"Ow."
Ace's back is stiff and his neck hurts. As good as his Devil Fruit is, and the lack of pain that evolves from being untouchable flames, it still doesn't stop him from sleeping in awkward positions that have him aching in the shoulder blades.
"...Hey, Ace."
"G'mrn'ng, Quinn."
Is it a good morning? He can't remember but Quinn doesn't say anything to contradict him so he assumes it is. His memories are a bit vague, they sometimes are when a sleeping spell hits, and he's lucky that his fruit keeps him from breaking anything whenever it causes him to collapse.
He rubbed his eyes.
"Wha' happened?"
Oh, wow. His words are absolutely coming out slurred.
"You nearly fell off the cape." Comes Quinn's stiff, upset reply. Ow, so not a good morning then. He holds in a wince. "Kat caught you before you fell all the way down but it was a close one. He almost missed seeing you fall at all."
He nods.
Ah, that figures.
It also helps to explain the tense, dark look that she's currently pinning him with.
"...sorry."
Is he sorry? He doesn't think so. Not really. Oh, maybe for the trouble that it causes them, but not sorry for not caring that he'd been about to die- just like that- for no reason at all- Ace is tired and doesn't care. Apathy running through his veins like a poison.
The excitement from before had been dulled due to the circumstances.
Quinn huffs.
"...I got you something."
He startles.
"From a previous island," she's careful not to mention which, "and, as your crewmate, but also as your friend, I'm requiring that you accept it."
"...Huh?"
He's pretty sure that's not how gifts work but Quinn just rolls her eyes and raises up a pair of those red and white bracelets she had on her arm. Okay. That's… a weird thing to preface with the seriousness that she did.
"...accessories?"
"Emergency Inflatables."
That makes more sense.
Ace sits up.
"There's a switch on the inside. It's a one time use so don't hit it now-" She just narrowly stops him from using it and he looks up at her, not unlike a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "-but it should save you if Kat or Spice or, hell, even me, can't get to you in time. Think of it as a fail-safe."
She's worrying her lip so all he can really do is accept a couple of the bracelets and slide them on, they feel cold to the touch and rubbery, but he supposes he can get used to them.
Quinn seems to slump in relief.
Ace scratches the back of his head, "Did you guys get anything more done on the ship while I was out?"
"Yeah but…"
She trails off and he can see the dreary set to her eyes as she glances back behind them and Ace snorts.
"...we're really not good at it. It won't survive the trip to even the first island with a weak hull. The crazy weather- it's the worst in the beginning and-"
She droops.
"I'm sorry. I should've known about La- the whale. I should've said something- this is my fault. And now we're stuck with a damaged ship again and…"
Ace frowns. "No, it's not. How could you have possibly known?" He doesn't miss the way Quinn flinches and he's careful to keep his eyes from narrowing. He's not suspicious of her, hadn't been, but something like it begins to curl in his gut, completely unbidden, as she ducks her head and looks away. "The Stellar is a good ship. She'll carry us- don't worry!"
He's tired- he's groggy- so it's missing the usual chipperness that he tries to shove into his voice, the bright and hopeful and determined notes that always had Kat and Spice puffing up- but there's confidence there; a promise. And it's more than enough for Quinn and he sighs in relief at that because he really is just completely wiped out by both his narcolepsy and the destruction of part of their ship. Not having to force himself, or pretend, is a reprieve that Quinn always seems to grant him.
Honestly, he thinks she prefers it.
"Still- I'm supposed to know about the Grand Line… I can't even do that right."
Ace really does scowl this time. Not at her so much as her words because- what? This was a freak accident. And she was acting like she should've known that it was going to happen, known about the massive whale that their ship had plowed into before it went diving back down to create quakes from smashing it's head against the mountain, and should've been aware that it was even a possibility, should've been able to control wild animals- "You think too much. You can't account for everything." There was no way she could've known. "Besides things like this happen all the time. We just gotta push through it all!"
Quinn falters, "You're… way too positive, Ace." He doesn't know about that. "But you're right. Still- this sucks. And we were so excited about finally making it to the Grand Line too…"
Ace nods.
The truth is that this just hammers home how unprepared they are but- ah- what can you do? The sea was unforgiving and apparently whales even more so.
The Stellar had been knocked astray by Laboon's interference, the bottom front of the ship nearly caved in beneath the force of ramming into him at the same time he'd come up for air. It could've been worse- way, way worse, because it wasn't as if the damage was irreparable but… other than Ace, who was self-taught and mediocre at best, none of them had carpentry skills.
Well, Kat apparently knew a surprising amount about making your own irrigation system but that was neither helpful nor currently relevant.
Four days.
They'd been stuck at the Twin Capes for four days.
There wasn't even any Crocus in sight which Quinn took to mean that he was currently living it up in Laboon's digestive system.
"...Hey, Quinn?"
"Yeah Ace?"
"...Falling in the water fucking sucks."
"Kehaha. It sure does."
...
...
A kick to the stomach, at just the wrong angle, and Quinn falls to her knees, her hand clasping over her mouth and-
She scrambles to the edge of the cape and vomits into the water down below. Oh, great. There goes her breakfast.
"Quinn!"
Ace grimaces as Kat rushes to help hold her hair back. That- He definitely hadn't meant to hit her that hard. And not directly in the stomach either. "Sorry! That's my bad, Quinn."
She flips him off over her shoulder.
...That's fair.
Honestly, as little as Quinn was learning from their spars- as Ace was just wiping the floor with her ass and she didn't really get the chance to try anything out before he overpowered her- Ace was definitely getting a fine grasp of control over his strength-output levels. With Luffy, he had never had to dial it back, his brother was rubber and therefore near indestructible to most of what he did and it wasn't like he was bringing a knife into a fight with him or actually intent on hurting him, so it was rough trying to figure out a good amount of force behind his punches that wouldn't… cripple a normal human being.
He'd thought he'd had it too.
Kat had taken a similar hit no problem and so had Spice, hell, even a good three-fold more and he was sure they would've been fine.
Quinn though… Quinn was different.
He wanted to say that it was because she just didn't have the same tolerance but, if anything, she was tough as nails compared to them.
That wasn't to say they were weak, no way- Ace's crewmates were strong as hell and could take it just as well! But, and Ace only notices this because he's had years and years of hunting and robbing and hurting all sorts of people, it was almost like the damage he was dealing was doing twice as much to her- twice as much harm, twice as much pain, all for only a quarter of what he could put out.
Ace was a little surprised that he hadn't heard something crack yet.
"I must not be controllin' my own strength well enough just yet." He huffs, fixing his hat back on his head as Quinn pushes off the ground, wiping her face on her sleeve, and stumbles back over to continue. Looking more than a little peeved and disgruntled and visibly biting her tongue to keep from complaining… or cursing him out. There was that too. "Want to try your way?" He offers, politely.
"Yes, Ace. I would…" She shoots him a glare. "Prefer if I was taught without being beaten to a pulp. As you insist on doing."
"Well, how else will I know what you've improved on?"
"Oh? And what have I gotten better at, huh?"
"I don't know what it's called. But that thing-" He snaps his fingers, trying to figure out how to say it. "You know, the one where you dodge and then, like, push the outside of my arm to redirect my punch? You're good at that!"
Her eyebrow twitches.
"I'm good at… dodging and shoving you. In that order."
"If you follow it up with something, it'd be cool?" He tries. "It really does kinda throw me off. Makes me have to start over from the top 'cause it's hard to go off of a redirected punch like that. Throws off my footing a bit too!"
Quinn's head tilts thoughtfully at that.
"Guerilla tactics… got it. That might- just work as a style actually."
"I don't know about that but you said you wanted to work on getting out of chokeholds last time, right?"
"Yeah. After the one you put me in."
It's with a careful arm that he wraps himself around her neck, without any force as Quinn mumbled to herself and tried to remember the actual process of breaking a chokehold. Slightly unaware of the fact that Ace was listening intently himself and committing the knowledge to memory to use himself when it was his turn to escape one. They walk through it twice before Quinn gives him a thumbs up to try it for real.
She fails the first time. Double-tapping his arm for release before they try again and she just barely manages to throw him off.
Her shout of, "Again!" Is intense and he can't help but grin a little at the raw determination in her eyes.
"How long have they been going?"
Kat nearly jumps out of his skin as Spice saddles up next to him.
"Oh, uh… not very long. Maybe twenty minutes?"
"Hm."
Kat's own training involved more meditation and getting his water-based abilities down until they were more second nature than anything else, so he was often able to watch Ace and Quinn go at it, hands spinning ribbons of water around the blades of his claws and tearing torrents into whatever rock he decided to flick it into. Admittedly, it was kinda hard to watch- not for lack of multitasking but because his instincts were yelling at him to jump up to protect Ace every time Quinn went for a hit and screaming at him whenever Quinn took a hit. Every time they sparred, trained, whatever they decided to call it, Kat's face went on a journey.
A journey of winces, grimaces, and fighting to not cover his eyes but a journey nonetheless.
Speaking of, Kat has to look away as Quinn starts coughing over a failed escape. Her hands had fumbled at the last second and it'd caused Ace's arm to come snapping back up to slam against her throat. That looked like it'd hurt.
"Hey, is that a new sword?"
And, in doing so, he spots the sheathed blade in Spice's hands. It looks much too small for him. The hilt itself was just barely larger than the palm of his hand.
"...Or a knife, in your case?"
"If I used knives, mine would not be nearly so puny or pitiful." Spice snorts. "It's for Quinn. Because the butter knife she's been using so far may be good enough for the East Blue but the Grand Line is most certainly going to be harsher."
Kat's first thought is: Oh, that's so nice of you! Then, his next thought is: wow, that's awfully presumptuous. "You do know she's originally from the Grand Line, right? The City That Never Sleeps, remember?" He'd been there for her talking about it and everything.
Quinn had looked so very sad as she had talked about it. It honestly made Kat wonder if something had happened to her island and that's why she'd ended up in the East Blue.
"And lived there- here now, I guess- for even longer than I did? I think she knows what we're getting into."
Spice's lips purse.
"Maybe in terms of content. But in experience? Doubtful."
Spice's gaze flickers to him and he lets out a sigh: "Don't look at me like that. I simply don't have rose-tinted goggles on like you seem to." Kat splutters. "It's not an insult. Not against you or her- but you'd be stupid to not notice that Quinn is clearly-"
There's a yelp as Quinn is thrown over Ace's back, yanked on by her good arm, until she was flung into the dirt in front of him, forcibly flipped completely over him. Yeah, attempting a chokehold on Ace would do that to you.
"-not a fighter. Not an experienced one at least."
Kat flicks a wave of water into the ground, letting it score the earth with a deep slash. "That's what training is for."
"Exactly."
Wait.
He blinks.
Looks up at Spice, "You're going to train Quinn?!"
"Why is that so surprising?"
"I thought you hated her! You- You're always making fun of her and everything."
"...Those are jokes."
Kat gapes. "Mean jokes!"
Spice lets out a little huff that might be a laugh. Kat squints at him, struggling to figure it out. "I'm sure you'll understand when you're older."
"Wha- Oh, don't pull that shit on me!"
Kat doesn't get much more time to throw in any of his two-cents because Spice is already busy stalking off towards Ace and Quinn after Kat's indignant cry. A hand raised to stall the two from continuing their little display and the other lazily fiddling with the hilt of the tanto he had loosely hung from his belt. He would never understand how most swordsmen could stand to have their swords at their hips, it felt so… lopsided and strange. He much preferred his sword on his back. "Oy, the cook is interrupting." He called over blandly. "Take five, Ace. Better yet, take ten. We're going to be awhile."
Quinn- poor, innocent, naïve Quinn- simply looked up at him in confusion and not the fear she should. "What is it?"
"Got you a present." He paused, then added: "You probably aren't going to like it."
He's filling her with confidence here.
Quinn, rubbing her bruised neck, eyes him with suspicion, "And… it has something to do with training." She glances down. "And that sword in your hand, I'm guessing."
"Oh, wow. Figure that out yourself?"
"Hardy har har."
"Ta-da. Yours now." There isn't much fanfare in Spice's motions as he drops the sword into her hands and all she can really do is… just blink at it, the thanks she gives is quiet and absentminded. "Congratulations, you have a sword that you don't know how to use." Yes, very useful. "Now, would you like to learn?"
She can't help the snicker.
It's without humor but it still falls from her lips.
"Tch. Like you're giving me a choice," eyes almost gleaming with interest as she meets his gaze, "fine, where do we start?"
...
...
Spice's sword lessons are… in a word, brutal.
In a way that Quinn still prefers over sparring with Ace but still.
It's not even for difficulty, though Quinn finds her fingers fumbling on her tiny-swords hilt and her arms shaking from the unexpected weight that came from holding up an object of any weight, really, for hours, hours, and hours. The hardest part about them- ignoring Spice's interjections- is how repetitive and boring they are.
It doesn't help that Spice has managed to find a pointy stick to hit her with.
"See? Look at that, I barely met your blade and you nearly dropped it." He scoffs at her, unimpressed. Quinn tries not to make a face. "You need a more firm stance and… yes, finally, maybe you'll actually be able to take a hit this time."
So far it involved a lot of practiced stances while trying to hold her blade firm and Spice smacking her with his new favorite stick to poke holes in her form.
"This is pathetic. Try again."
Her brow twitched.
"Even worse."
He's just helping. He's just helping.
He jabs her in the hand with the stick and she closes her eyes, face struggling to stay neutral as her eyebrows steadily fall more and more downward. Expression pinching.
"Are you even trying?"
He's just helping-
The stick stabbed into the back of her knee.
"Kh-!"
There's a clash of metal on metal.
Spice smirks, "Oh, finally. I was wondering how long it would take to piss you off."
Quinn twitches. Teeth gritting through an angry smile, "More annoyed. If I was actually pissed off I wouldn't be using the back of the blade." She has enough sense to turn the sword so it wouldn't actually have harmed Spice if he hadn't pulled his sword free to block. Making it look all too easy. Like trying to wave a fly away, if that.
"I'll have to try harder next time."
She scowls and then kicks at him around their connecting swords-
(Oh, she could never hope to actually hold a block against him. Not only was he stronger, but he was also heavier- all he had to do was lean a bit forward and his sword would be coming down towards her head.)
-"Did you just try and go for a nut-shot?!" He hisses, voice easing into an oddly high pitch that was- she held back a snorting laugh in shock at it. It was a sound she never expected to hear from him.
"Yeah." She snickers, dropping from the sword stance he'd been having her go over.
The training, and hours had passed since they'd begun and the sun was even starting to set from the looks of it- Ace and Kat, meanwhile, had eventually given up watching and waiting for them to finish and had gone to do their own sparring that was scorching and scoring the earth- but the entirety of hers was mostly…. what were they called? Katas? Simple forms that Quinn felt awkward doing and made it hard to concentrate.
She frowns at the tanto, eyeing her reflection in the silver of the blade.
"A tanto is strong for stabbing and slashing." Spice had said when he'd first handed it over and, well, Quinn didn't honestly know what else a sword would be good for- (What's so hard about swish-swish-stab?)- but she knew enough about video games and the like to know- at best, she was working with a sidearm here.
"Did you think a… whole sword would be bad for me?" She asks with interest, thumb gliding along the flat of the blade, even if the razor's edge was drawing her like a moth to a flame.
(The itch under her skin was an old ache and she shook her head.)
"Why? Think that just because the sword I chose is small that it's an insult?"
She shakes her head. A sidearm was definitely more suited for her. Something that she could have at her side for "what-if"'s instead of a primary weapon that would take years of effort to even handle safely. This, at the least, was slightly more intuitive. Less likely to cut her head off if she fumbled. She could see where he got his reasoning from.
Spice snorts, "Well, in some ways it is."
Oh, nevermind that then.
This time Quinn doesn't even try to keep the scowl off her face. "...Why are you always goading me?"
There came a point when it was just too- purposeful to be ignored.
He doesn't answer the question, not at first, only stalks forward, grips her wrists and rotates her into another pose. "Try gripping like this now…" He murmurs, softly and for the first time without any bite to his tone. Quinn follows the instruction. It ends with her gripping the hilt of her tanto with the blade parallel to her forearm. "Now, move like this."
He shows her a motion and she copies it slowly.
Trying to keep the glances she snuck of him hidden behind her bangs. She was only slightly successful.
Spice shows her a few more katas, one leading into the next, and she slowly repeats them. Then again. And again. And, in silence, once again. Her impatience must show on her face because the glare beginning to form in her narrowing gaze has him pursing his lips and finally coming up with a response for the damning question.
"I think…" He didn't seem hesitant but he does trail off for a moment, gaze flickering over her before he grimaces. "I think that you're weak."
...What is she going to do? Deny it?
Quinn is many things and one of those is being startlingly aware of her faults. She was too apathetic, she was too quick to fall into her own head, depressingly hopeful for human connections, and she knew that she could get… obsessive about things. She was also- quite recently- being constantly hammered over the head with the fact that she was not infallible, she had an incredible lack of useful skills, and the likelihood of her survival on the Grand Line was rapidly, steadily decreasing.
She let the sword slice through the air, harsher than the slow movements of before.
"What of it?" She asks instead, tone clipped and harsh. "I'm… already trying to fix that." She grouses. Gesturing to the sword and then to Ace and then to the bruises on her face and neck and the stiffness in her back, hell, even her cast that's still on!
He crosses his arms over his chest and speaks again, "I think you're weak." He says evenly. "And you have done nothing to show me otherwise."
"I'm here aren't I?"
He lets out a noise of frustration, so quiet and so easily mistaken as nothing but a harsh huff of air that Quinn can't help but bristle.
There's… some sort of miscommunication going on.
"I do not care if you were a nightmare to every enemy you faced, frankly I've had enough of men like that. And I would not care if you were the weakest of this crew, even if you already are, so I won't begrudge you the lack of instruction- training." He frowns. "It's a step in the right direction, I admit, but that is not where I'm concerned."
A miscommunication that only seems to grow as Quinn fails to grasp the intention behind his words. "Then why would you be goading me- What are you concerned about? If not that?" He doesn't like that's she's weak, but he doesn't mind it, but his definition of weakness must include something she's been actively doing wrong because otherwise-
"Your intent means nothing if you don't have the drive to back it up."
Once again, Quinn pulls up short.
Her floundering must show on her face. "The fact remains, that I have not seen you fight. I haven't seen you defend anyone. Or protect them. Or even step in. Every time there seems to be an opportunity, I'm not there or I'm the one to take care of it. And I only believe the things I've seen for myself and know to be true-" His hands grip his biceps a little tighter here, jaw grinding. "-it has been weeks and I have seen you lose your temper, talk a big game, insult our Captain-"
That one is something that had her head whipping up and eyes immediately glaring.
"-and there has not been anything, other than the practicing, to tell me otherwise. People show their true colors when faced with their fears, you know?"
Oh, he is not steamrolling over that one. Not today. Quinn refuses to let him just go back to subject after dropping that on her.
"...You think I insult our Captain?!" She hisses, low; wounded by the insinuation. "That I've done anything to hurt him?!"
Briefly, actually, she searches for any indication of that being the case, and she can find none that- stand out to her. None other than her own personal failings but those were hardly marks against Ace.
And insult?
Quinn snorts at the prospect. She wouldn't let Ace claim to be her Captain if she thought he wasn't worth it. She was not above speaking her mind sometimes, sure, but that should be expected.
"You constantly question him. Almost every order he's given, now that I think about it-"
Both their minds briefly flicker back to his island, where Quinn had been vehement on discretion. And the few since then had been met with a much more casual, but similar, line.
"-so what else am I to think?"
Quinn sucks in a deep breath.
Counts to five.
Let's it out.
Nope. She's still kinda pissed. Maybe even a little more now.
"There… is a difference between questioning and clarification and- and blind subordinance! If Ace gives an order, a vague one that affects all of us, even if we agree with the order, we'd still have the right to question it!"
Spice stops himself from snapping out, sassily: 'No, you have the right. As first mate.' And she does. But she also does it constantly.
"It undermines-"
"The hell it does!" Quinn is glaring at him and he's faintly aware of a slight shiver running up his spine and remembers just how many people she's run off with just a harsh look. He doesn't think it's the same- there's more frustration in her gaze- but there's something odd there, in that look, that he either can't put his finger on or doesn't know the words to describe it. "I would follow an order from Ace, even if I disagreed with it."
The admission is met with a blank look and she practically deflates, heart pounding in her chest. This argument… it has her adrenaline rising and heart rate spiking to untold levels.
"...Even if it was something that went against my own morals and beliefs."
In the context of this world, that is… a horrifying statement to make. Because it was actively acknowledging a willingness to do depraved things if asked- something that marines did all the time but they- they were often blind to their own actions and the consequences of them, but she wasn't going to take it back, even with the vaguely stricken look on Spice's face.
(Yeah. To admit, knowingly, willingly, that she'd do something similar, was honestly horrible. And, god, she'd said it to Spice of all people, who knew and was intimately aware of the Marines and Government disregard for civilian safety- it was bad. It was super bad.
Quinn couldn't bring herself to care.)
'Cause, sickeningly, she knows that she probably would. If it was Ace asking.
But...
"Because I know Ace wouldn't ask me to. I- may not have known him for long, or even very well, yet. But I trust that he wouldn't-" She licks her lips. "-that he wouldn't ask me to do anything he wouldn't do himself, if he could."
And that's the truth, at least.
Quinn resolutely tries not to think about the- consequences of those statements. Because she couldn't help but wonder herself where the sudden fierce bout of loyalty had come from, and why it didn't feel odd. It was a long time coming, she knew, but a quick look back on just how little time had passed since Ace found her in that cell… It has a knot forming in her throat and her eyes blinking back a burning sensation.
(Was it really so simple? Was it really so easy?)
She curses herself a little. She was always way too quick to grab onto things and refuse to let them go- how else did she get herself in this situation?
(They were hers, she can't take that back.)
"So- yes. I voice an opinion. Because if an idea has any merit, it should hold up to minor questioning, even if it's something that he does just because he wants to. It… It makes him think on what he asks of us, takes it more seriously. How could that be a negative?" Spice doesn't have anything for her there. "Besides, we're pirates. There aren't any rules for me to follow. I can do whatever the hell I want."
They'd… They'd gotten off track.
Spice drops the subject and returns to the one they were on before, voice quiet and strained. "I don't know what to expect of you, if something were to go wrong." It sounds almost soft to the ear, honestly. "How can I work with you, if I don't even know if you're a coward or not?"
He pauses, then adds snidely: "As your disposition would suggest.
It's a joke. With an underlying kernel of truth, but Quinn let's it go with a rueful laugh. It helps to break up some of the- the tension that's thick in the air.
"And…" He looks like he's weighing whether it's worth it to even say and, yeah, that's exactly what Spice is doing because he hasn't a clue if it'll only worsen the odd stalemate they have going on or finally finish it. He decides to just take the plunge. "I don't think you respect yourself. That makes it hard to try and respect you."
She falls silent. Opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, and says nothing.
It's a wonder watching her face go through the gymnastics of sorting through the sudden mangling of emotions that it'd caused her.
In the end, she simply doesn't address it.
"I'm not going to go picking any fights just to show off to you. And I wouldn't change anything I've done up 'til now, not really, but-"
She bites her lip, head ducking.
"...I can work on it. That's all I'm able to promise right now."
It's not enough for him. Not really. But he'll let it be enough for now because evening is falling and so is the dark and they've been up for hours and even Ace and Kat had run off back to the ship once they'd noticed their argument heating up to levels that were definitely not welcome to eavesdroppers.
Spice sighs. "Right." He sighs again, just for good measure and sheaths his sword. "I have… dinner to prepare."
And Quinn-
Oh. Ooh.
She's forgotten how-
Quinn had forgotten how emotionally draining arguing could be. How physically taxing it could be too. Because she's now exhausted in a way that she knows isn't just all the katas talking and- "I'm… gonna stay out here a bit longer. Don't wait up on me."
The thought of being in an enclosed space with other people right now was a bit suffocating.
"Mmh."
And she let her gaze drift away as she… struggled to put her own sword back in it's sheath, wow, that's embarrassing. Letting her eyes roam back over the rocky cape and-
It's a bit of a walk, the lighthouse. Raised by a rocky pathway, but she can see the locked door at the bottom as an entrance.
Aa. That's…
Something cold settles in the pit of her stomach as a sudden memory hits her along with a realization of putting two-and-two together.
That's an interesting thought.
"Oh, and Spice?"
"...Hm?"
Her eyes are fixed onto the lighthouse. To him, it just looks like she's going out of her way to not look him in the eye, but, to her, it seems almost impossible to rip her gaze away from the building. "I can assure you…" she says evenly, voice hard, "...that whatever I do, it's going to be to help the crew."
He snorts. "If you say so."
Of course, someone like him still needs proof. Unfortunately, Quinn's not planning on doing anything she'd be willing to show him.
-0-
Crocus may have technically moved into Laboon to heal him but his home was still the light house on the Twin Capes. So, like clockwork, with another week spent helping Laboon's monolithic body survive under its own impossible gigantism- little island whales like him were never supposed to grow as big as he did and he definitely needed the biomechanical support as a result- and the internal damages he was causing himself by ramming his head into Reverse Mountain.
Crocus prepared to leave Laboon's stomach and pursed his lips at the darkness he came out to.
They were on the tail-end of winter so it really shouldn't be so surprising to find the sun missing even though he'd been hoping it had still been up since it wasn't quite that late yet.
What he really wasn't expecting though, and perhaps that was his own fault for not paying more attention to the world outside Laboon, was the ship anchored on the cape. And, considering its flag, it was another group of pirates coming to try their hand at the Grand Lines waters.
"What did they do to the ground?" He can't help but huff. Eyeing the scorch marks and the… was that evidence of Fishman Karate he was seeing? Or, at least, something close to it? That wasn't something he ever saw on this half of the Grand Line, as far away as they were from Fishman Island and the New World which was- objectively safer for Fishman as the Marine and Government presence was pretty minimal as compared to paradise. But still- even there, it was already not all that common.
He clicks his tongue, giving their ship another once over.
It was small. Not too small for the Blues but it definitely wouldn't be lasting very long, especially if they didn't know what they were doing, and- hell- it already looked to be in a state of disrepair. In fact, his eyes narrowed at the sight of it, cataloguing the damages, it looked like they'd had a run in with the mountain. But then, if that were true, they wouldn't have even been able to make it over Reverse Mountain. They'd definitely collided with something.
...Crocus feels his brows pinch. It was Laboon they hit, wasn't it?
It was.
It absolutely was.
Well, he supposed there were worse stories of pirates first few minutes in the Grand Line, he's sure running into a giant whale will be a good one. If they live to tell it that is. A small ship like that, not even a caravan, spoke of both arrogance and naivety. Unpreparedness was not going to get them far, no matter what kind of people they were and Crocus finds himself wandering closer in interest, lantern swaying and casting a soft red glow as, before long, he found himself standing near the bow of the ship. He lifts his lantern up, a cursory glance reveals the badly repaired hull scrappily put together and tells him that they don't have a shipwright or anyone that knows what they're doing when it comes to ships. Which is even worse news for them.
Crocus doesn't board the ship. He's not an idiot, for one. Even if he's sure that, even in his old age, he could take the group, it's common knowledge that one does not just enter into another person's home without permission. Especially pirates. Not unless you were trying to actively challenge and disrespect them. It was one of the fastest ways to get killed or make enemies on the seas. And Crocus didn't need to add more to his, frankly, huge list. Not if he could help it.
He does spare a glance to the window though.
Sees a trio of young men and if that's their crew in its entirety he knows they won't be making it to the next island. At least they each look strong on their own and- oh! A Fishman… so he was right about the Fishman Karate then, he's guessing. What an unusual little group, he shook his head, turning on heel and wandering off. Half expecting one of them to take notice of the light from his lantern and call out to him but there's nothing.
Heh. Dumb kids, not even paying attention to their surroundings.
But, briefly, his eyes flicker back over and he turns the image of their faces over in his head. It's not often that Crocus finds himself seeing a familiar face, especially one that he swears he's met in person and not just through a newspaper, even rarer that it's someone that he doesn't remember meeting and something's telling him that it's not his age getting to him. The first two were completely unfamiliar, though he had nearly had his eyes pop out of his skull when all he had seen from the young one was the back of his head and his… shockingly bright red hair, unusual enough but a closer look had orange and some browns stuck in the mix so it wasn't as if it was much more than enough to have anyone who knew Red Hair give a knee jerk response, the second one hadn't drawn any reactions, though from the sword on his back Crocus was willing to bet he was somehow related to that famous chef that had been causing a fit in the Grand Line some odd years back. No, neither of them, even with all that, were anywhere near as familiar as the third who was… well, Crocus couldn't put his finger on it exactly. His face seemed to tickle at the back of his mind in an almost bothersome way.
Aa, whatever, he's sure if it's something actually important it'll come to him eventually. It wouldn't be too surprising to find out that he was probably some small-time bounty that had popped up recently- even if he can't quite shake the feeling that his presence is familiar- and he didn't have the patience, nor the time, to meet with every single person that passed by the Twin Capes.
Unfortunately…
Unfortunately, it seems that he won't be given much of a choice this time around.
A broken-in light house. Odd, whoever did it clearly knew how to pick locks because they hadn't damaged anything in opening the door. It was even left open, swaying slightly in the breeze and- creaking on it's old hinges as he pushed it open, casting his shadow in the light of the full moon behind him.
There's nothing seemingly out of place, at first glance.
But Crocus's eyes narrow on the open cupboard that he knows for a fact that he'd closed. There didn't seem to be anything broken, or shoved aside, hell, there were even some small pieces of random jewelry laid about that he hadn't cared about enough to squirrel away inside Laboon. Honestly, the only reason he thinks he kept it there in the first place was for exact situations like this, to see if anyone would break in and steal it.
In which case, that means that whoever this is, they're not motivated by robbery and that makes him think that they're looking for something specific. What, though? That's the question. As far as he's aware, he doesn't have anything that would interest the general populace and if it was just a pirate deciding to take a look around he's sure that they would've already broken in- sometime in the days they'd obviously already been stuck here.
So Crocus clutches the strap of the harpoon gun lazily tossed over his shoulder and begins the slow process of walking up the spiraling staircase leading to the upper floor.
There's a mutter.
Nothing more than whisper and it seems almost eerie, echoing down to him.
"...destroy them…?"
A creak of an old floorboard, and he doesn't doubt that whoever it is has already heard him coming by now, and there's a sudden rustling of papers and-
Empty black eyes meet his own.
...
...
She tilted her head lazily back, neck bent to avoid looking at him directly. It's a suspiciously lazy glance. Too bored, too practiced, and he's met enough people to note the sharpness that edges into her gaze as he comes into her vision. There's a calculation there- one that he doesn't quite know how to describe because it's not similar to the viciousness that he's used to finding in predators- it's more… cold.
Like the icy chill of hypothermia, nipping and slow, but deadly all the same.
She kept her mouth closed, slightly bloody lips thinning as she kept a firm look ahead, not waning for even a moment. And she doesn't seem surprised to see him- expecting it almost, even though there's no windows in this room to see him approach from the outside.
The light from his lantern only serves to cast shadows on her.
It does her no favors.
She twitches and her eyes flick back to the file in her hand- the folder- and now that he's looking he can see the opened filing cabinets and the papers that she was going through.
There's something… off. About her.
He thinks it's partly done on purpose. Because as her eyes glance to the file in her hands it's only after the fact that her head slowly turns to follow. It's a stilted movement, one that he would almost describe as puppet-like and, if he didn't know any better, he would wonder whether or not Doflamingo was in the area. There's tension, like she's waiting for him to attack her, but she doesn't stop her ministrations- only slows them down as she flips through a couple papers before letting them fall back down one by one. It's a creepy behavior. Only perpetuated as she looks emptily at the cover of the file-
It's some of his notes, he knows that much; on some old diseases that he knew were only found in the latter half of the Grand Line. But, even with the rareness, they were only branches of commonly known illnesses. Nothing that would interest someone who wasn't a Doctor.
And oh- Crocus had instincts, and he knew when to trust them, and nothing in this woman screamed anything other than 'wrong, misplaced' and certainly nothing close to doctor. He distantly wondered how she could appear so corpse-like while still up and moving. Disconnected, eyes almost glazed in thoughts he wasn't privy to, and something told him that he probably wouldn't like the answer. Especially if those sleeves of her were anything to go by.
(He wasn't stupid. He knew what she wore those sleeves to hide. It was rare on the seas but not so much so in larger city communities and islands with significant Class division that he wouldn't know, as a doctor, exactly what she had going on. It was added too purposefully to her ensemble and anyone who knew what to look for would know immediately that there were scars hidden along her skin-
Something tells him that she's also entirely aware of that fact as well.
So, perhaps, the intent wasn't so much as to hide as it was to keep eyes from lingering. An odd decision. And the strangeness of the woman only adds up more and more as he observes.)
She closes the folder and slides it back into place before pulling out the next, seemingly unbothered by the dim light or, hell, even his presence. Wispy hair flying astray from it's loose bun as she turns and revealing a scar on the back of her neck that reminds him a little of the many patients he'd had- kids and adults alike- who'd sustained similar injuries, though, perhaps, in easier to heal places.
"Can I help-?"
She holds up a finger.
It's the first sign of engaging with him that she's shown thus far so he lets it slide.
"Wealth. Fame. Power."
Crocus feels his whole body go rigid.
It's not the same- not even close- but it's the conjecture, the commonly written word that the newspaper circulated as propaganda directly afterwards.
She slides a finger in the filing cabinet, flicking between the innocuously labeled files.
"The Pirate King, Gold Roger. Or, rather, Gol D. Roger." And the clarification is enough to have his thought stalling. Her voice is smooth and carefully void of emotion but there's still a hint of steel. "Obtained this and everything else the world had to offer. The pirate's last words drove countless to the sea, claiming that- should anyone find it. They may have it. After all, he left everything there, in One Piece."
She hops onto the top of the cabinet, ankles crossing over one another and using the open draw as a place to loosely set them. There's already another selection of folders in her hands that she's perusing.
She licks her thumb to help her turn a particularly stuck page.
"A tale seventeen years old or so now, but one that's rather vague, don't you think? No first hand accounts. No useful information. No explanation for the how and why. Just a dead man and a disbanded pirate crew-" It's an exceedingly callous way of phrasing it and the only reason that it doesn't piss him off more than it already does is the careful voice she says it with. Inoffensive and realizing how it might be taken, the meaning is clear. "-now, I don't really care for conjecture. Nor do I care for rumors. And usually I'm one to let sleeping dogs lie but there's a secret or two in that story that I think is imperative to… an unfortunate situation I find myself in."
He scoffs. "If you're looking for information on the One Piece, brat, you-"
"Information, yes, but not nearly so obvious." She interrupts and- is this revenge for all the running gags he's pulled on people passing through in the last couple decades? "Tell me, does the world know about what helped drive Gol D. Roger to turn himself in or have the Marines really succeeded at keeping their lucky break quiet?"
Crocus is an old man.
One who has lived for many, many years and through many things but something inside him turns over in shock and he freezes. Because- She should not know that. There are very, very few people who should- Hell, even the majority of the old crew didn't know, but some stranger is-
"I'll cut to the chase: I want to know what it was."
"E… Excuse… me?!"
"I want to know what would've killed the late Pirate King if he wasn't the kind of man to go out on his own terms." She's clasping her hands in front of her face now, shoulders hunch, folders tucked under her arms, but gaze unblinking. "Terminal, I assume. Treatable, for a time. Preventable? That's what I really wonder, though it's hardly the most important."
Rage boils inside of him. "You dare think that I-"
"I'm not asking to walk over his name." There's something soft and almost apologetic but her gaze is too hard for her to truly be repentant. "Or to spread rumors. Or anything of the sort. Truthfully, until the last hour or so, none of this had even crossed my mind, but it's a loose thread and one that's, unfortunately, a necessary evil," there's a grimace on her face and it's just enough to convey how much she dislikes being her that it has the anger loosening to a more curious route and his eyes narrow on her, "I take no pleasure in asking this, but I have to. So I'm only able to give it to you straight- I want- no, I absolutely need- the medical files pertaining to Roger and, as his former doctor, you're the only one I know of that would have any actual clue."
That last bit is a lie.
He gapes. The sheer… audacity is astounding in itself.
"I am a Doctor, brat. Do you really think I would hand over the medical files pertaining to my crew. Much less to-"
"Does the name Portgas D. Rouge mean anything to you?"
It's said quickly, all in one breath, and her face pinches at her own words.
He's struck speechless.
"...why?"
"I'll take that as a yes. Tell me, my Captain, the one whose hat is on our flag, he looks familiar doesn't he? Maybe like a face you can't quite place?"
The ensuing silence is monstrous.
"...His name is Portgas D. Ace."
It only grows worse and she pulls one of the folders free once more and begins looking it over and he understands, finally. What all this is about.
"And I want to see if he's going to get sick."
...
...
Crocus stares.
The coloring is not unusual, he's seen it on quite a few people, but the parting of the hair is definitely familiar, the eyebrows and forehead too.
It explains why his first, gut feeling didn't have him thinking explicitly Roger though. Those features- they're hardly the most prominent. The freckles, for one, are a sporadic dusting that seems to distract from other parts- the slight droop and curve of the eyes, even if their Captain's colors, that's all Rouge right there. The nose is hers, the slope of his cheek bones, and the feminine curve of his face is already more than enough to throw him off but he can… He can see his Captain still. In his grin, in his brow, his hair, his- everything.
Portgas D. Ace is fortunate in the fact that the majority of his features, the ones that get caught on first glance and are the most eye-catching, come from his mother but Crocus- who has seen the youth of his Captain and not from faded old posters like the majority of the world, can only take all of his appearance in and gape a little. Because he just screamed Roger's kid. Now that it's been pointed out to him.
Oh, he hasn't got the facial hair or the height- though that still may happen yet, extra growth in this world could come at later, unexpected ages compared to the majority of humans after all- but it's frankly obvious now that it's been insinuated.
How could he have missed it-? For even a second?!
"Oy, Quinn, who's this?"
"This is Crocus." Quinn- and, now that he knew her name, he would make sure that he wouldn't forget it. She's smiling like there's absolutely nothing wrong in the world to the short redheads question and then turns to his Captain's son like she hasn't just been asking medical questions about him behind his back. "He's a Doctor that lives in Laboon, the whale."
His eyes sharpen.
He hadn't told her that.
("I'm sorry, but where the fuck did you just say he lived?")
"I met him when I broke into the lighthouse."
There's sputtering. "-You broke into the lighthouse-?!"
If anything, the smile turns into a full blown grin. She's way too pleased with herself.
And Captain's son- Ace, he tries to remind himself- gapes for a moment before falling into laughter that's- it's too familiar. Just a bit too much and something in him shudders as Ace cuts himself off and stumbles forward into a-
Into a bow? Of all things?
"My apologies for my crewmate, sir, Quinn's more of a wild card than I had guessed." He guesses that's one way to describe her. "I'm sure she didn't mean anything too bad about breaking into your lighthouse." That's a fun way of saying that he doesn't give a shit. "At least, now, you'll know to keep better locks."
Wow.
This…
Absolute little shit.
There's an approving glance from the swordsman at his words. Quinn's expression flattens and Crocus isn't sure but he thinks she's trying not to laugh. There's no doubt about it now- if there was any in the first place after taking a good look at the kid- this is definitely the Captain and Rouge's son.
Yet, somehow, Ace manages to say it all in the tone of someone who seems honestly apologetic and trying to be helpful.
If Crocus didn't know any better he might've even been fooled.
But know better he did.
"Brat." There's a fondness building that he can't help, especially when Ace grins sunnily up at him and it's oh-so-painfully-familiar. "And here I was thinking of helping with your ship problem."
Quinn's gaze snaps to him but the smile doesn't fall, even as her eyes narrow as she clearly tries to figure out what his game is. The truth is, Crocus doesn't know much either. He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know a thing or two about carpentry. Had to learn in order to help Laboon, a ship like this is no problem."
"Really?! You'll help?"
"Hm. The sooner you get your ship fixed, the sooner you're out of my hair."
-0-
Crocus lounges as the quartet flounders at his sharply shouted directions.
"Man, if you're gonna offer to help, I figured you'd be down here actually lending a hand…" Kat, as he soon learned his name after their first meeting, mutters. "Not reading a newspaper."
He scoffs. "I'm getting on in years. And you kids could do to learn this stuff yourselves."
Spice snorts, patting the kid on the head. "Let the old man rest, Kat, his old bones need all the rest he can get. We don't want our guide to keel over from overwork now, do we?"
Crocus gives him a flat look.
"Get back to work. Brat."
Spice smirks, hopping away to help Ace and Quinn nail in one of the higher repairs that neither of them could quite reach.
Crocus doesn't go out of his way to talk to his Captain's son, can't quite bring himself to. Only stands back and observes him as he bounces off of the others and unexpectedly falls asleep, only to get caught by his intimidating first mate or his swordsman before he can hit the ground. It was entertaining, watching him and watching how his crew jumped to have his back- the crew he gathered so far, they seemed like a good, if small, bunch and that was even with Crocus being biased and disliking his first mate.
She, notably, was distracted by his watchful presence and he'd caught her, more than once, stealing a glance his way when she wasn't busy mooning over the Captain's son, having the Fishman boy moon over her, or arguing with the swordsman. It was a weird dynamic they had but one that seemed to work for them and didn't seem to cause many problems- though there was an odd sort of tension between her and Spice. With her seemingly avoiding him and Spice eyeing her with an unhappy look every now and then.
Ace, however, and Crocus couldn't help but focus on him, struggling to even pay attention to anything else, didn't seem to be affected by any of it.
"Hey, Quinn, pass that over here, yeah?"
"Heads up!"
He was a kid that seemed to grin a lot- not smile, and yes, there was a difference, because a grin was far more mischievous compared to a smile- and Crocus tried not to see his Captain's face when he looked at him. It was made easier because, honestly, Ace didn't seem to take after him as much as he did Rouge- he was much quieter, more determined, and had an observing gaze that spoke of a well-practiced protectiveness as he watched over his crew.
He seemed to get along with them all just fine.
Quinn and Ace could be found poking fun at one another or snickering over something as they knocked into each other. The two were comfortable with each other. In a way that most crew's never learnt to be, and he didn't know if it was just time spent together or the girl's building attachment that had it developing. Ace and Spice, and Crocus thinks this is more due to Spice being obviously the most recent recruit, were probably the least personable with each other from what he could tell but there was a warrior's respect between them that told Crocus all he needed to know. They would work well together, both on and off the battlefield. And watching Ace with Kat, who seemed to have a brother-sister relationship going on with Quinn, told him that the crew's youngest was in a position that reminded him a tad of his own old crew's relationship with the Red Hair-brat and the Buggy-brat.
"Kat, ready?!"
"You bet!"
"Spice?"
"Let's just go already."
They also seemed to be pretty adept at working off of one another. If the three-way battle royale the men were starting was anything to go off of. It was pretty interesting to watch, especially as they began and Crocus learned quickly that Ace had eaten a Devil Fruit- a fire logia too, from the looks of it, which was an impressive find- and that the fire was complemented nicely by Katsura's Fishman Jujitsu and Spice's more traditional fighting prowess.
It was a break from working on the ship after hours and hours of tearing down their mistakes and redoing the repairs until they were of Crocus's standards. They weren't quite done yet. But they were much better off than they were before.
Quinn stood in silence, saddling up next to his seat and staring off to where Laboon swam in laps off in the distance rather than at the fighting. The great waves produced by his tail washing water up over the edge of the cape's rocks and, while not getting close enough to soak anyone's shoes, it was still enough to make the ground slippery. Worsened by Kat's own hand and sending both Ace and Spice to the ground as they slipped on the rocks.
Crocus, when it became clear that she hadn't planned to speak, said, "All this to figure out if Roger's sickness is genetic."
He can see the muscles in her cheeks tense as she grits her teeth and looks around for her crew. Relaxing only when she makes notes of each of their locations, far enough away that none of them would be able to hear their quiet conversation that was already a few days coming.
"I have nothing to lose." She affirms.
"Girl, are you daft-? There's always something you can lose."
This is what he hated about rookies. They were either overconfident and arrogant or they were too busy burning the candle at both ends to care about consequence.
"Okay, let me rephrase then," she sounds dry, voice flat, and Crocus can't help but snort, "I have nothing I wouldn't be willing to lose."
"Tch." She was definitely in the latter category. "An attitude like that is gonna get you killed one of these days."
"Mm-hm." It was rather annoying listening to just how… done she sounded. As if he was the one causing trouble for her and not the other way around. Speaking of which: "Have you thought about what I want? It doesn't even have to be specific. Just the one thing and anything from, like, a family history standpoint that Ace should have already. You know, in case of emergencies."
See, that was another problem that he had with this rookie in particular. She was of startling sound mind and her reasoning was… frustratingly understandable. When she wasn't creeping around lighthouses and being mildly threatening, she was downright reasonable. And logical.
It pissed Crocus off to no end.
Because, now that they'd decided that the other wasn't going to try anything, Quinn had asked for the medical files not with Roger in mind but rather- in concern of her Captain's families medical history which he should, naturally, be made aware of. Because- of course!- he had a "right to medical information that can affect his own health."
The problem was that she was correct but Crocus wasn't happy about it.
"Anyone ever tell you that the road to hell is paved with good intentions?"
"Is that why I hear that hell has all the best company then?"
Cheeky brat. He ignores her, "There a reason he hasn't come up asking about this if it's oh-so important then?"
"Ace wouldn't ask for help from some stranger. He's got too much pride and ego to do that."
"That's not all."
"...mnh, well," she huffs, head bowing in an attempt to hide behind her hair, "he may not know that you were once a member of the King's crew."
That begs the question of how she knew then.
"And-" She bites her lip here. In that bad habit that he'd seen multiple times already. "A-And he… doesn't know that I know. About him and the King."
Crocus stares at her.
Quinn adds, quietly: "He has a complicated relationship with the King."
"I had assumed he'd told you."
"...No. I figured it out on my own. I was- I am, I mean, waiting for him to tell me himself. To trust me enough to."
"Oh? And you're doing yourself a favor by telling me- a stranger?"
He expected that it'd cause her to jump in realization or, at the very least, take on a guilty expression but there was no such thing. Not even the slightest glimmer. Only the curve of her mouth into a winning smile that didn't let him see anything, not even an idea of the thoughts going on in her head, "Oh, no, no, no. Of course not. Whenever did I say that he was… who he is. I think if you'll look back I hardly said a word to it. It's not my fault you figured it out because of a non-sequitur. After all, it's only expected that a crew be able to recognize his Captain's son, don't you think?"
"That's… a dangerous game you're playing, girl. People have called others traitors for less."
That seems to finally get to her. Because she noticeably falters. "...I don't care much what people think of me. I only care about the well-being of Ace- and of the crew."
"That's a good way to get yourself into a mutiny."
"Excuse me?"
He snorts. "It's a slippery slope, brat, your heads a bit too big for your shoulders, isn't it?"
She scoffs.
Honestly, these rookies were going to be the death of him.
There's a shriek from Katsura as he ducks under a blast of fire from Ace and proceeds to try and drown him with a wave, completely snuffing any flames that Ace could hope to create. They were certainly making a mess of things, weren't they? Quinn snickered at them and then laughed, though she was quick to cut it off and try to hide it, when Spice jumped in and smacked Katsura in the back with the flat of his blade.
"Not going to join them?"
She shrugs. "I, uh. Was actually going to ask for a favor."
"Presumptuous."
"Yeah, I know." She seems frustrated that she was even asking in the first place. "It's not big, I just- I broke my arm awhile ago and I-" Yes, he can see her cast. It's slightly mangled and distended from where water had gotten on it and started to bend it out of shape. If it wasn't for the brace keeping everything forcibly in place, it would almost be doing more harm than good but he knew how hard it was to get regular and necessary medical attention when one was constantly on the go. Especially when good doctors were hard to come by. "-was wondering if you'd take a look at it? I'm supposed to take the cast off today."
Other than reading the Sora Warrior of the Sea section for the third time he doesn't have anything better to do so he supposes that he can at least do this.
"Alright, let's remove it."
She freezes as he goes to reach for her arm, "A-Aa, actually, can we take this somewhere private?" Yeah, he supposes that reaction is understandable, especially as it has her crossing her arms in an attempt to pull them in and hide them away from prying eyes. She sends another nervous glance towards her crew.
"Another thing you've decided to hide from them?"
The look she gives him is notably unimpressed.
...
...
Her hands don't shake. Not really. There's not even the slightest bit of a tremble, barely even a whiff of hesitation, as Quinn fumbles with the sleeve she's somehow managed to roll over her cast instead of just finding some baggy long sleeved shirt which would've been much easier-
Crocus doesn't offer her much more than a glance, refusing to stare at the marks that marr her skin. Even if they were put there by her own self, it wasn't his place to dissect her with his gaze and offer platitudes.
It only serves to help her relax in his presence, where she had been so tense before- wound up like a spring and ready to bounce at the first sign of him doing something she didn't like. Which, he supposes, is only fair.
He's a little offended that she would think he would be anything other than professional.
"Need help?"
"I think I got it."
It wasn't like he had the circular saw that most Doctors used when removing casts but, with the cast already as mangled as it is, he thinks the large, well-sharpened scissors she'd pulled out would be enough. It's a trying process and frustrating to watch because he would already have it off by now if she didn't insist on doing herself. Which, again, was fair considering Crocus wouldn't want someone that he didn't exactly trust to bring sharp things anywhere close to his skin- even if it was for a good reason.
The remains of the cast fall away in chunks and Crocus looks her arm over, muttering, "No clear deformities… there's bruising and the scab is… Here. Let me. I don't want you to break it open."
He grabbed the wet sponge that she'd already wetted. The cast had fallen away to reveal fuzz from its placement and a thick layer of dead skin that'd built up from the process, he was sure that her arm was terribly itchy and irritated from it all, and he didn't want her to irritate it more- or, even worse, break off the thick scab that had grown to cover the area where bone had pierced through and sutures that had definitely stayed in for too long were still stuck- when she tried to clean it off.
Crocus pointedly doesn't mention the many lines of thin, white scar-tissue that reveal themselves, standing out like beacons against her brown skin. Even as his subconscious, medical fueled part of his mind supplies unwanted information.
Lacerations from tendons in wrist to mid-bicep. Sporadic, yet purposeful.
Scars are old. Freshest one is maybe several years old.
Small, circular burns within the cubital area. Most likely as a result of cigarettes.
From the position and angle of the scars, and the areas that they're found, they were most likely gained from her own ha-
Crocus shuts down his brain. Instead, he focuses intently on the still healing area from where her arm had been broken through her skin and shattered. He can say, for certain, that she's lucky to still have her arm. He carefully wipes the sponge over the lines of sutures that he'd have to remove soon. The wound was not a fun one and he could definitely see how bad it had been. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that the Doctors that'd worked on her had all but stapled her bone back together in an attempt to keep everything in place.
"You're going to need to keep the brace on it. For another month or so." But that was much easier to work with, it was mostly just belted straps to support everything and keep it running smooth. "And it's going to be notably weaker for a good long while. You'll have to do some exercises to get it back up to speed."
Quinn sighs, "Physical therapy. Yay. That's what I was afraid of." Absolutely deadpan.
"Teaches you to not break your arm next time."
"It was a trying situation! I was lucky to get out with just my arm broken and not- something worse."
"Says the weakling."
She falls silent. Having noticeably deflated.
Crocus doesn't offer another comment. Just goes back to inspecting her arm. All in all, it's healed rather nicely, and he's a little surprised, with something as bad as this, and with as terrible as her cast had gotten due to conditions, that she hadn't been worse off or, hell, even gotten an infection.
The wound was a wonky, slightly curved X-shape, with the right upper part of the diagonal petering off at a shaky W-like zigzag and the bottom of the other diagonal on the right side falling into a messed up lowercase F-shape. It was definitely going to leave a scar. Hell, he could still see the bruises from when she'd gotten it. Her skin was a mix of yellows, blues, and purples and broken blood vessels.
It was a bursting mark.
An unusual one, but he'd seen enough similar injuries- or injuries along the same lines- that he had a good idea of how it was going to end up looking.
Quinn grunted, running her opposite hand through her hair as she brought her knee up to her chest. She was stuck sitting on the bathroom sink within the Stellar because it was the only place that offered a good amount of privacy and would keep the others from immediately stumbling upon them on the off chance that they happened to come inside while Crocus was still looking her arm over. "It's going to take like a year to fully heal. I just know it."
Crocus rolls his eyes.
She sure is a dramatic one.
(He's unaware of her seriousness in that statement. As, even once it heals, Quinn will likely find the scab still struggling to disappear as the days stretch onwards. Far past the point that it would take most people to heal completely within this world.)
Crocus tilts her arm this way and that, brows shooting up in thought.
"Something on your mind?"
"...Hm."
"Just say it."
"This wound- it looks an awful lot like the scar on the back of your neck, doesn't it?"
Quinn winces, "...That's the one scar I really didn't want you to mention."
Odd, he figured that, out of all of them, it would be the one she wouldn't care much about. But he can't help but note the similarities beginning to arise and how experience tells him that the one on her arm will soon turn to look like it as well.
Crocus changes the subject. "I'm going to need to remove the sutures."
Quinn groans.
...
...
"Where's Quinn going with Crocus?"
It's asked between dodging and Kat rolling beneath a rather pathetic shooting of Ace's fire before being forced to jump back from Spice's sword coming down where he once stood. There's a lot of moving and running around involved and he can't find a chance to attack as he's forced to move around- he doesn't know how, or why, but Ace and Spice both seem to have come to the conclusion that he was currently the most threatening of their whole group. Now- for Ace- he understood it, his water was a major threat to his fruit, but for Spice?
Kat didn't get it. But he would be lying if he said that he didn't think it was flattering.
"No idea-" Ace grunts, not even bothering to look up.
And Spice growls: "If you have time to talk, you have time to fight back. Stop getting distracted, let's go!"
Kat frowns, even if he supposes that Spice is right. There's something funny going on with him and Quinn and Spice seems to grow less and less tolerant of mentioning her as they went on and- quite honestly- Kat just couldn't figure out what it was all about. Not really. Not even after that conversation they'd had before Spice presented her with the tanto.
He didn't think she was strong enough or something, but Kat just… didn't get it- Quinn had defeated the Mime! If he had a problem with her for being weak, he should have the same problem with him because Kat had been… he'd been completely unable to stand up to the Mime, much less win.
And when he'd mentioned the conflict to Ace in passing, he'd only gotten a confused look and questions about it that he didn't know how to answer, so now Kat was left wondering if all the tension he was seeing was all in his own head.
He didn't think so. Not really. But it was hard not to think that when he just didn't know what to make of it all.
"She said Crocus was a Doctor, right? Aa- watch it!" Kat narrowly rolled away from another hit from Spice and flicked a wave that sent him nearly careening into the ocean. Huh. Maybe there was a good reason why they were focusing on him after all. "Sorry!"
"Don't apologize, that was good!"
"Chehaha!"
A free-for-all fight like this was way more fun than he thought it would be. Once Quinn's arm was all fixed he couldn't wait to get her in on this action, it sucked that they wouldn't be able to do this again for a while because they couldn't exactly do it on the ship- it was much too small for the three of them, much less the four of them. "-GAH?!
Ouch, well, maybe it would be more fun if Ace hadn't just kneed him off the edge of the cape.
Kat gasps, thrown back so far that he surprises Laboon off the edge of the shore and causes the whale to dive beneath the surface to get away. Not that Kat was in a much better place. Nearly knocked away by Laboon rushing off. "Holy crap, ow." That hurt. Shit, no wonder Quinn had thrown up from his hit earlier, Kat could still feel his stomach aching and cramping from the sudden kick and an odd lurching feeling that- "Oh, whoops, still underwater." He nearly facepalmed himself. Having missed the sudden change of breathing air to breathing water as well as the muddled sunlight breaking through the water's surface instead of being warm against his face.
Wow, and he was deep down to.
Kat eyed the rocky mountain side that stretches down into the ocean below.
He sucks in a deep breath through his gils, exhaling bubbles of carbon monoxide that begin to drift lazily up to the surface. The waters were broken by Laboon's tail and Kat offered him a shaky grin as the mountain sized whale eyes him up curiously, sidling up next to him now that he'd realized that he wasn't some mysterious threat- he was never going to get over the fact that Crocus had been living inside his stomach, even if he had explained the how's and why's. If it wasn't for Quinn backing up his story, Kat wouldn't have believed it.
"H-Hey there, Mr. Laboon. Is it just me or are the currents here getting real cra~zy?"
Aw man, he was so awkward.
There's a high pitched chirp in response and Katsura feels his grin bloom, growing stronger.
At least Laboon was a smart whale.
A nice one too and, if he wasn't mistaken, Kat thinks he can see a slight smile in his eye.
"Sorry about running into you with the ship a couple days ago, I didn't realize you were there and I couldn't turn us around in time."
Another chirp.
"Ace is kinda pissed but- aa! I don't really blame you." He brings a finger up to his lips. "Don't tell him I said that though. I think he'd yell at me for… I don't know. Commiserating with the enemy or something. He's kinda dramatic… A-Ah! Not that that's a bad thing! Ouh-!
He giggles as Laboon chirps happily.
He jumps- "Oy, Kat! You okay?!" -as the muddled voice of Ace calls down from up above. There was a slightly worried note to it and Kat cursed himself, he'd been underwater for far longer than normal people would've been and, after a punt like Ace had hit him with, they'd be understandably concerned and-
Kat feels a little guilty at the giddy feeling that blooms in his chest as a result of it.
"Oh, shoot, talk to you later. I gotta go back to Ace and Sp… ice…"
He trailed off, blinking rapidly as something moved across the distance. If he'd turned even a moment later, he would've missed it. And, Kat squints, feeling something in his stomach drop unnaturally as he tries to make it out- joined by a curious Laboon- the dark shadowy shape growing larger.
"He… y, that's not fair… y-you're not supposed to be here- Wait- Hey, HEY!"
...
...
"I didn't kill him, did I?"
Ace makes a guilty face, looking off into the area of the ocean where Kat had hit and hadn't come back up from. Spice, having tossed his sword to lay over his shoulder, scratching his cheek and looking incredibly nonchalant despite Ace's worry.
"Yes, Ace. You killed the one person who can breathe underwater by tossing him in the ocean." Spice deadpans. Unhelpfully. "It's rather impressive actually. You managed to drown the un-drownable. Really, a testament to us all."
"Hey."
Ace sighed, leaning further and further over the edge of the rocks. Unaware of Spice stepping closer to watch him on the off chance that he falls. There were a couple dark shadows in the water- but it didn't look like Kat was struggling or dead from the way he was moving so Ace wasn't too worried about it. "...What do you think it's like down there?"
"When you're not holding your breath, probably pretty amazing." Spice hums. "Think of all the rare species of fish I could find…"
Ace grinned up at him, tearing his gaze away from the water. "Think of all the awesome meals you could make me with them!"
"Heh. Only for you-?"
Ace is turned, so he doesn't see it, but he hears it and, with watching Spice's face like he is, he gets to watch the moment his chef's face slackens in shock and he begins to pull his sword free and- There's a wave of water, it crashes down into the rocks and washes over them and-
"The hell was that-?!" Ace wheezes, spitting up saltwater and blinking wildly, trying to shake the momentary weakness the drenching had caused- limbs feeling heavy and strangely boneless. He looks a lot like a deranged, drenched cat actually. Hair sticking up and eyes wild as he hisses and scrambles away from the edge he'd been hanging over, lest he get pulled off by the force of the stray waves and sucked into the ocean. "Kat?!"
He whips around in search of his navigator because- who else would be throwing a wave around like that other than him and, maybe Laboon if he'd pissed off the whale. But, finally finding him, he has the sudden feeling that both those possibilities are wrong.
Ace blinks drops of water away, "...Kat?"
Kat's laid out on the rocks, thrown onto his back and coughing and hacking up seawater violently as he uses his elbows to sit himself up. His claws are hanging from his wrist, the strap of one clutched in a fist, like he hadn't been able to get it back on quick enough to defend himself, if the bloody nose he was sporting was anything to go by. "That's not fair- I beat you, you weren't supposed to follow me-!"
"BAOOOOA-!"
Oh, that sounded familiar.
"Isn't that-?"
Yep, it was.
Ace and Kat were greeted by the familiar goat-like face of the Beast. Coarse matted fur, blood covered face, sliced and scored with deep scratches that could only have come from Kat's own hands. The howl that it belts out is low and echoing, it sounds like thunder almost actually- a crashing crescendo that extended far beyond its point of origin.
"You know this thing-?!" Spice wheezed, coughing up a gallop of water himself, he'd stuck his sword into the ground in order to stay anchored to where he'd been standing.
It doesn't really matter.
Because, before anything could happen, an angry Laboon surges up from the ocean with a great chirping shriek and grabs the serpent by its neck, throttling it back down and into the ocean and sending up an even bigger wave then bigger-
"Ah, shit."
Forget seeing what was happening, Ace would be lucky just to hang onto the rocks.
"Hey- wait!" Katsura shouted, wiping his arm across his face and smearing blood all over himself, he sounded muffled and snotty and horribly congested. The Beast had gotten a good hit in, headbutting him so hard that he was launched straight out of the water and back on the rocks. Kat was being tossed around everywhere today, wasn't he?
It hurt getting up, his legs were shaky and, as he went to stand, they folded out from beneath him, sending him to his knees.
He gritted his teeth, tongue catching on the sharp point and drawing even more blood to add to the bunch but Kat can't bring himself to care. Not even to react. He's too overcome with a building confusion and anger that has him baring his teeth and glaring so harshly that it was hard to see or, perhaps, that was due to the frustrated tears beginning to build.
Kat didn't know. He just didn't want the Beast here, following him, and trying to reinsert himself in his life.
"-You had your chance! Plenty of chances!" He snarled as the Beast wailed from Laboon's attacks, trying to stay above water. "Go back home Quagga!"
It's rather anticlimactic actually.
Kat huffs- though even to his own ears it sounds whimpery, and Laboon tosses the Beast- Quagga- away from the shoreline and away from him and, with one long last belted note that Kat can't make sense of, he dives away. Leaving nothing but a trail of harsh currents and a triumphant Laboon chirping his victory.
"Damn it, Qua- uagga…!" Kat wiped the frustrated tears away, hands trembling. "It's too late for you to follow me now."
And then, there was silence.
Or there was, until Quinn and Crocus came out from within the ship, both looking harried and the former intensely bewildered, and just… stared at the lot of them.
She almost didn't want to ask.
"What happened?"
"That Beast-thing from Kat's island showed up and Laboon chased it off!"
Quinn… stares, then turns to the still staring off in the distance Katsura, whose face is bruised and covered in blood and who looks like he wants to punch something and then lay in bed for a couple hours. "...And this is why we teach the importance of the double-tap, kids."
"Y-Yeah," Kat's voice cracks, "sure…"
She winces.
"A-Aa…"
There's no sign of Quagga anymore. Just the sun lowering on the horizon.
-0-
Ace doesn't think much about the old dude.
Quinn vouched for him so he guesses he's okay. Probably. Maybe. He doesn't know. She seems like a good judge of character. But, after that, he hadn't really thought much of him. The whole "Living In A Whale" thing was weird and cool but when Ace had asked him about it he'd only stared him down until it got awkward to the point that Ace had been forced to slowly back away until he was out of sight- which had… which had, admittedly, Quinn dying of laughter and burying her face in a snickering Katsura's shirt so he probably wasn't as bothered by it as he normally would be. And, even with that particular bout of confusing awkwardness, only made weirder and slightly creepy by the fact that Ace kept catching the old man looking at him like he was some kind of unusual specimen to examine, Ace had kinda withheld an opinion on him-
He just didn't know what to make of him. It didn't help that there seemed to be some odd sort of building tension between him and Quinn and, ever since they landed on the cape, Quinn kept giving Ace her own set of strange glances- he didn't even know what to describe them as. He just knew that he didn't like them.
It had an odd pit forming in his stomach and his instincts a confused mess of him either; wanting to look away and hide his face, or run up to her and pull her away from whatever it was that was… causing her to look at him like that.
But Crocus had been helpful and kind and, for that, he had a modicum of Ace's respect. Even if he was suspicious as to why he was helping out without asking for anything seemingly in return in the first place.
Well, that was as far as Ace knew. He didn't know what he and Quinn had talked about before he'd been introduced.
Hell-! He'd even asked her and Quinn had just shrugged, looking slightly confused on why he was even asking, and said: "I just met with him? I mean, it probably wasn't the best introduction because, like, I broke into his place and was screaming: Oh shit, internally, the whole time. So-!" And that had been that.
Or, Ace had thought that had been all of it, until he'd looked over his shoulder to see Crocus giving her a look that could only be described as annoyed, fed up, and mildly impressed about something he probably didn't want to find all that impressive.
He also, in turning around, misses the glare Quinn shoots Crocus and the argument happening with their eyes over his head but that's neither here nor there.
The lack of information, lack of understanding of what was happening behind the scenes, all of that is what leads to Ace taking Crocus to the side- once their ship has been, finally, repaired and seemingly everything back together despite the Quagga-shaped hiccup that seems to have smacked Katsura in the face, both literally and figuratively- and offering him a smile and a bow. It's not too deep, just enough to express his sincerity, just as Makino had taught him, because as much as Ace doesn't like not knowing what's happening exactly, he's not so much an asshole (cough, anymore, cough) that he couldn't still thank Crocus for the help he did provide.
If he had known what would come out of his mouth next though, he would have never, ever, even thought of offering anything- much less his thanks of all things.
"You should tell them."
Ace blinks, eyes opening to stare down at the ground and at his feet, before a bemused smirk is sliding across his face and he lifts his gaze up. It's slow, languid movements- because he doesn't quite understand, at first, what Crocus is even alluding to. "Sorry? Tell who what?"
He assumes he means his crew but Ace doesn't have an idea about what Crocus would think he should tell him-
"You know, you don't look like him much but I can still see him in you."
-Ace's thoughts stutter.
"I…" No, that can't be right. He shakes his head and narrows his suddenly darkening gaze and something like ice starts to settle over him. "You."
Dimly, Crocus is impressed, a look like that- now that was the gaze of a predator. That was someone on the prowl and someone who knew how to be intimidating and knew how to bite.
The kid looks murderous. Crocus doesn't doubt that he is. It's a tugging pull on his tail a tad too harsh compared to what the kid is probably used to- as, if he was a smart one, and Crocus was willing to bet that he was given that he's survived this long, nobody would have been able to figure it out. Should have been able to figure it out.
It stands to question how Quinn knew but Crocus knows better than to ask the kid how he slipped up in front of that particular one if even he doesn't know that he did.
"Me." Crocus responds flatly, upsetting whatever careful balance had been in place, watching as Ace's teeth bare and he takes an intimidating step forward. He has to hand it to him, really, he might have even taken a step back if he was anyone lesser. "It wasn't that hard to see, once I noticed-" Once it'd been pointed out. "-after all, I spent quite a few years with the man myself."
Ace grits his teeth.
Looking more and more like he's planning to bash his skull in and, if it wasn't for the whisper-shout in his voice, due to his crew being just a couple hops away, he might've already done so. "How? When?"
"That crewmate of yours introduced me as a Doctor, didn't she? Wonder who it was for?"
Ace tenses, shoulders coming up to hug his neck, as his pupils dilated to horrified pinpricks. He looks like something out of his nightmares has just been realized because he's paled a paper white and his eyes shift to spy said-crewmember with a shaky, desperate fervor.
"You…" the whisper isn't just for secrecy now, it's too mortified and shameful and it has Crocus frowning and wondering what had been done to him for him to take on that tone of voice with just a mention, "...You didn't tell her, did you?"
"No. I didn't."
A part of him wants to tell him that she already knows. Wants to emphasize the point in his words, but Crocus has already rocked the boat, regrettably, more than he should have if the immediate, heart-stopping relief that washes over his face is anything to go by. So he doesn't ruin it, doesn't say a word. And Ace takes another threatening step forward, fisting the collar of his shirt and rearing back for what could've only been a punch but Crocus did not travel the entirety of the New World for nothing.
Still, he lets him have this.
Crocus takes the first punch like a man. Doesn't even flinch. Even if there's enough force behind it that it would've killed most people in one shot.
"You should tell them-"
"Fuck you!"
"You should tell them." He repeats, as calmly as he's been throughout this entire confrontation. It has Ace faltering, teeth gritting between wild eyes and he's already gearing to punch him again. "At least that girl of yours."
Apparently, unfortunately, that appears to be one of the worst things he could've said- even if Crocus is right and he knows that he is. He also knows that he's throwing the brat under the proverbial bus as well, because Ace would also be confronting her with her hidden knowledge and she'd have to come clean or dig herself a deeper hole. And, quite honestly, Crocus didn't know which she would choose because he was growing more and more certain by the day that she knew much more than she let on -Ace simply snarls.
"Ace…?"
Crocus closes his eyes.
And thinks: Oh, she's good. She's much too good.
Just the right amount of curious innocence and defensive, righteous fury at whoever pissed off her Captain- though Crocus knew where that anger was truly coming from if that suspicious gleam in her eyes was anything to go by- that it has Ace faltering, caught in a fight that he didn't want to be noticed.
The timings too perfect, her stance too ready and practiced, her hand hovering over the hilt of her tanto but not quite close enough that it makes him think that she actually believes she might need it-
Crocus has to wonder if she was ever an actor. There's too many details that he also has to wonder where the fake meets the real- some of that has to be more than a lie. It just depended on what parts of it.
Ace gapes, clearly not knowing how to react- for a second, Crocus thinks he's going to yell at her, in another second, he thinks it's going to be another punch to the face, and then Ace's face screws up- scrunches and furrows in such frustration that it has him, literally, smoking in deep-seated rage that Crocus is almost one-hundred percent certain that he plans on just setting him on fire and being done with it. Shockingly, none of that happens.
"Tell her," he growls, fist tightening in his shirt, "tell any of them, and you're dead."
And then Crocus is being let go and Ace is stomping away, leaving a trail of burnt footprints in his wake.
"Quinn, we're leaving!"
"...right."
Ace is already gone, not checking back, even as Quinn stalls for a moment, shooting him a dark look, before going to follow and- "Why wait?"
"Huh?"
"Why wait for him to tell you first?"
She purses her lips, looks at him a little like he's asking a question with a rather obvious answer. "Because if he doesn't trust me enough to tell me himself, I don't deserve to know it."
"That, at least, we can agree on."
-0-
Quinn didn't imagine it to feel as good as it did.
Oh, it had her heart hammering in her chest, her legs shaky, and a certain amount of weakness just waiting for her to collapse, but it also had her breath catching and her fingers tightening as she desperately held onto the folder tucked beneath her arm-
It may have resulted in Crocus hating her, and, really, Quinn didn't need any more enemies in the Grand Line than what she was already bound to get, but that didn't seemingly matter. Quite honestly, Quinn didn't care. Hell, she couldn't even bring herself to feel guilty because Crocus had to admit that- even if she went about it in a way that he didn't like and called borderline traitorous, though she didn't really see how he'd jumped to that conclusion- she was right.
Ace deserved access to his family's medical history.
Oh, the files were old, somewhat outdated and dilapidated, and not the most detailed but that was fine. The names and dates were all blacked out, as well as any identifying information redacted on the copies aside from fairly common traits, but Quinn would've gone through and done that herself if Crocus hadn't done it already for her.
There was even a little on Rouge! Admittedly, very, very little. Quinn wasn't sure exactly how she fit into the story even still- (Civilian? Pirate? Revolutionary? Marine? Whoever knew.) -and she didn't dare read more than to make sure everything important was hidden away and everything else was put where it needed to be.
She was right. She was right! And she-
She felt bad.
Ace is left virtually silent except for short barking words that he offers only sparingly between an air of gloom and mulishness and Quinn's oddly blank facedness and watchfulness doesn't help his decreasing mood, acting more like a sentinel than anything else and unwittingly winning a few points back in Spice's book and losing them in Crocus's and- She feels bad. Not terribly so. But it's creeping up on her even if she didn't feel like she'd done much wrong.
She'd been dealt a nasty hand and she'd done what she could with it.
That was all.
"Damn it, damnnn… it!" But still- somehow, Crocus was getting to her with his remarks and, now that she was thinking about it, Spice probably was too. "I'm stupid, aren't I?"
She bites her lip, chews on it.
It doesn't matter much, in the end.
There were too many loose threads and plots and thoughts in her head for her to really devote enough of herself into caring about their own thoughts of her, or to even really think on the accusations they'd both given her- because Quinn had meant it when she said her plans for the future involved nothing but the well-being of the crew.
"Case in point…"
The memory of Roger's sickness had been one she'd been quick to dismiss or, it would've been, if she hadn't also realized that she had absolutely zero-clue as to what it was and that Ace had died young- much too young to figure out if any problems from his father side had carried over or, hell, even from his mother's side. And Quinn didn't think this world had the best grasp on genetics but it still would've been a concern, not knowing medical history like that- especially whatever sickness it was that helped to take down a man like The King, like Roger- even though Quinn had first assumed that it wasn't genetic. Or, at least, she'd thought that Ace didn't have a chance of getting it, when there was no apparent explanation to her memory.
...She's not leaving it up to that assumption.
She's also not leaving it up to a story that she doesn't even know if she can trust the accuracy of. Though, given how things were going, so long as she didn't majorly mess up anything, she thinks she was good.
She really can't help the broad smile that spreads at the sight of the files.
It's triumphant, maybe a tad evil, but at least she'll know for sure now, the possibility of genetics killing Ace if the Marine's don't get to him first- if Teach doesn't- was too likely to ignore.
Now, all she needed was to wait for a Doctor to join the crew and then she could give them the files, asking for even more discretion, and everything should be fine. Smooth sailing, right? Right?
Ah, who was she kidding?
Quinn had the terrible feeling that everything was going to go horribly wrong. But, perhaps, just this once, maybe that was the paranoia talking. The chewing on her lip just grows harsher and harsher. More and more worried and even more nervous as anxiety pools in her gut as she glances at the files that she'd somehow- impossibly!- managed to abscond with. They were a disaster waiting to happen.
It was like holding ticking time bombs in her hands. And it's a bomb that she'll even be setting the timer to and strapping to her shoulders because-
"...Oh."
Quinn stares at the opened file in her hands, blinks slowly. Once. Twice. And then closes it and tucks it away.
Oh.
Is all she can really think to say- mind blank as she looks at the dawning sun from the ship's railing, the gently crashing waves of the Grand Line's beginning playing softly on her ears and helping to lull her thoughts back into calmer waters.
"Quinn, we're going to weigh anchor!"
"Mnh, okay."
Seems she had her answer then.
.
.
.
Quinn getting caught: O.O
Quinn, talking, but internally: omg stfu STFU why are you running your mouth- hE HaS A HaRPoON-?!
Then, Quinn from Crocus point of view: *is the female titan at first appearance*
And, because I've been getting this a lot, DON'T WORRY Quinn is gonna get stronger. I know the Luck Luck fruit can get super OP and has a lot of capabilities, she's going to be getting pretty capable sooner or later. I'm not planning on making her a damsel in distress and starting her off with just… knowing what to do/how to fight would be too easy/mary-sue-ish.
Growth will be ~slow and steady~.
And also, she shall be having more and more opportunities to be using her fruit soon. (I've had a couple people wanting her stronger or, at the very least, using her fruit a lot more. It's just that I don't want to make it the end-all-be-all.) In other news-
So, every five to ten chapters or so, I've been going back and rereading (skimming) the old stuff to see what things I've already written, alluded to, or set up in previous chapters. Because I'm forgetful. This is also the first time I've done so with an intensely critical eye over the interpersonal relationships and actions of each character, so I can try and see if there's any conflict I can touch upon, any loose ends, or anything that doesn't make sense and…
BOY. Do I see so many problems with this crew as is. And that's EXCLUDING obvious points of contention like Quinn's foreknowledge and everyone's self worth issues. I actually had to start a list because, while they're not major, they all make sense for each character as I've written them/intended of them, and are along the same vein AND make sense for the character at that point in time (which is how that woooorks) but… wow.
They're all just stacking up. One after another. You can see it coming to a head in this chapter!
First off. Quinn is way, way more unwittingly callous than I had realized. She has not been good at the moment (she has gone behind Ace's back multiple times and ouch, that's not good). And it's entirely due to her personality and what I had intended to be a significant part of her character which I am just ~loving~ btw. And, by that, I mean that I intended for her to: a) think that pride was an idiotic concept, and b) have pretty utilitarian views, and c) apathetic and not entirely emotionally intelligent enough to relate to people in certain topics, and, finally, d) she thinks she knows better or, at least, she thinks her way is the correct way.
Second. Kat, and this is probably the most obvious one, is steadily becoming extremely biased within the crews interpersonal relationships due to Quinn's outreach and support/building of a brother-sister type relationship. Which- is not good, since it's not currently geared towards his Captain. Other than, maybe, the fact, that Quinn's own loyalties lie with Ace.
Third. Spice has sort of been alienating himself from the others. Primarily due to his treatment of Quinn. As in, Kat doesn't see it as much more than bullying; Ace doesn't like that it appears that Quinn agrees with most of what Spice says about her, especially the negative things; and Quinn's own attitude has caused Spice to get pissed off because she doesn't defend herself.
I'm honestly a little stumped.
(I am having so much fun writing this and I was not expecting thattt. Sorry, I'm kinda fanboy/girl-ing over all of this right now, can't help myself!)
Because while I did intend half of these things- I didn't realize, until now, how actually problematic some of it is. (some weren't supposed to be points of conflict!) I don't know. I'm just airing my thoughts a bit here. Do you ever realize that, in hindsight, things that were supposed to be good or be funny or meant to balance things out can cause a lot of conflict in other, newer routes? I currently have no clue how to go about solving them *cough cough* or am totally going to exacerbate them.
If you want a list of specific moments in the last couple chapters I'm referring to, let me know- I can attach it to a reply on your comment!
Also, just to be clear, Crocus doesn't like Quinn because she's clearly hiding things, not being one hundred percent truthful, and is being manipulative (he's correct). But he also doesn't really understand what her motivations are, so I wanted to write it mostly from his perspective because he's viewing her differently from the others and more like she's an antagonist. And him asking Ace to tell her is 100 percent him trying to get Ace to notice and, also, if he wants a trustworthy crew, he thinks there should be a certain level of transparency since they- you know, might betray him if they were to find out who his father is.
Also, I didn't say what Rogers sickness is because, one, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS and, two, because finding out wasn't really the point of this chapter.
Please leave a review!~ It means a lot and it really helps motivate me to continue writing!
