A/N: First of all, thank you SO much for the incredibly kind reviews- I was so surprised and happy that this was received so well, and can't thank you all enough for your compliments and words of encouragement. I'm having a blast writing this, so it means a lot to hear that others are enjoying the ride as well. C:

Secondly, many, many apologies for taking so long with the new chapter. I suffered from a bit of writer's block, and wasn't sure how to handle this particular point in the story- things are gonna get pretty crazy from this point forward, so I wanted to make sure I got it exactly right to set all of that up. I don't know if I succeeded in that venture, but if you guys enjoy it, then that's good enough for me. =)

Some people called it a sixth sense. Some people called it witchcraft. Some people said she was a robot alien sent to earth to use her interstellar climate radar to determine whether the planet had an acceptable atmosphere for breeding glixnardosaurs (or maybe that was just Usopp). But whatever the cause, the world knew all about Cat Burglar Nami and her uncanny ability to forecast even the most undetectable storms.

What they didn't know was that her skills were not just limited to meteorology.

Nami had a nose for trouble like Luffy had a nose for meat (and after years of training, Luffy could smell meat from about twelve islands away). So when she caught Robin straddling Franky to the floor, grinning like a teenager and tickling him purple with six sets of her arms—well, the navigator didn't have to be a robot alien for her something-is-up-radar to flare up a little bit.

At first she decided to let it slide—maybe Robin just wanted to spice things up a bit, though Nami couldn't see why the marriage of a cyborg and a woman who could clone every part of her body would ever need any more spice.

But that was before she found them on their bed after dinner that night, with the door wide open, and you could hear the redhead's jaw hit the floor when she realized what they were doing.

They were all cuddled up in their big purple comforter—Robin sitting between Franky's legs, leaning contentedly against his chest—and there was a look of intense concentration on his face as he leaned over her shoulder, steadied his hands, and painted her freaking toenails.

"He was even fanning the damn nail polish, like the fumes were gonna give her the Black Lung or something. I mean, who does he think he's married to?" Nami hissed, waving one hand to punctuate her accusations while she steadied her telescope with the other.

Zoro gave her a deadpan stare from his seated position on the crow's nest floor, clearly trying to decide whether or not he would get in trouble for leaving her to her delusions. After several long moments of watching the navigator fiddle with the knobs of her treasured instrument (she was too obsessively focused to care that he hadn't responded to her rant), he finally spoke.

"... So you woke me up to tell me that Robin is a sadist, and Franky is a whipped pansy," he said slowly, cocking an eyebrow before disgruntledly covering his eyes with his sweat towel. "… thought there was some actual news, forfuckssake-"

"Oh dear God."

The horrified tone of her voice was the only cue Zoro needed to spring to his feet and search the horizon for the object of her terror, preparing to pounce and maim whatever monstrosity was ahead. "What's wrong?"

Nami took a step back from the telescope.

"… They're fucking knitting together."

"… No they're not."

She shoved him toward the telescope, face white as a sheet, indicating a silent "see for yourself." He looked at her like she had just broken out into an unprompted tap dance, then obliged.

Sure enough, there they were, seated across from one another at one of the small tables on the grassy deck. Robin held a pair of long golden needles, gracefully winding them around one another as rows of yellow fabric seemed to materialize at her fingertips. Franky, on the other hand, was having much less luck, even with a spare pair of his wife's hands holding onto his and attempting to guide his clumsy needlework— on the table in front of him was a pile of something that looked like innards made of bright blue yarn, with some brown patchwork thrown in here and there.

Zoro stepped back, looking like he had just witnessed something dirty. Nami rubbed her temples, unconsciously pacing around and around the circular room.

"… I'll go get Luffy."

"DO NOT get Luffy." Nami whirled on him ferociously, the fire in her eyes making Zoro flinch a little.

"… Come again?"

"You underestimate that idiot. He'll waltz right up to them and ask why they're acting like… like Sanji," she shuddered, the mental image of Robin and Franky skipping across the deck chanting "Mellorine, Mellorine, Mellorine~" making her blood run cold. "We have to be quiet about this—it's Robin we're talking about here, she's not going to just tell us what they're up to."

Zoro was unconvinced. "And Franky?"

"Franky is the only man on this ship getting laid, and I think he'd like to keep it that way."

He frowned. "… Point taken."

The navigator picked up her telescope, wringing it dangerously as she walked to the door with fierce purpose. "If they think they can keep secrets on my ship, they're dead wrong. I won't rest until we figure out exactly what they're hiding…"

She stopped when she noticed Zoro reclining on the floor next to the weights, preparing to take a post-training catnap, and kicked him hard in the side. The swordsman shot straight upright with an uncharacteristically squeaky sound and a spectacular string of curses.

"When I said we," she growled, staring him down, "I meant everybody is helping out with this, or I'm adding ten thousand berries to their already long-overdue debt."

Zoro's eye twitched. And as Nami leered at him with nothing less than murder in her eyes, all he could do was pray to whoever was listening that this espionage scheme would end without awkwardness, incident, or that goddamn cook.

Thank you for reading!