Torn Shirts

There are three kinds of drunk, according to Zoro: drunk, piss drunk and wasted drunk. Right now, he is only drunk, which is fine, he guesses, since he is drinking alone. It's better to be merely drunk, he tells himself, just in case something happens. But nothing ever happens and he's just going to wake up some where odd again without knowing why he's there. As long as it wasn't in the kitchen sink again. Not a pleasant memory that.

He sloshed his drink around, taking another swig. Something stronger than this brew would be a welcome change of pace, he gets the idea that he's going to need a stronger drink soon. Very soon. He shakes his head, not quite sure where the last thought had come from. Tankard in hand, he stumbled out onto the deck, leaning against the rail.

"Ahem." Came from somewhere near his feet. Zoro jumped unsteadily, dropping his drink in the proccess. He stamps his heavy boot with annoyance. Somebody better sure as hell have a good reason for making him do that.

"AHEM." It came again. Zoro, in a moment of rage, kicked the tankard over the edge and into the water.

"If you are planning on drowning all the other dishes as well, I'll rip your earrings out." The voice snarled. He knew that threatening tone, he knew it very well. He peeped over the railing where the cook was caught in a very uncompromising situation. Zoro squinted in the dark as he picked out the loafters balancing precariously on a porthole and the hands clinging to the rim of the deck.

"Get me up!" He yelled. "I've been stuck like this for fifteen minutes and it isn't getting any drier!"

Zoro took Sanji's hand, pulling him up easily, unitl the latter's shrieks for him to stop made him nearly drop the cook straight into the water. Maybe he should have. Dartboard eyebrow could swim anyway. He looked over the edge where Sanji was frantically using his free hand to prize his shirt loose -- it was caught on a stray nail and it didn't seem to want to come loose.

"You're not getting any lighter." Zoro grunted. The cook glowered most evilly at him from his position.

"I happen to like this shirt."

"And I," Zoro said, "Happen to not give a shit." He wrenched his arm upwards, bringing Sanji with it. When he deposited the other man on the deck, he roared with laughter at the missing front section of the blue pin-stripes. He also got a shot straight to the head.

It was time to see to that stronger drink, he thought sourly, and he didn't give a damn if he woke up in the kitchen sink. In fact, if he did, maybe he could send the black silk tie down the disposal.

Note: No clue how Sanji wound up clinging to the side of the ship. But he did. Maybe he saw something shiny in the water. Either that or he dropped his cigarette. And the way he smokes 'em, I'd say it was probably an effort to save the cancer stick. shrugs