Opening author's note: Content warning for mentions of gore, possible brief body horror.

Given he's always been very much an extrovert, Luffy's never experienced any real difficulties with social anxiety before, but Amazon Lily is- as his absent boyfriend would no doubt bluntly put it- fucking overwhelming. The women of the island certainly seem nice enough, at least when they're not trying to kill him, but everybody wants to touch him, pinch him, stretch him and just generally manhandle him until he's ready to scream or climb a tree or maybe both. So many hands on him, but none of them are the RIGHT hands because none of them are ZORO'S hands.

The Kuja's fascination with his junk is understandable and even sort of funny at first, but the repeated requests for him to hand over his balls for inspection as though they're some sort of removable accessory like his hat or that neat armband thingy he'd claimed from the treasure haul back at Thriller Bark- well, it gets obnoxious very quickly. And while he doesn't mind their curiosity or their stares or their often blatant attempts to sneak a peek at his dick, which he'd been very amused to learn they'd initially mistaken for some kind of weird mushroom, he DOES mind them trying to touch him. He minds that A LOT.

He's not mad at Marguerite's friend, the big lady with the ponytails who supposedly tried to yank his penis right off his body when they were pulling the- political? paralyzed? p-something mushrooms off him. She hadn't realized it was actually part of him- or at least that's how he understands it, since he'd been unconscious at the time and learned about what happened after the fact- and he's willing to accept that the incident was nothing but a misunderstanding.

The women actively trying to grope him, however, are another story entirely, and he's seriously considered BITING the next hand aimed at his crotch. He doesn't care how many of them have never seen a man before or how badly they want to know what the parts between his legs do; he's never let anybody but his swordsman touch him there, never WANTED anybody but his swordsman touching him there. Besides, there's no way they're so stupid that they haven't drawn the obvious conclusion that junk is junk, no matter what it's shaped like, and that what's down there on him is personal territory just like whatever's down there on them. He hasn't seen them grabbing at each other either, so it's not like fondling people's privates is some bizarre Amazon Lily custom or something. No, they're just being really, really RUDE.

It makes him almost glad he can't smell Zoro on him anymore, as much as he desperately misses his boyfriend. If the lingering traces of their last afternoon together hadn't been discarded with his old clothing and scrubbed off his skin along with the invasive mushrooms, he'd probably be folding himself into a pretzel seeking comfort from it. Hell, he'd already caught himself sniffing tentatively at the weave of his hat and the red ribbon embellishing its dome to see if it held some odor capable of summoning the older pirate's presence to his side.

He'd initially been disheartened upon failing to find anything- but then it had dawned on him how his body would most likely respond to catching a whiff of his lover. Because the scent Zoro would've left traces of most recently- well, it would've carried heavy if not outright overpowering tones of energetic sex and exertion, masking his natural odors of steel and what Luffy's always thought smells kind of like crushed mint.

There might've been a thread of copper in there somewhere too, from his still-mending injuries, along with the sharp, medicinal bite of antiseptic, but the Straw Hat captain's aware the most intense odors would still be the ones screaming YOU 'N YOUR FIRST MATE HAD SEX IN SHAKKY'S STORAGE ROOM and ZORO WAS SO TIGHT 'N HOT 'N SLICK INSIDE and REMEMBER HOW HE BEGGED YOU TO FUCK HIM HARDER

His dick's already drawn entirely too much attention to itself simply by existing in a flaccid state. He most certainly DOES NOT want to deal with the sort of interest that an erection would inspire, should he be unlucky enough to have somebody catch him with one.

xxx

When Bon Kurei's mimicry breaks, revealing that Luffy HASN'T miraculously stumbled across his swordsman in the bowels of Impel Down, he's unprepared for how much it hurts to feel the blossoming joy and excitement and hope in his chest turn brittle and start to crumble, eroded by confusion and disappointment.

Initially, he wants so badly to have actually found Zoro, he's prepared to scramble upright and run to the green-haired figure, completely disregarding the sphinx towering over him in his desire to throw his arms around his boyfriend and never ever, EVER let him go again. But then Zoro launches a bizarre attack involving what unquestionably resembles a BALLET pose and is most definitely NOT a Zoro-variety battle tactic, and reality intercedes so rapidly, it leaves Luffy feeling slightly ill, almost as though his heart's plummeting straight down through his stomach towards his feet.

He's happy to see a friendly face, of course; he needs all the help he can get right now, tearing through this place in search of his brother. But the face, while welcome, isn't the right one anymore, and even as he greets Bon Kurei with genuine delight and affection, the renewed ache of Zoro's absence squeezes his chest and throat so painfully tight that he needs to force the words out.

You can be sad about it later, he tells himself sternly. After you find Ace 'n get outta here. And then for a long stretch of time, he's too busy struggling to simply stay alive to safely devote much conscious thought to his first mate or their crew.

xxx

Following the fight with Magellan, when his body's failing and he's fading in and out of consciousness, he's no longer capable of thinking anything at all after Iva's razor-sharp nails pierce his sides and slide between his ribs into his chest cavity. There's a fraction of a second when he wonders if this is how it felt for Zoro back at the Baratie, being impaled on Mihawk's knife blade with its tip sinking towards his heart- and then his mind is buckling under the agony ripping through every limb, every organ, every nerve, every cell, and he's straining against the chains binding him to the slab and screaming, and there's nothing but pain in the dark.

If he's at all aware of Bon Kurei leading the citizens of New Kama in a chant outside the chamber door several hours later, it's on a purely subconscious level. Between the wails of torment escaping his burning lungs and the thunder created by his dangerously accelerated pulse filling his ears, it's unlikely he's able to hear them, but it's possible their presence registers on a more primal level, because at some point he begins to hallucinate that he's no longer alone.

His swordsman wanders out of the shadows to lean over him, mouth working incomprehensibly, hands hovering above his writhing form. Coming maddeningly close to touching him but never quite making actual contact with his sweaty, blood-streaked skin, no matter how violently he fights to rise. In desperation, he tries to call Zoro's name, beg him for help- plead with him to do something to make the pain go away or at least just HOLD HIM while he suffers through this or until he dies or whatever's going to happen to him happens- but the only sounds that emerge from his cramping lungs are half-strangled shrieks.

And then, although the older pirate remains frustratingly out of reach, his eyes lock with Luffy's and the movements of his lips begin to coalesce into individual words. You got this, Sencho. You can do it- you can beat this shit. His hands stroke the empty air above the rubber man's thrashing body. You're going to live so you can get your brother out of here. So you can come back to your crew- to us. And so you can come back to ME, because I need you, Luffy. Because I love you.

The breath catches in Luffy's throat and, despite the excruciating pain continuing to wrack his frame, he falls still. The most recent cry to burst from his cracked lips dwindles, fading into a long, guttural moan that wavers with uncertainty and fatigue before dying away completely.

You're running out of time, Zoro warns him silently. You can't afford to wait two more days, no matter what that purple-haired guy said. His right hand pauses over Luffy's chest, fingers splayed wide just above his damaged flesh. You need to end this, NOW. And with this declaration, the hand plunges into his chest, passing directly through bone and muscle to grasp his laboring heart and deliver a firm SQUEEZE.

Mouth agape in shock, the Straw Hat captain arches, spine bowing until his back's barely in contact with the table beneath him. The length of chain across his midsection and the two criss-crossing his torso rattle ominously, producing scraping noises as they shift where they've been secured to the stone slab. Clanking. Creaking. Until all at once, there's a chorus of sharp snaps as several links rupture under the strain and the broken segments whip away in opposite directions.

He feels his stuttering heart give a forceful THUMP and then begin to pound hard and fast within his ribcage, its rhythm growing steadier with every beat, and while everything from the top of his head to the tips of his toes still hurts, the discomfort is slowly becoming more manageable.

Luffy flexes one desiccated forearm experimentally against the loop of chain still binding it- and winces as his movements stretch and tear tissue partially dissolved by Magellan's sludge. The sensation's incredibly unpleasant, but less so than when he'd felt his flesh being actively eaten away; whatever hormones Iva injected into his body earlier have done exactly as promised, stimulating his immune system into working overtime to neutralize the toxins.

The treatment hasn't, however, done much of anything to heal the damage already done. And he's in seriously ROUGH shape.

Only for now, Zoro's voice breathes somewhere inside his head. C'mon, Sencho- you know EXACTLY how to handle this shit from here. His swordsman's tone is gentle but also reassuringly firm, encouraging him to stay calm. I'VE always slept off my injuries, but we both know that's never been YOUR thing…

Luffy's eyes widen in dawning realization.

Moments later, the chain around his right arm shatters, the stone table under it cracking as first his hand and then his forearm balloon outwards. It hurts like hell - his skin splits in multiple places under the pressure, splashing enormous gouts of gore in all directions - but he ignores the pain, hauls off, and SLAMS his oversized fist into the metal door blocking his exit, his movements dislodging the rest of the chains and freeing his remaining limbs when the table continues crumbling beneath him.

Unable to maintain Gear Third any longer and as yet unable to stand, he's reduced to crawling on torn hands and knees through an ever-spreading lake of his own blood, but although he's trembling uncontrollably and reopening more wounds, he refuses to stop.

He knows exactly what he needs to recover, to reach Ace's side and break him out of this place. To make it back to his crew and the first mate he loves. And it's those thoughts of being reunited with everyone that prompt him to drag himself partially upright when he reaches the door and to begin striking it again and again with a bloodied fist that's regained its normal size, hoping to alert someone on the other side.

But when- upon hearing the murmur of raised voices- he allows his exhausted body to sag backwards into a sitting position on the cool stones at the door's foot, it's Zoro's face in particular that swims to the forefront. The mouth Luffy's kissed so many times fixed in a broad smile. Eyes blazing with absolute trust and affection and unwavering confidence that he'll make it through this and any other challenges thrown his way, that he'll do whatever it takes until one day they're face-to-face again. Standing side-by-side against rival pirates, the Marines, the World Government, and anybody else foolish enough to threaten who and what they hold dear.

Taking a deep breath, Luffy raises his chin, and- dismissing the raw state of his throat- shouts in a voice gone hoarse from excessive use for the thing he needs to stay alive, that will ensure he and Zoro find their way back into each other's arms.

XXX XXX XXX

Draped across a velvet-cushioned chair with one boot heel resting on the floor and the opposite leg hooked over the arm closest to it, Zoro exhales heavily through his nose and flicks to the next page of the book balanced on his thigh. His gaze trails through the lines of text but when he reaches the end of the paragraph, he realizes his brain hasn't registered more than a handful of words and he has no idea what he's just read.

He allows the cover of the tome - some dry volume regarding philosophy and warfare, which seems to be the only sort of shit lining the shelves of Mihawk's personal library - to flop shut, sighing heavily and resisting the sudden urge to hurl the damn thing across the room. Tossing it onto the nearby side table instead, he closes his eyes and allows his head to fall backwards against the plush surface of the chair's backrest.

His mentor's given him the afternoon off. A rare reprieve from training that he'd initially welcomed because he could swear his bruises have bruises and he's never felt so exhausted in his life, but one that he'd quickly begun to regret after it occurred to him that there's more shit he CAN'T spend this unexpected free time doing than shit he CAN. Because not only does this bigass, empty castle lack a gym but there's also absolutely nothing in the way of entertainment and nobody to talk to- save the ghost girl and Mihawk himself, neither of whom are particularly easy to strike up a decent conversation with- and now on top of everything else, he's not allowed to drink either.

Zoro knows there's a cache of wine stashed away SOMEWHERE within these walls. Mihawk evidently decided he's personally exempt from his own infuriating new rule, because he hasn't abandoned his routine of having a glass of red with dinner and sometimes while he's reading the news. And although the Straw Hat's first mate prefers his liquor hard… well, alcohol is alcohol, and he's always been more than willing to overlook taste in favor of effect. Besides, the high-quality stuff Mihawk stocks is downright tasty compared to some of the absolutely horrendous cheap shit he used to drink with Johnny and Yosaku between bounties.

He's not stupid enough to risk his unlikely benefactor's wrath by flouting his instructions, however, so he hasn't bothered making a serious search for the wine cellar, if there is one. Because even if he does successfully locate such a room, manages to smuggle a bottle or two back to his room AND exercises enough self-control to avoid getting drunk, there's no guarantee he won't still get caught; knowing his luck, Mihawk will smell the alcohol on his breath or in his sweat or something. 'Hawkeyes' isn't just a reference to the man's piercing golden irises; he possesses almost preternatural senses- and he's made it quite clear that he won't tolerate disobedience.

Once, Zoro might've been tempted to test the warlord, excited by the prospect of goading him into losing his temper. Hoping to find himself bent over Mihawk's knee, having his ass slapped into cherry-red brilliance for his impertinence until he's moaning and writhing and bucking his hips, begging the older man to fuck him senseless. Or simply being told that his continued room and board and tutelage depends on his willingness to make his hole or mouth- or better yet, both- available on demand. It's fairly easy for him to imagine Mihawk dropping elegantly-worded yet risque quips about honing his pupil's sword-handling skills.

Following Zoro's confession to his captain regarding his desire for the master swordsman's dick, together they'd fantasized on more than one occasion about how that thirst might be quenched, but these exchanges had been little more than fuel for their own enthusiastic coupling. He can't speak for Luffy, of course, but Zoro had assumed that the odds of the scenarios they'd shared happening in real life were highly unlikely if not outright impossible. Because while he'd seen genuine interest of SOME variety surfacing on Mihawk's face as their duel progressed, following that final blow, he'd been in entirely too much pain to interpret the essence of that interest as sexual or professional or some combination of the two. And even if he hadn't been severely injured, pursuit of Nami and their stolen ship had meant parting ways without learning where Mihawk intended to go next.

So in the end, he'd known only one thing for certain: there was neither time nor opportunity to find out if this particular itch might be scratched, because given Mihawk's predilection for restless wandering, the odds of encountering him again anytime soon- and in a setting conducive to extending a wary proposition- hadn't been very good. Never in a million years would he have guessed he'd find himself not only training under the master swordsman but also LIVING with the guy… sleeping under his roof, eating his food and- at least until recently- drinking his booze.

Ironically enough, despite all the time they've now spent together, Zoro's still unsure which way Mihawk swings sexually, if any way at all. He's never met anyone so rigidly formal and so stubbornly tight-lipped about their personal life, and he hasn't decided if Mihawk just exercises the same iron-clad, unwavering control over his libido that he maintains on everything else or if he's asexual or demi-sexual or some other less familiar orientation. But whatever he might be, since Mihawk agreed to train him, Zoro's discovered he honestly doesn't care anymore.

These days he's a lot less concerned with finding a way into his unlikely benefactor's bed than he's concerned with the idea that Mihawk might grow bored with this entire mentorship ordeal and throw him out of the castle- or off the island entirely. Flinging himself at Mihawk's dick seems like an excellent way to annoy the man if he's not receptive to sexual advances, an additional risk he's not willing to take. And in the event Mihawk did welcome his overtures-

Zoro's determined to learn everything he possibly can during his time here. He doesn't know what will prove useful in the New World, and the thought of failing to master a technique or acquire some crucial bit of knowledge because he was too preoccupied with begging for his instructor's cock to satisfy him in another round of ass-pounding is- absolutely not acceptable. He won't allow his base urges to distract him from acquiring skills that might prove essential to protecting the crew. To protecting his captain.

And finally, although monogamy's never been a condition of their relationship, the idea of hopping into the sack with somebody else when Luffy's not there to participate, or at least watch him getting boned- well, it honestly just doesn't hold much appeal. Because it's Luffy he wants first and foremost. Additional partners are merely a bonus; unnecessary but unquestionably a lot of fun whenever available, and Zoro and his captain have made an erotic game of speculating on friends and allies to whom they might extend an invitation to join them. Hell, they'd exchanged words about Zoro's interest in Trafalgar Law shortly before shit went down on Sabaody, and Luffy's eyes had lit up with anticipation and no small degree of mischief.

He asked if he should try'n get 'that tattooed doctor-guy with the big sword' for me- Zoro recalls and can't prevent his mouth curling into a smirk at his memory of the way Luffy had leered like an idiot and waggled his eyebrows, as though convinced he might not catch the implied innuendo otherwise. -'n when I wanted to know if he really meant it or he was just screwin' around with me, he said he thought it 'might be fun to share Zoro's ass with another captain sometimes, as long as nobody forgets he's MINE 'n that he always comes home with ME when we're done'...

Following which Luffy had admitted- face flushing increasingly darker as he spoke in a low, barely audible mumble- that he just MIGHT have a lurid fantasy or two about getting Zoro as sloppy seconds after somebody else fucked him raw and finished inside him… specifically so he could take his first mate over and over and over, filling his well-plundered passage with innumerable climaxes until he'd successfully flooded out all the other cum, obliterating every last trace of it with his own seed. "Because I'M Zoro's captain," he'd concluded, "-so Zoro belongs to ME, 'n THAT means MY jizz is the ONLY jizz he's allowed to keep inside 'im."

Zoro finds his smirk widening into a grin despite the pangs of longing that stab through his chest- and okay, yes, through his groin too, in aching pulses of frustrated desire- whenever he thinks about his boyfriend. Sencho, you goddamn perver-

"What's so funny?"

Perona's sudden appearance beside the arm of Zoro's chair sends him flailing upright, booted feet kicking wildly enough to make her dodge back with a squeak of dismay.

Heart hammering, he glares up at the pink-haired ghost woman. "Goddamn it, I TOLD you to quit sneaking up on me like that! One of these times you're gonna-"

"-get gutted," Perona finishes in unison, with a dismissive roll of her eyes. "I don't see how, when your swords are over there," she huffs, gesturing to where his sheathed katana are resting in the corner of the room, leaning against the side of a bookcase. "Although for a moment there, I thought you were set on trying to stomp me to death instead."

"Like you'd be worth the effort," Zoro fires back, although there's no real heat behind the taunt. Any true antagonism between them's long since lapsed; given the genuine effort she's put into improving on those initial bumbling attempts as his nursemaid, he's stopped viewing her as an enemy and started viewing her more like an obnoxious kid sister. Which makes no goddamn sense because he's learned that she's OLDER than him. "What're you in here for anyway?" he demands as he slouches down again. "I was tryna read."

"If you say so…" Perona sniffs, casting a dubious look at the book laying abandoned on the table beside him. She stares at him for a moment, scowling, and then, without warning, flings herself into his lap and throws her arms around his neck. "Zorooo, I'm BORED."

Accustomed to such treatment- which is annoying yet far preferable to some of the other shit she's done, like painting his nails when he's unconscious- the swordsman furrows his brow in irritation but doesn't react otherwise as she makes herself comfortable. "I'm not here to entertain you- 'n I'm not your goddamn body pillow either. Get off me."

"You make such a good one, though." She pokes a fingertip at his chest, dimpling one of his pectorals through the fabric of his shirt. "And I bet your boobs make REALLY good pillows. I'm pretty sure they're bigger than mine, and as long as you're not doing all that so-not-cute flexing stuff, they're super squi-"

"I swear to god, woman- if you try'n honk my fuckin' tits, I'm dumpin' your ass right on the damn floor," Zoro warns her in a low growl, batting her hand away. "You want somethin' to squish, go squish one of your bloody ghosts."

"They're GHOSTS. Just because they happen to be extremely cute- way cuter than you-" Perona reminds him with a tap on the nose. "-doesn't make them solid enough to cuddle." She bats her eyelashes, large eyes pleading. "C'mon, Zoro- come play with me?"

"No thanks. 'N seriously, how the hell can you possibly be twenty-four when y-"

"Fine." Narrowing her eyes in concentration, the Akuma no Mi user lounging atop him shimmers as her astral body slips particularly free of her physical one, raising a spectral hand that cups the side of his face and melts halfway into it- and suddenly it's not just Perona he's glaring down at, it's also Luffy. "Does Zoro wanna play with ME instead?"

The illusion's far from perfect- Perona hasn't been pushing the boundaries of her powers long enough to manifest a projection of something other than her own form that doesn't jump and flicker and fade in and out- but Zoro's so thoroughly caught off-guard that he can't move, frozen in place save for one hand curling into a fist around an ominously creaking chair arm. That and-

They both explode into motion at the same time, Perona scrambling to vacate the swordsman's abruptly not-so-comfortable lap with a high-pitched shriek of dismay and outrage as he simultaneously springs out of his seat while shoving her away, a torrent of curses spilling from his lips.

"WHAT THE FUCK, PERONA?"

"NOT CUTE, SOOO NOT CUTE!"

"WHAT THE HELL'D YOU EXPECT?" He debates dodging behind the chair to hide the erection tenting his trousers but decides to stand his ground instead. If she's that disturbed by his dick getting hard, maybe she'll go away and leave him alone. "I TOLD YOU TO GET OFF ME!"

"I WOULD'VE-" Perona wails back at him. "-IF I'D KNOWN YOU'D TURN OUT TO BE GROSS AFTER ALL! Ooohhh, this is why I like GIRLS so much better! Men can be so disgusting! UGH!" She's pacing back and forth across the carpet, wiping her palms repeatedly against the skirt of her dress as though they've come in contact with something incredibly filthy. "Y-You never did anything like this before though, so why-" Eyes widening, she stumbles to a halt and whirls to stare at him, gloss-coated lips forming an "o" of surprise. "No. NOOO-"

Zoro crosses his arms.

"Your CAPTAIN?"

"Luffy's my captain, yeah, but he's also my boyfriend." He sees some of the tension drain out of her at his words.

"So that-" Perona flaps an accusatory hand in the general direction of his groin and the offending protrusion that continues to jut from it. "That's only because you want HIM? Or- wait, are you bi too?"

"Nope. All gay, all day," Zoro assures her dryly. "Very, very homo and very happy with my captain's cock, thanks."

She studies him suspiciously for a moment or two longer and then relaxes, evidently satisfied that he's telling the truth. "So it really was just from the illusion then, and you're not going to get all weird and creepy on me?"

"I think we're good, yeah- so long as you don't crawl all over me, messin' with my tits 'n bouncin' around on my junk while you wear my boyfriend's face…"

To her credit, Perona flushes with obvious chagrin and embarrassment. "S-Sorry… I swear, I wasn't trying to-" She takes a deep breath. Her hands are clasped beneath her breasts, fingers twisting and fidgeting. "I mean, I'm used to guys being all- y'know- pushy and- they're always trying to flirt with me, but then you weren't like that, and- and-"

Ah. "I think I get it. You felt safe."

"EXACTLY," Perona sighs. Shoulders slumping in relief, she wanders back across the room to flop into the chair they'd both vacated only a minute or so before, hooking her skirt-draped legs over its arm and crossing them at the ankles. "So… your captain, hmm?" Her gaze darts up to search his face. "He's the guy who stretches. Does that mean-?"

"Yep. His dick stretches too, right along with the rest of 'im." Grinning, Zoro moves behind the chair, resting his arms on its back so he can lean forward to gaze down at his housemate, who's looking back with an expression of bemused and surprisingly keen interest and gesturing animatedly for him to continue. "Y'know, I asked Luffy the same damn question, the day we first met? Wasn't too long after that, I got a hands-on demonstration, 'n damn… some of the shit he's done with it since-" He sucks his lower lip between his teeth.

Hands clasped to her mouth, Perona's giggling helplessly despite her attempts to muffle the sound with her fingers. "Has- has he ever- t-tied it in a- in a little b-bow- for you?"

"Okay, first off- Sencho's not-" He can feel his face growing hot, although he's struggling not to laugh as well. "There's NOTHING little about his dick. Even WITHOUT the whole stretchy rubber thing, he's like-" Making a vague indication of size using spread palms.

"NO-"

"Yeah. To look at him, you wouldn't have a clue since he's all lean muscle- but… he's fuckin' PACKING in those shorts. My ass can testify to that. 'N secondly, it wasn't a bow. He tied his cock into a goddamn KNOT 'n-" Realizing he's traversing questionable territory discussing the graphic details of his boyfriend's unique anatomy, Zoro breaks off, eyeing her. "Oi… you- uh- you sure you really wanna hear all this?" Revealing too much personal information isn't the issue here. He's well aware Luffy wouldn't give a shit- would, in fact, probably find the entire conversation hilarious- but he's not sure how squeamish his audience is, and… if he's being honest with himself, she's decent enough company that he'd prefer to avoid being a complete douche.

Perona shrugs. "I told you- I'm bored, and this is interesting and funny and- mmm, maybe a little sweet too, in a really weird way?" She hesitates to study his frown of confusion, clearly contemplating how to explain what she means. "Like, I guess I've always thought of sex as super serious- and also sort of gross, to be honest- but as soon as you started talking about your captain… well, I don't think I've EVER seen you smile that wide before."

The swordsman opens his mouth to respond with something snarky- but he's rendered speechless when his breath catches in his throat at the simple truth behind her words. That Luffy- that just the thought of him- He makes me happy. He makes me happier than anything else I can think of, and oh god, I-

"Zoro? Are you okay?" Perona asks, sitting up a bit straighter and raising one hand towards him, stopping just shy of touching his elbow as though she's unsure if he'll welcome the contact or slap her extended fingers away. "What's wrong?

Sighing, Zoro slouches forward to settle his chin on his crossed forearms. "I just- I miss him. Not just the sex- I miss HIM. I miss him 'n I'm- I'm really worried about him…" He's been forcing himself not to dwell on the events reported to have occurred at Marineford, because his inability to comfort Luffy burns like bitter bile rising to the back of his throat every time his mind flashes back to the newspaper photo. Recalling that devastating image of the man who's become so important- possibly THE most important person in his life- standing with his head bowed and eyes closed and his ever-present straw hat clasped to his chest. Heavily wreathed in bandages, his face solemn with tragic loss.

Sencho… Sencho, I'm so, so sorry. Zoro squeezes his own eyes shut to hold back the tears he can feel threatening to spring free at the thought of the heartache Luffy's surely suffering, hoping he's not going to start crying for his captain in front of Perona. Hoping that, if he does, she's not going to laugh at him.

But she doesn't laugh. Instead, "... you love him, don't you…" she says softly, and it's not a question.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Her fingertips creep across the soft padding of the chair's back as she finally closes the distance between them, slipping her hand into his and giving a small, reassuring squeeze. "So then tell me. Tell me all about the two of you. Tell me what you love about him and everything you want to say and do- everything you're GOING to say and do when you see him again."

Closing author's note: I took some liberties with Perona's ability in this chapter as canonically she's only been shown to manifest illusions of herself, but I was intrigued by the idea that she might be inspired by Zoro's dedication to his training- not to mention bored out of her mind- enough to attempt expanding her powers.