An hour was enough time for Sanji to take a shower and start preparing dinner. He checked in on the tiger every time he passed the room. When Law said the Companion would wake up groggy, he wasn't kidding.
Peeking through the glass, Sanji was treated to a strange but funny sight of a partially numb tiger trying to pull himself up from the floor. He stumbled over the chain, glaring at it with furrowed brows, before trying to stand up again. His leg muscles gave way, sending him tumbling face down on the ground. The cook struggled to stifle amused chuckles. In this state, the tiger really was no better than a house cat.
Eventually, the Companion's motor skills began to function as normal. Sanji checked in on him again, half was through making dinner. The tiger circled the new room, inspecting every inch he could reach on the chain. He tested the strength of the metal beam with his paws, and bit the length of chain between his teeth. He spotted Sanji through the glass, pupils narrowing into slits as he gave the cook a hard stare. His tail thumped against the wood of the floor, lashing from side to side. Somehow, it turned into a staring-contest, which Sanji was sure he would've won if the simmering from the stove didn't cause him to break eye contact. He returned to the kitchen, draining the pasta from a pot and finishing off the last touches to the sauce.
With the food ready, he returned to the tiger room with two plates balanced on one arm and a large bowl of water in his other hand. He hovered his bangle over the sensor. As soon as the door slid open, the tiger snarled, fur bristling around his neck. But when he spotted the plates of food his snarl faded.
Sanji stepped closer, slowly. The tiger wasn't backing away this time. He placed the bowl of water down and slid it across the table towards the other half of the room.
"Drink first," said Sanji. "You need to get those sedatives out of your system."
The tiger sat still, glaring at the blonde. Sanji rolled his eyes.
"Come on, your food's getting cold."
After a pause, the tiger took the bowl with caution. He downed the contents of it, water spilling out and running rivulets down his neck and chest, soaking the loose hospital vest Law managed to find as temporary clothing. Sanji bit his tongue and stopped himself from berating the tiger's lack of table manners.
The cook sat down on the other end of the table and slid one of the plates towards the cat. Sanji began to eat, but the tiger just sat still, watching.
"I didn't make it so you could just stare at it."
The tiger scoffed, but pulled the plate closer anyway. Sanji pretended to keep his focus on his food, but he listened as the tiger slurped up his dinner. Sure enough, there came that soft purring again.
"You know," said Sanji. "For someone so wary, you're awfully trusting of the food I give you."
Shrugging, the tiger spoke around a mouthful. "Why risk your life blocking the door just to poison me?"
"Hm. You're not as dumb as you look."
Sanji received a glare for that, but nothing more. The Companion seemed more interested in his food this time.
"I have to give you a name," said Sanji, after letting him eat in silence for a while.
Brows furrowed over as striped forehead. "Why?"
"Well, unless you want to be called 'Tigey' for the rest of your life."
"But why do you have to name me? Why can't I name myself?"
Sanji couldn't answer. The tiger took this as an opportunity to continue.
"It was the same for the others," he said, his voice rolling in a growl. "They all got named in the cages too. By you people. Every one of us did. But no one could choose for them-selves. Why?"
It was a lot of words to take it from someone who was normally quiet. Sanji twirled his pasta around with a fork in thought. If he was honest, Sanji didn't really have an answer.
"Well," the cook began. "If you want to name yourself, you can. Go ahead."
The tiger's scowl faltered. Slitted pupils dilated, as he glanced off to the side, ears tilting backwards. Sanji noticed his grip tighten around his fork. Then it struck him that perhaps the tiger couldn't physically name himself.
Companions were genetically created in every way. What's to say they weren't created with a built-in instinct of submissiveness? Just like when robots were first created, all with interfaces that were forced to follow the rule of robotics. Perhaps that was why Companions couldn't make many decisions for themselves that their owners could. It was all to benefit humanity, to ensure that they would still be the ruling species.
"What if I suggested names?" said Sanji, noticing the frustration pushing a deeper frown on the tiger's face. "You could pick one you like."
Scowl dispersing, the tiger's ears flicked forward. All attention drawn back to Sanji, his tail swayed in thought, before he gave the cook a curt nod. Sanji's mind rewound as far back as he could remember, back to his first time on shore at a port called Amaris.
"What about Roronoa?"
"Roronoa?" the Companion repeated, his baritone voice reverberating over the 'r's. "Why that?"
"That was the name of the first tiger I saw, when I was a child. She was a real tiger too. An animal, not a Companion."
The tiger frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Animals? They used to walk the lands, apparently, before the Great Hush. Different from you guys. Less..."
Human, was what Sanji wanted to say. But he stopped rambling when he caught the impatient look on the tiger's face. Maybe he wasn't interested in the history lesson.
"Well," Sanji continued. "What about it?"
"It's too long."
"We could always shorten it to 'Roro'."
The tiger gave him a narrow-eyed, straight-lipped stare. "No."
The cook chuckled. He leant forward on the table on his elbows, as a silence settled around them. The tiger returned to shovelling in his dinner. Sanji's eyes wandered down to where the shirt's collar hung low about the Companion's shoulders. He spotted the top of a scar, hidden under a brush of fur, jagged and gnarled by stitches. It looked like it disappeared diagonally down the rest of his chest, under the shirt.
"Any more bright ideas?" said the tiger. When Sanji looked up, he saw the Companion watching him with equal interest. The blonde glanced back down at the bit of scar that was visible. He noticed the shape of the stitching formed a haphazard 'Z' pattern.
"What about 'Zoro'?"
The tiger's tail swayed in thought. "Zoro," he repeated. Sanji was growing fond of the way the he rolled his 'r's.
It was hard to tell what expression was on the tiger's face at that moment. But Sanji thought it was calmest look he had so far. Save for the moment of meditation he had in Law's lab a few days back.
The tiger met his eyes again, his face scrunching into a sneer.
"I guess it'll do," he muttered.
Sanji let out a short laugh. "You're a pain in the ass, you know?" He collected the empty plates from the table. "I'll get you some more water."
Zoro hummed. "Do you have anything stronger?"
Sanji quirked a brow. "What, like booze?"
The tiger's face lit up, tail raised and ears perked upright.
"Be a good little kitty and I might treat you to a little alcohol," Sanji teased. Zoro threw the bowl at him, missing and hitting the wall in the hallway. Good thing it was plastic.
Sanji tutted and wagged his finger mockingly. Zoro's frown only deepened. He kneed the table, budging it slightly from its place, and turned to lie on side on the futon, his back to the cook. With a sigh, Sanji left the room, the glass door sliding shut behind him. He probably shouldn't spoil the tiger too much.