventured, nothing gained."
"Well when you put it like that." Nami said out, her foot turning, ready to carry her on this wave of impulse that shouted with every hormone in her body to close this distance, fix the hair, and kiss the woman dammit!
But a car pulled up. And not just any car. A fully customized, top of the line Galley-La. Nami's jaw dropped.
"This is me. It was nice meeting you Nami. I look forward to working with you, and I promise to get this typed up as soon as possible!"
Nami took the hand, shaking it, still dazed. She watched the girl speed walk to the car, using her waterproof folder as an umbrella. The door opened automatically, and she caught just the faintest hit of a man, exoctic with deep skin and a proud nose. They drove off in glory, and Nami was thankful it had showed up when it did. It had saved her a colossal amount of embarrassment. She put her helmet on, turning the corner and looking at her bike, a Galley-La model a dozen years old. Sunny didnt pay alot. Enough to keep it tuned up, and to afford her top line safety gear. Even then she could afford that only because she rented a tiny studio in the shitty part of town.
She kicked off the magnets, and the tarp auto retracted in the blink of an eye. She swung onto her bike, letting her head drop, her helmet catching between the handlebars arresting her fall. The man seemed a bit older then Vivi. Maybe a sugar daddy? Nami would saddle up with a millionaire too. At least this way it'd be easier to crush the lingering hope.
…
Zoro set the phone down and started to close out his tabs. Finishing that, he pushed back, grabbed his bag from under his desk, and slid in the fresh printed chapters.
"Nami, I'm heading out to a meeting with an author." he rose.
"You shouldn't have-' he flashed her the white folder he had placed his chapters in. the special binder he had for 'The Greatest Swordsman' work. "Be safe."
"Always." he muttered, and grabbed his jacket.
"Oi," Sanji gave him a glare, coming from the break room, lifting a plastic bag.
Her dumplings. Her favorite food. And Sanji always had them in stock at the work fridge. Zoro swallowed, reminded himself that this was Sanji, making a gesture on a woman's behalf. No endearment for him. He took the bag.
"Thanks." he muttered. He got no reply, and he left it there. A week wasn't enough time. Every word the man said had Zoro's rapt attention. Needlessly attentive to every gesture Sanji made. Zoro could laugh at himself for how pathetic it all seemed, knowing Sanji probably wasn't going through any of this. He'd always been the one better at keeping composed. On top of his own shit.
Zoro met the bracing winds and ice rain, his jacket was thick and water proof. It was also one Sanji had bought him last year. He hated how warm it was. How dry it kept him. But he didn't have any other coat. He'd need to buy a new one soon. He got paid next week. He'd do it then. He double checked his phone to the license plate then waved the car down, easily sliding into the back.
"Mr. Roronoa?"
"That's me."
"Going to Merry General?"
"Yeah." Zoro was already looking out the window. The same confirmation every time, regardless of driver. The Sunny disappeared to a row of other buildings and streets. Dead trees and sad storefronts blurry by in a gray haze. Always gray. At least this one didn't try to talk, asking all sorts of questions, most of which had bad answers that'd make Zoro have to either dance around them, or make it uncomfortable for both of them by answering.
Sanji would have driven him had it been another day. Zoro rolled his eyes at himself and leaned back. He needed to break the habit of comparing every moment to one with Sanji. It was over. Done. Final. He needed to get over it. What was that saying, you needed a week for every month you were together? Was that for consecutive months? Or all together? Did the weeks apart, scattered throughout their checkered past count already? Or did you start only when the separation was final? How did it work, not being able to go back?
He spent the ride thinking about it. Finding no answers before his driver gave a polite cough. Zoro wondered how long he'd been mindlessly staring at the fifth floor window. He thanked the man, and got out. Leaving a medium tip. He'd been quiet but Zoro wasn't rich. Three bucks would have to do. He turned his phone off, and made his way into the hospital, nodding at the familiar nurses who waved. He signed in and took the stairs three at a time, almost breaking a sweat by the time he reached the fifth floor. He knocked, hearing a soft voice. He assumed it was enter, and he did.
Kuina lay on the single bed. Wires in her arm, and oxygen tubes in her nose. She looked pale again. And her hair was all gone. She'd taken it all in stride. Her spirit was indomitable like that. She was flipping her pen through her fingers. A skill she'd picked up in her extended stay here. Just like she'd picked up writing. She eyed the bag, and her pen dropped, both hands reaching out.
"Please! Oh please please!" she wiggled her fingers. Her energy was up. That was good. He tried to forget that it was most likely the peak she got in between treatments. She set the bag on the tray she had in place, and tore into it. Using the fork Sanji had provided to spear her first victim.
"Good, get distracted and softened up by food." he sank into the bedside chair, pulling out his glasses, and clicking the folder open. "You can't have the duel end with Shanks losing his arm."
"But-"
"This is romance." He knuckled the paper, and glared over the edge of his glasses. "Mihawk is falling in love with him, not killing him."
"Here me out!" she said, following her burst with stuffing a dumpling in her mouth. He raised his eyebrows and scoffed as she took her time to chew. Finally she swallowed. And started to lick her fingers.
"Kuina, cutting his arm off in their second duel is extreme, unromantic. It'll turn readers off."
"But it's the only way." She said. "Shanks was very clearly defined as the better swordsman in their first duel. If it's a stalemate the book ends flat, but if he loses the arm, then it would end one and one. And they could never host a tie breaker because Mihawk would never fight a one armed man for the title. If they are both, in Mihawk's perspective, equal, with no way to settle the score, then the third book could be his transcendence to greater meaning, and-" Zoro raised a hand. And hummed, letting her know he was thinking it over. He shook his head, his hand falling.
"If Mihawk took the arm, that'd be surpassing Shanks, tie aside." she pouted, eating another dumpling. "But, maybe Shanks could still lose the arm. Just not in the duel. Make the duel a stalemate, find another way to chop off Shanks' arm, and then we are back on course for the third novel. Whatever course that is, with all these changes."
"Inspirations Zoro. with all these inspirations. You want one?" she offered a dumpling.
"I'm fine," he flipped through the pages, recalling the first book by memory, some of the details fuzzy. They'd gone through nine first drafts. And three or four more in the editing rounds. "There's a kid Mihawk was sweet on in the first book, the abandoned cat scene, what if Shanks loses the arm saving the kid?"
"You don't want one." she slid the dumplings aside, looking at him hard. "What happened." Zoro sighed.
"Kuina, let's work on this, the kid?"
"You're my brother before you're my editor, now tell me what happened." she had her arms crossed. Her will up and ready to outlast his, again. Not that the sterile white sheets were helping his resolve in this fight.
"It was just another fight… our last one. Now-"
"What do you mean your last one? You fight all the time but-"
"He broke the farewell code."
The room went quiet. Then she closed the tupperware, placing the dumplings back into the bag.
"Kuina, eat them. He makes them for you-"
"What did he say?" her eyes were stone hard, her lips drawn in a near scowl.
"Really, can we just work? I'm too tired for this."
"I could talk about tired Zoro. or we could talk about the scar you're walking around with. The fresh one that looks like it went right through your heart."
He hated when she pulled that card. Permanent advantage. He really couldn't handle her talking about the chemo. Not any better than she did at least. It was for her that he'd do this. He shuttered through a deep breath.
"He told me to figure out if I was the beast or the man… then he slammed the door in my face. I deserved all of it, really, the things I said."
"Stop." she had her hand up. "Don't sink into your twisted Self-flagellation. That's helpful for zero people. I thought you were going to therapy for your anger?" he snorted.
"With what money?" He regretted the words instantly. The way she shrunk. The guilt in her eyes. But she bounced back. Fiery over the guilt.
"I've set you up with debt for life anyways. What's a little more on top?"
"They turn you away when they know you don't have the money for it." he said, and looked at the T.V. off right now, but it was somewhere away from his sister's eyes.
"I'm sorry Zoro."
"Don't be." he looked back, catching the trail end of more guilt. He hated seeing that. "Ace had me move in."
"You didn't clot up did you?" she asked instantly. He gave her the same glare he'd been passing out like they were free. She raised her hands and leaned back. "Alright jeez."
"As i was saying. Those three are like therapy on their own. And they know me better than Dr. Hiriluk does."
"You mean they can stop you from drinking." her voice wasn't mirthful. Not like it was when he was drinking in his twenties. Thirty changed everything apparently.
"And more." He argued. But nothing came to mind for evidence. Her hand went to his wrist, sitting there and she squeezed.
"Maybe this is for the better. You two were like volcanoes together. Beautiful but-"
"Destructive." he finished. "I know. Ace has been talking me through it. You two share a lot of the same opinions on this."
"I'm assuming this is why you had Nami do the copy editing last week?" He nodded. And she pulled her hand back, playing with their father's old fountain pen. It actually had a designated spot on the folder. But they each liked to keep part of it. "You know, Nami could finish the series. If you wanted to switch jobs. I know you've gotten offers from-"
"I'm not passing on the project. I'm a big boy now, I can work in the same building as my ex."
"I have no doubt. But in the same department? In the desk right across from him? I don't mean to evoke the power of hindsight here, but this stubborn, struggle through method hasnt worked in the past. Maybe-"
"But it's different now. Officially over." he beamed a fake smile. He didn't need to be reminded of all of this. It was all he could think about already. "I'll be fine."
"Those offers come with pay raises. Substantial ones. The offer from New-world had a weekly therapy kind of salary."
"I like my job. Sure there's an ex across the table, and a witch for team lead, and a terrifying boss. But the work we put out there. If we didn't do it, no one would. Those offers just show me that I'm doing my job. For the Sunny's dream."
"A Queerer future for literature." Kuina said. "I know, you have your dream like every other underpaid superstar stuck in that niche house. But I have my own dreams, among them is seeing you happy. And i don't know what that will take."
"Oh, i can tell you that." Zoro said, feeling a genuine smirk slip onto his face. "Nami has been raving about this new book she got, she says it'll blow mine and Sanji's third's out of the water year after next. You want to make me happy, help me make her eat her words." Kuina got a lazy smile and started spinning her pen again.
"Alright you workaholic…" She hummed, her pen spinning fast. "Shanks hasn't really met the kid, it'd be a hell of a coincidence. But like you say, those are tested by their payoffs. Which we would have an entire third book to build on. It's risky."
"Swoon worthy." Zoro corrected. "It'd make the fans clutch their gay little hearts with angst and anticipation." Kuina snorted, and fixed her oxygen tubes.
"Right. Alright let me see the chapters. We might have to set this up earlier than the third act. Did we have any weak scenes in the middle build-"
…
Firsts came in a variety. A nearly endless variety if one carried a free enough mind. It was certainly the first time Robin had been trapped in a mechanic shop while the storm made landfall with a light show, one bolt of which had struck the three man wide puddle just outside the shop, drawing a unrefined scream from Robin, who'd been leaving, soaking in her nearly scalding water.
She had landed flat on her ass, shedding her coat as the water that soaked it burned. She reached out for the nearest towel frantically wiping away the water from her face. She tried not to whimper, and examined her hands, noting that she'd grabbed a grease towel and without a doubt now had streaks to accompany her ruined makeup. Thankfully the water hadn't burned her. It felt like it would, with the way her coat had heated up, and her face stung.
"Are you okay?" Franky asked, by her side, his face flashing from the window to her, awe all over it. She looked down. Didn't want him to see her mess of a face. "Quite the scream." he added when she didn't answer. She flushed, and buried her face father into her legs. Her pant suit soaked. And she was rubbing her greasy face on it. A total loss.
"I'm fine." she let out a breath.
"I'm terrified." he said, still at the window. She still heard the puddle splashing. "You're soaked."
As if on cue she felt the shop's draft, shivering now. She was cold. Her coat was soaked, too hot or too cold it was out of use, and she didn't think she could stand yet, let alone leave.
"My office has a heater, and i can find you a clean towel." his voice was closer. She peeked out, seeing he was offering a hand. She still didn't trust her heater did sound nice. But… his hand. That wasn't a first right? She'd shaken his hand, passed him keys. She reached out, laying her hand in his. Tiny by comparison. And he pulled, lifting her effortlessly to her feet. She stumbled once, remembering she was wearing heels. Of course just when she'd thought she'd had it she stumbled again, realizing too late that she'd broken a heel. she landed against his chest, his other arm coming around her to hold her steady. He was so warm. She hesitated to push back, unable to stop the way her hand splayed its fingers on his chest.
"Sorry. I-" she shook her head, pulling back fast, finding her balance now.
"Your fine, got the balance now?" he asked, his second arm coming up her back, to her shoulder.
"Yes." she tested it. "I think I do." she wobbled, thankful she still had his hands.
"Just take them off. You won't be doing yourself any favours walking like that." he said. She looked around at the shop floor. It was clean, aside from the old and permanent stains. She dipped, still holding tight on his hand as she undid the thin buckles and stepped from her shoes. The floor was cold. Freezing even. She shivered involuntarily. Her pants were sticking to her skin and the draft was chilling her right up to her thighs. To make it worse the office with the heat was across the shop. No matter, she could do this. She gathered up the shoes and the offending heel, and turned, taking a step to follow Franky and shivered again, the small of her back seizing with the chill. She did her best not let her discomfort be audible. But she'd failed, a tiny sharp breath of pain.
Franky turned, looking her over, flashing a look back to the office.
"I'm coming." she promised at his questioning eyebrow. "Just c-cold."
She mentally face-palmed. Why couldn't she just walk like a normal person? Why did she-
Her mind went blank as Franky swept her up, one arm on her back, cupping her shoulder in his hand, the other hooked under her knees. He cradled her close. He wasn't just warm. He was a furnace. And she felt a dozen times colder, her body's best attempt to trick her, to lean in. She didn't of course. She did nothing. Letting herself be carried without a word of protest. Frozen. He nudged the door open with his leg, and the chill melted away in the heat of the room.
She looked away from him as he set her down, and he made a B-line behind the desk, playing with the thermostat on the back wall. She eyed a chair and sank into it. Curling her icy toes into the warm shag carpet. A strange feature to put in the office. But she had no complaint at the moment. It held heat well.
"I-' he turned facing her, and she saw the blush on his cheeks, and the way he hesitated. She'd done that a million times with him. When her chest had clenched, or she'd been overcome by something he'd done. He coughed, beating his chest once. To clear his throat, of course. "I'll get you that towel." he marched himself back out the door. She was in a daze enough to think he'd seen something beautiful, but surely it was something else. A better explanation.
Right. Grease. She fished her emergency mirror from her suit's inner pocket, and looked at the damage.
She shouldn't have looked. Her mascara was destroyed, her eyeliner was smeared, and she had four good sized grease trails that would no doubt bring out zits. He hadn't frozen for any other reason but to adjust to the hideousness. She wouldn't blame him for it. But her heart fell onto a bed of ice-cold spikes. She stuffed the mirror back angry. And shook her head. She had screamed, broke a heel, fell on her ass and looked terrible. This day could go right into the forget pile.
But he'd carried her. That'd been a first. She groaned, running a hand through her hair, because bad hair couldn't make the day any worse. He'd carried her because she couldn't even manage that walk. The amount of embarrassment she could handle was capping out. She might have to change mechanics if she couldn't get her face to cool off.
When Franky did return, it was with two clean towels, and two steaming cups of hot chocolate.
"I always keep a supply in the shop, for moments like this." he explained, setting her cup down on the desk, close at hand. "And if you want." he pulled out a pair of thick socks from a pocket. "I promise they are clean." he looked sheepish. She finished setting the first towel under her, so she didn't soak the chair any further. Using the time to weigh the pros and cons.
Not that it was any debate. She could romanticize the first gift. Perhaps a coat on a windy night. That'd always been a favorite of hers. But she was practical. Her toes were cold.
It's just that there were other considerations.
"How thoughtful. Thank you really." she took them, drying her feet. They were long socks. And she should just roll up her damn pant legs. But she didn't. She tugged on the socks, doing her best to hide the skin as fast as she showed it. She felt like a fool, but maybe it'd pass for blushing virgin.
She shook her head with a silent laugh. The socks looked huge on her feet, and went up well onto her calf. Thankfully Franky had chicken legs, so they weren't too stretched out and didn't immediately fall back down. She grabbed the second towel, and set about wiping her face down. The grease smeared as much as it lifted. The towel coming away with black stains on their blue, that'd probably never go away. "You know these things, what gets the grease off?" She asked looking up, finding him politely staring out the window, but he looked back, smiled.
"A shower." he said. "No cleaner will do it aside from the magic shower time. Don't know why. But that's the spell."
"So i'm stuck like this for the rest of the day?"
"Don't fret it too much." He said, sitting on the edge of his desk. "You look good in grease."
Her chest filled, and she laughed before she had time to think. When she did she blushed, hard. Franky did too, and hid behind his mug. Poor guy. He was just trying to cheer her up. He didn't mean it like that. She took her own mug, hiding behind it as she sipped it. She was expecting the cheap stuff but it was rich, more on par with the holiday mix Sanji brought in closer to the holidays. Not the inexpensive chocolate she stocked for her team. She hummed appreciatively.
"Good right?" Franky said, less red now, and he set the empty mug down. She let hers rest in her lap, soaking it in for all the warmth it was worth.
"Baratie house special." she said out. "Delicious." his face faltered just a bit, then he cracked a smirk.
"You know your chocolates."
"I do, but this one is thanks to a co-worker who buys some for the office every year." His grin grew, and she sipped more coffee. The heat started to return to her legs.
"I don't think you've ever told me what line of work you are in."
"I'm the editor in chief at Sunny Publishing's romance division."
"Sunny publishing? It sounds familiar somehow."
"Does it?" She asked, brow raised. "We are the lead publisher for Queer led books." his smile faltered for a second and he gave her a quick once over. She kept her smile perfect. But she wanted to scream. He probably thought she was a lesbian now. And it'd be too awkward for her to correct him. She'd just blown this hadn't she?
"That's good." he settled on, fumbling for the empty mug. "Long overdue that community made it to the shelf." his smile was back again. Worse yet she couldn't detect any disappointment. Maybe that was better. If he really wasn't interested, and he thought she was a lesbian then perhaps it was time to give up. She'd made enough of a fool of herself already. She'd press the attack. Get something definitive, yet subtle. Some sign to close up shop, as it were.
"Indeed." she set the mug back on the desk, close to his legs, and leaned back unabashedly meeting his eyes. Choosing her words carefully. "Many of my coworkers find a personal passion in their work."
"The relatability?" he suggested. He was quick, smart. Traits she had pinned over in all of their little dances. "To make it to editor-in-chief I imagine you have quite the passion."
An offer. Not a question, no probing. But he had a quirked brow of his own now. His smile took on some hesitation. Or maybe she was overthinking it. Not the first time that'd been the case.
"Very much so, I believe everyone needs a story to read that they can relate to. And even if by broad stroke the work doesn't pertain to me, Love is the same, and so the work is the same." Well hadn't she just shoved that down his throat. Maybe she'd been a little bald there. She watched him close for a reaction. His smile eased, crow's feet at the edges of his eyes. Wasn't that a mark of happiness?
"That's wonderful." he said. "Really, you have a wonderful heart."
She felt giddy. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything. But the easy smile. The genuine complement. She'd salvage this at least. The day was still a loss. They'd been nice heels, and this suit hadn't been cheap. Franky looked out the tiny office window, which lined up with a window facing out the shop.
"The rain is still coming down hard." Then he looked back, at her feet, at her. "I could give you a lift back to the office, if you want to avoid an awkward uber."
"The shop doesn't close for a few more hours, I thought."
"Perks of owning it, i can shut down whenever i feel like it." he said out, "Plus, no one is coming through this to get their brakes checked." Robin bit her lip while Franky opened the door.
"Do you think you could stop me by my house? it's on the way, and well." she looked at her pants. "I need to change. I'm thoroughly soaked." No smile could hide the blush on his face then, as he held the door open. "Of course, yeah, sure." he stammered out.
"Thank you." she said, walking past him. Her foot slipped on the smooth floor, and he had her again.
"I forgot socks slip around, shit that was almost bad." he pulled her back up.
"It's fine." She laughed, because she had to do something with the sudden spike of adrenaline, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"I'll have to carry you again. That okay?" he asked.
Twice in one day… maybe lightning was lucky.
"By all means." she playfully lifted one leg.
He lifted her again. And she was unsure where to put her hands. She wanted to put them around his neck. Like in the movies. But she didn't think her heart could take it. And if she got any closer he would surely hear it pounding away.
But this was the second time she had gotten carried. On the same day no less. Undoubtedly her next chance at this was years off. She did it. Her hands very nearly shook as they snaked around his neck, resting there, her head now against him fully. If he noticed anything at all, he kept quiet. She relaxed a bit. It was the small mercies.