Not the owner, not making money, not looking for a suit.
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15. perfect blue
Most of their days went like this: some time was alloted for the gathering of foodstuffs, some time spent preparing it, and some time eating. They devoted some time everyday to making sure the fire was as big as it could be. They would also walk around the small island at least once a day, just to be sure. As much of the remainder of the time as possible was spent sleeping.
Anything left over, though, was usually spent staring.
Sure, they would converse, but they always ran out of things to say, at least temporarily, and would lapse into silence. With the silence, inevitably, came the staring.
That was the usual picture: Nami sitting to the left of the fire, Sanji on the right, both staring out across the ocean, as if the gentle ebb and flow of the tide as it eternally came up to kiss the shore before parting again was absolutely the most fascinating thing either of them had ever seen.
Still, both of them knew there was something magical about the ocean. Both of their passions lay there--in an age of piracy like this one, most men's passions, admittedly, lay at sea, but they still considered themselves different. In truth, neither of them could imagine themselves confined to land forever. It was too static, and they were the type that needed to be constantly in motion.
No, even though it could be ornery, unpredictable, and deadly, neither of them could imagine living their lives anywhere else. There was something about its fickle blue depths that was just so undeniably... perfect.