If Bellamere could hear her now, Nami rued, she would surely wash her mouth out with soap.

And the worst part is, she grimaced, skidding a bit in the dirt and gravel as she took a turn a little too tightly to keep her balance, I didn't even steal anything! I'm bloody empty-handed!

That didn't seem to be much discouragement to the angry mob behind her. They'd apparently figured out both that she was the cause behind the bar fight, as well as being the one to (attempt to) rob their boss of his prize.

...Which, really, was far more intelligence and deductive skill than Nami had ever thought to attribute to them.

Stones turned under her feet, and Nami spat curses through tears as she tripped, stumbled, scraped up her hands- And surged back to her feet. She could not slow down. She could not slow down. To do so would be to get caught. The adrenaline and panic beating in tandem in her chest knew that was not an option. The Surge pirates had a reputation. The pen knife jammed in the elastic around her waist would be of little use as a weapon against them- But against getting caught, it was a damn better option.

The thought terrified her. It would mean failing. It would mean leaving everyone behind to Arlong's fragile mercies. Getting caught, however, scared her even more-

So I just won't get caught! Nami thought firmly, shoving all else in her mind aside with that single determination. So long as she could make it back to her foxhole at the edge of the city, she'd be safe. They were far too large to follow her through those tiny tunnels, and she would be able to use them to get all the way back to her little ship- Once she was sure they weren't following her anymore, that is.

Perhaps it was that thought that made her glance behind her again. She could hear them yelling, but it was hard to tell just from the sound alone how far behind her they were, or if they were yet flagging in the 500 meter dash she'd roped them into.

Because she was looking behind though, at flushed faces and raised weapons, she wasn't looking ahead - And so crashed straight into someone that she never even saw coming.

The surprised 'Oof' that she heard through the panicked ringing in her head didn't sound angry, just startled; So as soon as Nami had regained her balance, and the street had stopped tilting quite so much, she darted around them with a single shout of "Sorry!"

"Hey, wait a minute-"

Calloused fingers caught around her arm, and for a moment the panic rose up so loud and hard that she struggled blindly. It was only for a moment, however, because that was how long it took for her to realize that the grip that held her in place wasn't painful, nor was she being yanked or pulled anywhere in the seething rage she'd been expecting to bear the brunt of the moment she was caught.

Tears blurring her vision, she blinked up at the man who held her arm. She was out of breath, with sobs catching in her throat, and finding it quite impossible to speak. So she looked.

Dark red dress shirt, black tie, dark hair that had the barest hint of curls to it- Just enough to make it stick up like the ruffled feathers of Patna's chickens. The expression on his face didn't make sense- (Grief, surprise, anger, hope)

"You're..."

His voice was soft, gentler than she'd somehow been expecting- But what confused her the most was the tone, the tangle of something in it.

His grip slackened, and she pulled herself out of it, stepping backwards and raising her hands to her chest in that same confusion. For a single second they stared at each other, each searching the other for some sort of answer that they didn't even know to find.

"There she is!"
"Get her!"

Nami's eyes shot over his shoulder at the now rapidly approaching mob, and swore. She didn't even have a chance now, that head start was the only reason why she even-

"Go."

Nami made a confused sort of noise as her gaze snapped back to the man in red. He was picking up a hat she must have knocked off when she'd run into him, but she somehow knew his attention was still on her.

"I'll hold them off. Go."

She didn't understand. Not one thing about this man, not the grief and hope he'd looked at her before with, not the calm determination that he held now as he turned away from her to face the angry crowd in her place. She wasn't going to question that offer his order however.

She ran.

When she was quite sure the path ahead of her was empty of people, she allowed herself one, single, momentary glance back. She would never admit to herself that she was worried about him, and would happily explain away the relief at the sight that met her eyes. The awe, on the other hand, would stick around, gleefully free from explanation, a little longer.

The mob had stopped as surely as a boat moored by the tide. And if she wasn't mistaken, the fight she had expected to be horribly one-sided, still was, yes- But not in the Surge Pirates favor.

Today, she would later reminisce, safe in her foxhole, has been very, very strange.

(Something was happening, the wheels of fate were turning- A storm of change was coming, as surely and inevitably as the tide.)