HS: I can be unpredictable D: Or predictable! I prefer predictable lol It was an accident from Cora – something that will be delved into later so I don't want to release details now…there's more to come. This is definitely going to be taken slowly. : ) Painfully.

Naghi-Tan: Very much so – hopefully this chapter eases up on it! I'm actually not sure how long it'll be…DX Especially after this chapter. There's so much to sort through.

: : 3

"I have two tickets to the pro-ball game this Thursday," Shachi said, reaching in for a soda that the trio were examining from the outside. The large gas station was full of visitors from around the block, and Law debated water from cold tea. "I'm not going to use them. Plans changed."

"Not a date?" Penguin asked Shachi, already cradling junk food and various brands of energy drinks and Gatorade.

"Do I look like a man that dates?"

"Sadly, no."

"I'm not going to take that as an insult because it's true," Shachi mock wept, hugging his soda before looking at the label. "I can never find my name on these things…"

"I'll just have the coffee from the breakroom," Law decided, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he shivered. All of them were bundled up in winter coats and necessary accessories, the weather outside flurrying lightly.

"Have you given any thought to the thing we talked about?" Penguin asked him low as they headed towards the busy registers.

"It'll be fine," Law assured him tightly.

"Is that a yes or no, or a I Don't Want To Answer kind of answer?"

"Probably a bit of all."

"At least you aren't drinking," Penguin said with relief, the only sort he could truly find in the situation. "Did that guy drink it all?"

"Oh, absolutely. What a raging alcoholic."

Law found his attention caught suddenly by something outside the main windows. He swore it was Brook being carried by a man with surprisingly natural green hair, but the dog was wrapped up in a doggie jacket and a silly looking hat. The man was talking alongside another man with a brilliantly puffy winter jacket, both of them walking into the gas station. When they passed by to head towards the hot food counter, Law could confirm that it was Brook – the dog released a gentle "woof" once they passed by, his droopy eyes locked on Law.

Law turned away because this was none of his business. Penguin and Shachi moved ahead to purchase their drinks, talking animatedly between each other about their dinner plans. He focused on the packages of dried fruits and nuts on the rack near him, thinking about his bag of almonds at home. He'd forgotten to pack some, and Sanji hadn't left him any lunch bags on the counter. Not that he expected him to – just that one time had been unexpected, so to have experienced it once gently prompted him to wonder if it would happen again.

…Not that he'd eat it if it weren't from his list of approved meals.

…Just that to experience it again would be a pleasant surprise.

…But then again he could grow tired of Sanji's expectations in getting Law to eat.

…He'd end up distancing himself from his roommate if it came to that.

…He had no problem distancing himself from people that pushed him to do something he couldn't or wasn't ready to do.

…He was so tired of pushing people away because of this.

I need help, he thought vaguely, but refused to give it anymore consideration.

He heard the familiar sound of Brook's coughing barks, unable to help himself from looking in that direction. The dog was struggling to be released, looking in Law's direction – probably looking for his other owner. The man holding him looked puzzled as his pet pushed and flopped against him.

Brook escaped somehow, lunging towards Law with his tongue flopping out. His appearance caused expressions of fascination and disgust from other customers, and Law didn't want to be caught in some senseless drama so he strode away from the racks and headed for the main doors to wait for the pair outside. The dog followed him, his owner hurrying after him with puzzled commands.

The sidewalk outside was salted and slushy, and Law remembered that the dog had inverted paws and probably caught illness quickly. So he stopped short so the dog wouldn't follow him out there. Brook caught up to him with an expression of victory, pawing his foot before looking around with expectation.

"Sorry," the green haired man apologized, picking Brook up hastily. Brook struggled once more, head whipping from side to side with a seemingly anxious expression. "Does he know you?"

"No," Law replied flatly, squinting at him. "Is that a natural color…?"

Looking cross with the familiar question, he was pierced with a look. That expression shifted into some disdain. Brook 'woofed' again, looking at Law with some anticipation.

"Your dog is ugly," Law said, arms crossed against the cold.

"I wouldn't say that so freely," came the tentative reply. "You a human doctor, or vet?"

"Does it matter?"

"My dog is sick, so I'm taking him over there. Seems he caught a cold. He was outside for awhile while I was at work."

Law couldn't see Sanji leaving the dog outside of the house in this weather when he returned him, but he didn't know the circumstances. He looked at Brook with consideration, Brook panting lightly with troubled breathing. Law noticed the tan line on the man's ring finger as he fixed Brook's hat. He occurred to him that he had not seen a similar line on Sanji's finger.

He was aware he was being given a suspicious look so he attuned himself to the shorter man. "You weren't the one that dumped him, were you?"

Surprised at the audacious comment, Law replied curtly, "If I were his original owner, I would have killed him with my bare hands to cease his suffering."

A scowl was sent his way. Brook wiggled mightily, whining as he did so.

"He usually doesn't like to talk to strangers, so he must know you."

"I've called him 'ugly' a few times," Law admitted. "He must find it similar to an endearment."

He was given a startled look.

"What do you mean by that?" he was asked low, an expression of distress showing on that steely face. "How do you know him?"

Before anything more could be said, Penguin and Shachi were pushing over each other to look at Brook. The dog did recoil shyly away from their exclamations over his winter outfit, giving Law time to slip outside.

It's really none of my business, Law thought with agitation, reaching up to pick at his earrings.

When he finally returned home, he noticed the effort he had just maneuvering in through the front door with his overnight back. Every part of him felt weak and tired, and his mind was slipping into a fog only associated with an incoming depression. It happened from time to time, when he caught himself asking when it was time to look for help; when asking himself over and over for an answer as to why he continued doing this returned him no real answers.

Who's helping who, here? he thought as he dropped his bag onto the floor and glanced around for any sign of Sanji's presence. Everything was as he'd left it that other morning – quiet, still, cold. His blanket was curiously in the same spot he'd left it, which made him furrow his brow because Sanji always folded it and tossed it into his room whenever Law wasn't around.

Unsteadily, he put his keys away and set up his phone to charge. The same dishes were still stacked in the rack nearby, and while the refrigerator hummed mightily, he noticed that the same trash bag full of refuse was unemptied. He had to wonder if his roommate had disappeared without notice; imagining he were arrested violating the restraining order, somehow making amends with his ex – was that his ex? – kidnapped by the mob running the building to make rent. Imaginative things that he only glimpsed from tv shows.

He headed down the hall, looking at the closed door at the end. Curiosity made him brave, so he opened the door wide, thinking knocking would be pointless if his roommate was dead. He saw that Sanji was lying on his bed, facing the window. The reflection assured Law that Sanji was still alive.

"What?" Sanji grumbled, unmoving as he glared at Law's reflection.

"Sorry," Law apologized clumsily. "I thought I heard a rope creaking in here."

Sanji rolled his eyes mightily, but resumed staring out the window.

Law picked at his clean fingernails before tentatively asking, "So, were you successful?"

"…No."

At the thought of paying rent himself next month, Law figured it wouldn't kill his bank account, but he really needed to depend on someone. It was the only way to keep the shady people from invading his mail box and knocking at his door early in the morning.

"Apparently," Sanji said slowly, pushing himself up on shaking arms, "the way I got fired from my last job is makin' their rounds. Nobody hiring around here."

It occurred to Law that he had no idea what Sanji did. He knew he worked in a restaurant somewhere downtown, but that was it. He then noticed another important detail. His roommate was still dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing when he'd left for work that morning.

"Smells like death in here," he said flatly.

Sanji grunted, giving him a look. As he sat at the edge of the bed, Law noticed the piles of crumbled papers around his bed, as if each sheet had been balled and flattened out repeatedly then left to rot where it was thrown. One of the pages declared Sanji as the defendant. It reminded him of seeing Brook the day before. He figured he shouldn't bring that up, now.

"Please don't kill yourself in here," he said tightly. "It might inconvenience the mobsters running the place, and they'll charge me the cleaning fee."

"Shut up. What are you doing here so early?"

"'Early'? Are you drunk?"

"I've been two days sober so far."

"And my shift is finished, so I'm allowed to come home."

Sanji looked surprised, looking around himself for some confirmation. He brushed himself off, hands clearly needing to be busy. "Well, shit."

He made to get up but sat down heavily once more. Then flopped back onto the bed, staring out the window. Such intense silence passed before Law realized he was intruding, so he shut the door behind him and crossed over to his.

The next evening, as he was gearing up to fall asleep in front of a World War II documentary, Sanji finally emerged from his room. Law was startled at the emergence, looking at the hallway to see what mood his roommate was in but he heard Sanji's bathroom door close instead. The shower came on, and Law resettled in his favored spot on the couch. Wide awake now, he watched the documentary while scratching at the edges of his goatee, testing the thinning of the hair there.

Sanji came out nearly an hour later, sitting on the couch without saying anything. Law glanced at him tentatively, fists bundling up underneath his spotted blanket. He anticipated Sanji's question as the blond's face screwed up with distaste.

"It's about UFO's spotted in the skies during the war," Law said.

"I thought it was Captain America."

"No."

An hour passed before Law realized Sanji wasn't watching the tv, but staring at the spot where Brook often sat. It jiggled his memory to remember seeing him the other day. But he held himself from saying anything because it wasn't any of his business and he didn't want the responsibility of answering tens of thousands of questions that were sure to follow. Of course Sanji would want to know if the man holding onto Brook looked well, if he said anything, if his name was brought up…typical things Law saw on high drama reality tv shows.

At the same time, he felt compelled to at least say something. It was bad enough he was struggling with his own issues; the weight of the depression in the room fueled by two people was rather smothering.

He cleared his throat. "I know this place. I haven't been there in awhile. But I'm up for some oatmeal."

"You have some under your bed."

Law was pretty annoyed that this man had snooped through his goddamn room. But he couldn't be too mad – he pretty much knew every detail of Sanji's because he needed nail clippers that one time and –

"I don't feel like going anywhere," Sanji then muttered, rising up from the couch and returning to his room. Law waited for the slam of the door, but when he only heard the click of the latch, it left him with surprise.

The next afternoon, he barged into Sanji's room. The man was laying in the same position he had been the day before, so Law figured he wouldn't trouble him. He rifled through the drawers next to it.

"What the hell are you looking for?" Sanji snapped at him, unmoving.

Once Law found what he was looking for, he held up the package. "Triple A batteries. The remote is dead."

Sanji sat up to glower at him, lips held tight as Law struggled to open the package. He ended up snatching it out of his hands and ripping it open while Law tried not to look offended.

"I don't want to sound like an asshole, but any way about it is going to make me sound like one," Law then said. "But I've noticed you haven't been looking for a job."

"I know," Sanji snapped, practically throwing the batteries at him. His face tightened up and his voice broke in such a way that it made Law cringe. "But I can't seem to leave this goddamn room."

Anyone's expressed emotions made Law generally uncomfortable. But hearing that and knowing the circumstances that allowed him to understand this made him feel a tinge of something urgent. He was a clumsy person, selfish and absorbed in his own circumstances that often labelled him as brisk, unfeeling person by patients and their families, but it didn't mean he was that unfeeling. Just reluctant to express or allow any absorption of expression to affect him.

It made him uncomfortable to think that this human being was giving up after being angry for so long; to think he'd come home one day to the stench of death and dealing with the aftermath made him even more uncomfortable.

"I still want oatmeal," he said lamely. "I was going to go get some lunch."

Sanji looked at him suspiciously. "I've never seen you leave to get something to eat."

Law shrugged a shoulder.

Two hours later, they were settling in a booth at a restaurant nearly hidden from the main street. Sanji looked quite disgusted with the place, doing his best not to touch anything while his name brand clothes soaked up the rugged seats and smoky ambiance. Drunks sat at the counter, crackheads' heads and mouths twitched as they sloughed through their meals and a pair of tourists took pictures of their plates before eating loudly.

Law sat primly with his hands folded atop of the table, struggling to quiet the rising panic that made his pulse race and his stomach turn. He didn't want to do this – he didn't want to sit in another place where people would openly stare at him, where the pressure to eat something he really didn't want to would wind up on his mind for days. To eat or not, even if he trusted it, would leave him wanting and regretting at the same time.

A waiter sauntered up to their table, giving Law a disgusted look and Sanji a judgmental one. He tossed menus in front of him, knocking over a salt shaker and jiggling downturned mugs. "What you bastards in the mood for?"

"My usual, please," Law answered stiffly.

"That shit makes me sick," the waiter complained. He looked at Sanji when the blond looked at him with open distaste. "What's that look for, rich guy?"

"I can't decide whether your face is a face or an ass," Sanji replied. "Because it seems to talk and shit at the same time."

The waiter's face reddened while Law lifted his eyebrows with regret.

"This a soup kitchen, or a recyclable dump that takes other places' leftovers to serve?" Sanji asked, looking around. "Should I have brought my dirty needles and rubber ties with me to the table?"

"You're this close to havin' your food spit on," the waiter threatened him, index and thumb close together.

"Maybe it'll have some flavor! Bring me your lunch special, and if it turns out to be some pig slop from the meat market down there, I'm spilling it hot in your pants."

"You little shit fan, you think you can get this spectacular service anywhere else? I'll bring you a special plate and laugh while you eat it!" the waiter snapped at him before stomping off furiously.

Sanji looked at Law with an expression of disbelief. "You actually like it here?"

"The coffee is phenomenal," Law said lamely. "And though the oatmeal looks like something from 'The Golden Child', it's absolutely memorable."

"…Is that a movie?"

Law sighed, reminded of Sanji's age. As he always did, Law studied the spoon nearby and calculated how many bites were 'safe'. Another voice in his head told him to stop – he was exhausted by the effort. The silence between them was thick as Sanji scowled around him, light snow collecting in patches outside. Traffic moved slowly, the sidewalks mostly empty. Another man approached them with a sullen expression, dumping coffee into both of their cups.

"I don't want that," Sanji snapped, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

It took a few moments and a wipe up before the large man asked Law, "Is this a new one?"

"Almost two months," Law replied absently, picking up his mug. After blowing on it, he sipped and felt the relief spread through his cold veins.

"Drink it," the older man urged Sanji. "It'll allow you to shit out that dumb look on your face."

"What kinda shit service is this?"

"He's looking for a job," Law interrupted, settling his cold hands around the mug. "Do you know of any places in the restaurant industry that are hiring?"

"We're looking for a dishwasher. Minimum wage."

"Ah. That won't help – "

"I'll take it," Sanji said suddenly, leaning back against his seat. He glared up at the man that lifted one grey eyebrow to frown at him, giving his clothes a visual inspection.

"It was a joke."

"You offered, I'm taking it."

"We don't take your kind around here."

"I don't give a fuck. I need a job, you need a dishwasher. It's settled. When do I come in?"

"You gotta deathwish, you bastard?"

"If I die here, I'm taking all of you shitty people with me."

"Ah, Mr. Roronoa, perhaps there's something else out there for you – " Law interrupted when Sanji snapped at him, "That's not my name!"

"When do I start?" Sanji then asked the older man, gripping his coffee mug with all the strength of someone determined to break something. Law cringed.

"This weekend. 6. If you ain't here, I know where he lives," the older man snapped, Law looking alarmed.

"Fine. I'll be here by five thirty, so make sure that door's open or I'll kick it in." Sanji sipped at his coffee then nearly spit it out with an incredulous look at his full cup. But the older man walked away, refilling others with a similar attitude. Sanji looked at Law. "This has alcohol in it."

Law was shocked, looking at his nearly empty cup with alarm. "No wonder it tastes great."

"You lack tastebuds, dumb ass?"

"Maybe you should reconsider the job offer," Law said slowly. "It won't pay rent."

"I don't plan on being a dishwasher for long," Sanji muttered. "I'm going to take over the place. Turn it around to something that isn't so fucking dirty and disgusting."

Law lifted an eyebrow. But he didn't doubt that determination on the younger man's face. He looked like someone who intended on following through with his word. Frankly, it was too much energy to deal with.

"I'll kill the old man, collect his insurance and have more than enough to pay rent for a few months."

"You just accepted the job offer, and you're already speaking like the workers, here."

Sanji drummed his fingers atop of the table, ignoring the comment. Law thought that at least this anger was productive – it was much better than the uncomfortable silence from earlier. Now that he knew what his coffee was made of, he felt panic slide through his bones. It'd be two bites less he'd have to take –

He closed his eyes with concentration, trying to will that annoying little voice away. He didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to feel it, he didn't want to continue thinking with such panic and precision. He was tired of calculating, he was tired of feeling tired. He wanted to eat a meal comfortably and be at peace with what he was doing.

Why was he still doing this?

"If it's the usual restaurant slop, eat five," Sanji muttered from the side of his mouth while glaring at the kitchen cooks glaring back at him, the older man telling them something that obviously pissed them off. "If you put anything in it, eat three."

Law looked at him sharply.

"At least," Sanji continued, looking as if he were prepared for battle, "that will make things easier when you're looking at it. But I bet it's the Walmart packets stuffed with brown sugar and milk, so don't even waste your time with five. Choose three."

"And if it's not?"

"What is 'The Golden Child' about?" Sanji then asked him curiously. Law looked at him blankly. "The way you said it makes me feel sick. You tend to joke about death and shit a lot, so I feel that this has something to do with food and body parts."

"Close. And you just challenged them to spit in your food, intending on eating it, so what is the difference?"

"It's different seeing shit on movies than seeing it in real life," Sanji said with a sick expression, hand over his stomach.

Law stared at him for the contradiction.

"Not many people encourage my bad habits," he then said slowly, picking up his nearly empty coffee mug. "So why are you?"

"I'm going to take over that apartment. I refuse to be homeless."

Law tightened his lips as Sanji once again looked at the kitchen with determination. Despite himself, he almost felt like laughing. The dark humor felt more warming than the coffee did.

"So," he said, lowering his mug to the table without taking a drink, "what should I call you?"

Sanji's face seemed to fall, and Law felt he made a clumsy mistake. That dark aura around the younger man returned to weigh his shoulders down, the bags of his eyes to stand out.

"Vinsmoke," he said on a low croak. "That's…that's my name."

Law looked startled. " 'Vinsmoke'? But isn't that the name – ?"

"We're estranged, alright? I don't talk about them, they don't talk about me."

"Some people keep their married names long after divorces," Law said awkwardly.

"Why would I want to keep something that never belonged to me in the first place?"

Law didn't have an answer to that. All the things that he'd listed to release as some form of pleasant conversation promptly left him. He was done socializing in a social place. He was sure to offend the angry young man even further with anything more.

Sanji bitterly picked at a scrape on the old table. He then cleared his throat. "You bring roommates here a lot?"

Law thought of his last roommate. "He knew of this place, actually."

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know. He left one morning in a rush with too much cash on the table. The FBI came in a day later with some questions, but I had no answers. Made the building nervous. Something about arms dealing, but since nothing ever came of it, I…don't think about it too much."

Sanji looked at him with consideration. "Huh."

"I saw Brook the other day," Law then said, unsure why the words left his mouth. Sanji straightened up with a puzzled look. "He…was being taken to the vet. He was sick."

"Who was he with?"

"Some guy with green hair."

Sanji looked like he was stabbed in the chest. His mouth opened with more questions that Law surely couldn't answer but he closed it with some mighty effort. Law watched him warily, waiting for the drama to follow. But Sanji closed up instead.

Their food arrived moments later, slaps of plates and bowls on the table occurring with the threat of breakage.

"Finally!" Sanji snapped, looking at the waiter. "I thought I was going to have to go cook this shit myself."

"You should've! We could've held a welcome party right then and there!"

Law examined his oatmeal, prodding the top of the steaming oats with the curve of his spoon.

"Quit looking for blood!" the waiter snapped at him before whirling away.

Sanji looked at Law with some terror.

: :

A few days later, Law was greeted by Brook as the dog waddled towards him. Struggling with his bag, Law looked at the dog with surprise. He saw veterinarian labeled bags on the counter, dog food and what looked like crumpled pieces of paper. The dog's tail stub wagged mightily as he investigated Law's overnight bag, leaving behind traces of drool as he did so. Law gently nudged him aside as he hung his jacket up.

With how happy the old man was, Law couldn't resist a single pat atop of the animal's head. Brook licked him before turning and waddling towards the couch, looking back at him expectantly. Law wondered where his owner was, hearing nothing from the end of the hall or the bathroom. He examined the bags on the counter, noticing that it contained the animal's seizure medicine and some cold meds. He found it interesting that an animal could have cold medication.

Then he realized that it was the first day of Sanji's job, and wondered how the man could think he could rely on Law to take care of an animal he was interested in taking care of. He looked to the dog with trepidation, Brook watching him from the living room.

"Woof!" he said.

Law felt like he was being entrusted to do something more than just surgery. He had no idea how to take care of something other than his disorder. Panic lit his veins. He thought to contact Sanji angrily about this, but he remembered Sanji had yet to replace his phone. He looked around the place he'd lived in for some years, struggling to think coherently.

Brook waddled back over to him and sat, looking at him with a tilt of his big head. One of his inverted paws touched his snow covered shoes, the weight of it obvious against Law's foot. Law searched for instructions on how to care for the creature, alarmed at the lack of it.

He looked down at the dog, hearing its labored breathing. The dog looked fat and happy, if not deformed in various areas. Law stood stiffly, mind blank. Was he expected to clean up after the dog if he had an accident? Was he supposed to walk him? Walk him where, exactly? Did he have a leash?

His stomach grumbled noisily at that moment. He carefully stepped around the animal to wander into the kitchen. It was full of prepared meals, two of them labeled with "Warm up – five min."

Because it looked like soup, Law took one and followed instructions. Brook waddled around his feet, breathing heavily as the surgeon struggled to think. He looked at the animal with caution, wondering if it were capable of some type of dangerous savagery. Brook's mouth fell open with a wide smile, looking up at him with expectance, but Law didn't know what to give him.

Once the microwave called out, he carefully removed his soup and ate at the counter. He couldn't stop thinking about the oatmeal. It had seemed easier to eat after Sanji had told him to.

'Four bites because it's got brown sugar, salt and bits of blueberries,' he'd decided, taking a bite of it before Law had, earning a tremendous glare from the man. 'Just four, you big baby. You can do that, can you?'

And Law had. Plus two more because he was determined to taste the salt that Sanji had said was present. Oatmeal with salt? How was it possible? How could he have not noticed that there was alcohol in his coffee and salt in his oatmeal?

He thought about that meal a lot. Whether it was the strange company he'd had that day, the dramatics between Sanji and the kitchen workers – the strangeness of the overall day – the meal stuck with him the most.

It might not have been a step towards his recovery, but it left quite an impact on him. If he could do that, maybe he was capable of doing more. It felt strange for Law to accept that Sanji was assisting him with his disorder rather than buckling down and begging like the others did, but at the same time he recognized that Sanji wasn't helping his disorder – he wasn't aiding Law. He wasn't challenging him, he wasn't mocking him, he wasn't looking at him with disgust and worry – it caused fear inside of Law that he didn't recognize because he wasn't sure how to label it.

He ate the soup slowly, trying to figure out the mixture of tastes. The huge clumps of vegetables, the mystery meat that could have been some type of beef – he left half of it when the numbers started. It made him frustrated to think that he could be enjoying the meal and was instead of thinking of numbers. Brook sat at his feet, no longer watching him but breathing noisily and examining the floor with interest. Once he felt Law move, the dog looked up at him again. Law wondered if Sanji fed him, glancing for a bowl of some kind.

He didn't want to give him his food because perhaps Brook had a specialized diet. Plus he didn't want to encourage a dog's bad habits. He didn't know what to do with an animal.

He looked back at the soup and took some sips of the flavored liquid inside before abandoning it altogether. He headed to his room, Brook next to his feet. Law had to shut him out, shaking his head as he changed into his treasured house clothes. When he opened the door, Brook was waiting for him. He led the way to the living room, Law watching him before following. Brook settled on the floor against the couch and waited for the television to be switched on.

Once it did, the dog seemed to relax.

Law settled on the couch and pulled on his blanket. He found the Animal Planet channel and found it easier to watch the show with a dog breathing heavily at his feet.

It was a strange sort of comfort he did not want to get used to.