Not the owner, not making money, not looking for a suit.
-----
9. dash
And then, of course, there was the rest of the time.
He wasn't really sure quite what it was that had set her off, but it had sent him dashing off down the beach nonetheless, dodging the heavy debris she lobbed at him with surprising strength (he shouldn't have been surprised, really, considering how amazing she was, but she was also so delicate! Nami was a woman of many graces).
All he had done was offer a few suggestions about what they could do to relieve the ennui she'd verbalized so fervently, and for some strange reason, that had set her off.
He'd thought they were rather good ideas, personally, ones that he had given careful thought to over the last few days. They could start with a little bit of that, and then it would lead to a little bit of this, and then some more of that--
Unfortunately, it seemed that he could kiss his chances of any of this or that goodbye for at least the rest of the day.
He decided to cut his losses, at least for now, and got a safe distance away before stopping. Fortunately, one of the things she'd thrown at him (though her aim was so good it was very nearly severely unfortunate) was the fishing spear she'd made, his most precious possession on this island. If he came back with a big fish or three ready to roast on the fire and serve her, she would certainly forgive him any trespasses.
He stretched his legs before getting to work. At least he'd gotten a bit of good exercise.