The day was hot and uncomfortable with hardly a breeze coming off the water. Hurricane weather, as Mihawk described it. Mihawk was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the morning. He disappeared for a short time on the opposite side of Water 7 . Perona found herself feeling lonely. Well, as alone as one could be. Still, Perona couldn't see Mihawk. She was overwhelmed by the irrational fear that Mihawk would, somehow, never return. She would be lost and alone on the tiny island in the middle of the empty ocean. A shiver ran up and down her spine, despite the oppressive heat.

Her thoughts turned to Zoro. She was so worried for him and there appeared to be absolutely nothing she could do to help him at the moment. Mihawk been secretly smitten with Perona since the day they'd dragged her from the sea. She was noble, beautiful, courageous and even slightly mysterious. At that thought, an image of Mihawk flashed into her mind. Perona sighed in exasperation, yet she could not resist comparing the two men. Mihawk had also proved himself to be courageous, on occasion and she admitted to herself that he was, indeed, strikingly handsome. It was always a struggle not to loose herself in those intense, dark eyes of his, or not to return his self-assured smirks. She hesitated to label him noble, however; he was a pirate through and through.

Mihawk was a mystery to her as well, but for very different reasons. Perona was baffled by Mihawk's actions. One minute he was going out of his way to help another, and the next minute he seemed obsessed by naught but his own desires. There was no discernable pattern to his actions and that made her very curious as to what motivated Mihawk. He was self-serving, certainly, but not all the time. He often surprised her with his wit and quick-thinking. And then there was that ataxic swagger of his, throwing everyone off guard and distracting them from his cunning. She even found that his flamboyant movements added to his charm once you got to know him better. Mihawk was…complicated.

As Perona looked out over the empty stretch of water, she realized that it was impossible to compare Zorro to Mihawk. Zorro was a man, a good man. Mihawk was more akin to a force of nature. Being near Mihawk so far had been exciting, thrilling actually, and one never knew quite what to expect. He was like a pirate legend come to life. He made you want to believe in him. He inspired those around him to follow him willingly into even the most dire of situations. Capone Bege was quite a force unto himself, having gone against Mihawk which failed. She was inexorably drawn to Mihawk for this very reason. It was the reason she'd allowed him to kiss her on the beach this morning.

Or was it really that? Perona remembered the flash of vulnerability and longing she'd seen in his eyes this morning and it brought with it a rush of heat to her loins.

Perona shifted uncomfortably and tried to pinpoint exactly what is was about Mihawk….

Her thoughts were interrupted by Mohawk's voice from behind her. "Moping about, dearie." He tsked drunkenly. "Shouldn't you be gathering food or some such. Perhaps preparing a fine dinner?" He was swaying even more than usual. He must have been drinking heavily all through the morning and afternoon.

"I wasn't moping" she replied gruffly and plunked back down into the sand and stared again off to the sea. Mihawk's charm would not work this time. She'd had enough of his 'charm' this morning.

"You must be hungry, then." He came to stand over her and waved his arms towards the small cafe nearby. "A bountiful feast awaits you."

Perona shaded her eyes and scowled up at him silently, not in the mood for his drunken antics.

Mihawk tilted his chin up and cast his eyes down at her in one of his best wide-eyed, mock-affronted looks. Perona shook her head.

"Thirsty then, must be it. One has to drink plenty of liquids to stave off the heat." Mihawk offered her a bottle of rum.

"No thank you."

Mihawk sat down beside her and leaned in. "But I hate to drink alone."

"I said no thank you."

"Please."

His softly spoken plea surprised her and she looked up to find him smiling good-humoredly. What would it hurt, she told herself. She nodded her head and found herself returning his smile. Damn it all, the man was good.

The two of them drank rum all afternoon. Mihawk was cheerful and engaging, telling stories and jokes that had both of them laughing.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Perona asked him at one point.

"How could I forget, we both nearly died. Fine day that."

"You almost died? What, saving me from drowning?"

"Arent you glad i did?"

"Good point."

Perona snorted. "I am."

Mihawk leaned close. "I know, Why are you blushing, love?"

She remained quiet and tried to suppress her smile.

"Come on, love, that was the best time I'd had all week, all year probably. Pressed against a half-dressed and beautiful young lady who's busy unbuckling my belt."

"I was most definitely not unbuckling your belt."

"But you would have been."

"Your reasoning is seriously flawed," Perona told him in a haughty tone before she burst out into giggles. "Now please Mihawk, just shut up and drink your rum."

Mihawk raised the bottle in a sort of clumsy salute and brought it to his lips.

Perona watched him and thought back to that day. It seemed so long ago after all that had since taken place. She'd thought him exotic and strange with his black hair and eccentric garb. However, her anger quickly dissolved into embarrassment. Much to her horror, she'd felt a thrill run through her at being pressed so closely against the smirking pirate swordsman.

She looked at Mihawk now, sitting across from her on the beach and thought that he seemed just as exotic as ever. A grimy, deceitful pirate had no business being that good-looking.

Mihawk must have felt her eyes on him because he tilted his head toward her in a playful fashion.

"Still reminiscing about our first kiss me, love?" He gave her a mischievous smile.

"Certainly not! I was only wondering how long it's been since you brushed your hair."

"Ghost girl, no lies between us now."

"It's Miss Ghost girl to you, Captain."

"Back to that, are we, love." He gave her a wink. "As I've said. Give it time. And a little rum." He held the bottle up in a silent toast before he took another swig. "Go on, then. Drink up."