Sanji hunched over his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, silently willing his pounding headache to disappear. However, his lack of caffeine and the voice screaming at him through the phone weren't doing him any favors… He interrupted the angry stream of words in frustration, "I'm not saying you need to ask my permission, but that money is our joint business account. You really can't just go using it from your personal reasons, dad!"

"I'm going to replace it when I balance the books on Sunday." Zeff wasn't screaming anymore, but Sanji could tell that he was still pissed from his sharp tone, "I don't see what the problem is."

"The problem…" Sanji shuffled through the papers on his desk, tucking his phone between his shoulder and his ear, "Is that you fucking bailed out that piece of shit, Caribou, even though this is the second or third time he's been arrested for possession. You know as well as I do that he's probably even dealing out of the back door of your fucking restaurant!"

Zeff was quiet for a moment, and Sanji shifted to hold his phone again as he looked over the order statement in his hand. The older chef sighed, "He would have lost his apartment. He just needs the chance to make some decent money to pay his gambling debts and make a clean break with his old friends."

Sanji ground his teeth, "You need to stop trying to save every gang member and fucking criminal that comes through your door! Not everyone can be helped! It's high time you hung up your apron and sold that rathole so you can go on those wine cruises you used to talk about..."

"Maybe if you could take your selfish, stupid head out from where you have it shoved up your pretentious ass, you could see that there are more important things than money! You know what it's like for these boys, and no one else is going to cut them a break. You'll get your fucking, precious money so just keep your damn panties on!"

"It's not…!" Sanji dropped the document in his hand and gripped his hair in frustration, "I don't have time to argue with you about this. I need to finish up here. Just please stop fucking giving all our capital to the fucking cops?"

Zeff's response was to hang up without even a goodbye, and Sanji had to fight to resist the urge to scream curses and throw his damn phone at the wall. He understood what the old man was trying to do. He really did. No one knew better than the two of them how hard it was to get free of the shackles of poverty, homelessness and gang ties. However, Sanji also knew that those bastards his old man kept writing checks for out of the goodness of his shriveled, old heart were just playing Zeff for a fool. Honestly, Zeff probably knew it well too, but the shitty codger was even more stubborn than Sanji, and there was no way he'd give up trying to save their asses if he thought there was even the tiniest chance that he could help those guys find a better way of life.

Resigning himself to the aggravation that came from dealing with the old man with a heavy sigh, Sanji put his bills, receipts and other paperwork back into their folders before locking them all away in his desk. He powered down his laptop and slipped it into his leather attaché case before shouldering the bag's strap and stalking down the hall toward the kitchen. It was far from the first time that he'd had this argument with Zeff, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. One of these days the old man's careless brand of charity was going to bite him in the ass, and Sanji just hoped that it didn't end with a bullet in their backs.

Still in a foul mood, Sanji kicked open the swinging, double-doors and marched straight up to his head chef, Jessica. Feeling too frustrated too bother to waste any niceties on his close friend and employee, he snatched the clipboard full of papers she was inspecting out of her hands.

She wasn't disturbed in the least by his rudeness - after nearly a decade of working together there was nothing he could throw at her that she couldn't handle without breaking a sweat. She merely leaned back against the prep table and crossed her arms, waiting with a cocked eyebrow. It was precisely this cool and tough, confident attitude that was why he doubled her Christmas bonus every year. He flicked his gaze over her neat handwriting and felt the stress and pent-up fury in his body begin to ease as he could clearly see that Jess hadn't overlooked a single detail. He nodded in satisfaction before scribbling his initials in approval on her proposed specials for the next day, "I don't even need to ask if you've double-checked the menu for the senator's dinner party tomorrow."

Jessica snorted and plucked her clipboard back out of his grasp, "I'm already up to quintuple-checking. Also I took the liberty of preparing a complimentary bottle of the Domaine de Chevalier."

Sanji hummed thoughtfully as he came closer to glance at her notes once more, "Good call. But please offer the senator the Contador instead. We can't be giving him the same gift as the rest of his shitty cronies."

"Of course." Jessica made the note at the top of her papers before waving Sanji off, "I can't finish my inventory if you're going to hover there like some pathetic ghost. Go the hell home and think about sleeping? We both know your ass will be in here early tomorrow anyway."

Sanji raised an eyebrow, "You have no room to lecture me on my sleeping habits!"

Jessica rolled her eyes, "Well unfortunately the shitty restaurant owner has hired a bunch of drooling idiots to work in my kitchen. So I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

Grinning broadly, Sanji called over his shoulder as he headed for the back door, "You should tell that shitty owner to give you a fucking raise and a paid day off!"

The red-haired chef didn't even look up from her clipboard as she casually flipped him off, "As if you would, you tight-ass miser!"

Sanji chuckled as he grabbed his plastic cooler full of leftovers sitting on one of the prep counters. The staff were all allowed to take home as much extra food as they needed after the night was done. That was one habit he got from the old man that he had no desire to change. He could never let anyone under his employment go hungry when there was always food to spare.

As he hefted the cooler with one arm and opened the back door, Sanji found himself thinking about that miserable cashier at the Sunny Mart. He couldn't help but wonder what the bastard had thought of his restaurant's food. No doubt he'd try and spout off some bullshit about it being bad. Not that Sanji cared about the opinion of a shitty cashier. The fucker probably wouldn't know a quality dish if it slapped him in the face. However, since he'd personally perfected each item on his menu, Sanji felt a certain responsibility for educating that classless fuckwit on the finer points of cuisine - even if he had to fucking cram it down the bastard's throat with his foot.

Sanji tapped the key remote in his jacket to unlock his car, and skillfully balanced the box of food on one hand as he opened the passenger's side door to place the box on the seat. Tomorrow he'd drop it off at one of the local soup kitchens on his way to work - the early hour was never an issue since the staff of the facility on Fourth and Chestnut had given him the combination to the back door months ago. He had plenty of food in his refrigerator at home right now, and he really he was happier knowing that these leftovers would be going to help people who deserved a good meal.

Getting into the driver's side of his car to go get his coffee and smokes, Sanji suddenly wondered if that cashier would even be at the store today. The scowly bastard had seemed pretty sick yesterday, and if he had any sense he'd have called out of work, taken some cold medication and slept through the day. Sanji snorted to himself. The guy seemed to be almost as much as a workaholic as he, himself was so he'd probably be there, but it would be a nice change to not have to see that ugly mug after a long, hectic workday; especially if the far more personable, miss Nami was working instead...

Putting the jaguar in gear, Sanji backed out of his reserved parking spot and turned onto the main road. He set a course for the Sunny Mart as he turned up the volume on his radio to hear the traffic report. The one good thing about getting out of work so late was that the drive across the city to his apartment always went so much smoother. As he pulled into the Sunny Mart parking lot, Sanji could see that damn cashier's obnoxious, green hair through the large front window of the brightly lit store. The fucker was obviously still sick as he hunched over behind the cash register coughing.

Sanji began to feel irritable all over again. Sick people should stay the fuck home and keep their goddamn diseases to themselves… Although as he parked and got out of his car, Sanji couldn't help the little flash of memory of how Zeff had worked even while sick to keep the Baratie's doors open… His ire lessened somewhat as he watched the fucker looking truly miserable as he rang out some old lady's stack of canned cat food before leaving the counter with an unsteady gait. Maybe this bastard didn't have a choice either. Maybe he had something he needed to protect.

Or maybe the guy was just a disgusting, inconsiderate dumbass. As Sanji entered the store, he was horrified to see the cashier fumbling with the coffee filter and grounds. The fucker definitely hadn't washed his fucking hands. Regardless of whether or not he was sick as hell, this idiot had just been handling money and god-knows what else too! Sanji scowled as he watched the shitty cashier double over with a fit of nasty, harsh coughing as the coffee machine's basket shook in his hands. Striding up behind the diseased fuckwit, Sanji snapped, "Fucking hell… Don't get your shitty moss germs in the coffee, asshole!"

He saw the cashier's shoulders tense, indicating that he'd heard Sanji's reprimand, but the fucker didn't reply as he straightened and swiped at his mouth with his arm before grabbing a nearby rag to quickly brush spilled coffee grounds off the counter with one hand. Sanji watched in horror and disgust when the bastard went to shove the contaminated coffee basket into the brewer with his other hand. "Oh my god, are you seriously just going to put that in the machine?! I just saw you fucking cough all over it!"

To his relief the cashier pulled the coffee basket back from the machine with an irritated jerk. He turned to Sanji with a dark look and protested, "I did not!"

Sanji sneered with a pointed look at the contaminated coffee grounds in the dumbass cashier's hands, "And you put way too much in there. Did you even wash your hands before pouring that in?" He watched the guy squirm in discomfort as he stupidly searched for a snarky comeback. However there was no fucking excuse for ignoring basic food safety. Sanji placed his hands on the counter, leaning in with a stern expression as he snapped, "Fucking neanderthal… I'm not drinking that contaminated shit! Go throw it out and then wash up before you try again."

The stubborn bastard curled his lip and shot back, "No one says you have to drink it. Please, go piss off to some other store."

Rolling his eyes at the childish jab, Sanji straightened and crossed his arms, "That's no way to treat your valuable customer. You're absolute shit at this job, you know? Why the hell do you work here anyway?"

"S'none of your damn business."

Sanji watched as the sulking bastard pinched the top of the full coffee filter to keep it from spilling as he plucked it out of the basket. Satisfied that he'd gotten his point through the cashier's thick skull, Sanji casually slipped his hands into his pockets. He tried not to think about how much his feet ached after working all day and keeping his shitty staff from fucking up his business. If it weren't for the fact that this place was along the way on his daily commute, and that they were one of only a few stores that carried his preferred cigarette brand, Sanji would just fucking buy himself one of those coffee brewers that had a programmable timer. It certainly would save him wasted time trying to balance the taste when this idiot put in too many grounds. Although if the employees here weren't washing their hands when they should, Sanji might have to buy a damn coffeemaker anyway. He sighed through his nose and resolved to talk to the lovely miss Nami about her shitty employees when he came by in the morning.

A small stumble caught his attention, and Sanji suddenly noticed how badly the shitty cashier was shaking as he threw out the contaminated coffee. Sanji looked him over with a sharp eye, noting how pale the guy appeared. He really shouldn't be working today… "You look terrible."

The cashier shot him a dark look and made a sharp, meaningless gesture that only communicated his general annoyance at Sanji's refusal to let this shit drop before fucking finally going over to the nearby sink to wash his hands. Sanji smiled smugly to himself as he listened to the filthy idiot muttering curses while he cleaned up. Maybe the bastard would fucking remember to wash his damn hands from now on.

Watching as the cashier put a new, clean filter into the coffee basket, Sanji absently dug his gold-plated zippo lighter out of his pocket and turned it over in his palm rhythmically as he traced the embossed design in the metal with his thumb. His thoughts returned to their earlier track as he wondered what this guy had thought of his restaurant's food. He cleared his throat before asking, "So… Did you reheat the food I gave you properly?"

"I don't have time for that shit. Luffy ate most of it anyway." The cashier turned with a challenging look in his eyes.

"I see…" Sanji flipped the lighter over in his palm to trace the other side. He felt irritated that this ungrateful bastard had ignored his good intentions and fucking given away his food. He'd been trying to help the guy out after he'd given his dinner to a homeless man, but instead this guy had gone and also given away what Sanji had gifted him. The fucker was either incredibly generous, or he really fucking hated Sanji that much.

"The pie was fine."

Sanji blinked in surprise. That was almost a compliment. Maybe this guy did actually appreciate Sanji's gesture of goodwill - even if he was too stubborn to come out and say so... Smiling a little to himself before scoffing dramatically, Sanji slipped his lighter back into his pocket, "My pie is the fucking best in the city, you heathen."

The cashier amiably rolled his eyes before glancing up to the front of the store and scowling at the irritated customer waiting at the unattended register. He jerked his hand toward the coffee before muttering, "It'll be ready in few minutes."

Sanji nodded understandingly before pulling out his phone to see if there were any new Yelp reviews about his restaurant. He was distracted from reading a glowing recommendation of his appetizers when the cashier started violently coughing again. It was a worryingly deep and wet sound. Sanji looked up to see the cashier clutching his side, wheezing pitifully between harsh, barking coughs as he stumbled forward. The blond saw the moment when the poor bastard tripped, and he rushed forward to help even before the cashier hit the floor.

He had rolled to his side, but he wasn't moving to get up when Sanji reached him. Frankly the chef wasn't surprised. He'd impacted the ground pretty hard, and it had looked like the poor guy had barely been able to throw out one arm in time to try and break the fall. Sanji crouched beside the injured man where he'd partially curled in on himself in pain. The chef immediately noticed the blood streaming from the cashier's swelling nose, and he quickly swiped on the screen of his phone that he was still holding in one hand and prepared to call for an ambulance.

"Don't…" The cashier began to try and sit up; his bloodied face was red and tear-tracks were staining his cheeks, "M'fine. No hospital."

"Like hell you're fine!" Sanji snapped, but he put his phone away despite his better judgement, "Where the fuck is your shitty boss?!" Looking around Sanji didn't see anyone else beside the openly staring customer at the counter. Sanji stood and strode over to the office; however he didn't see the owner through the open door, so instead he barged through the 'employees only' entrance to the back room. He found the owner staring at him with startled, guilty eyes with an open box of powdered, mini donuts on the table in front of him - sugar coating his fingers and face. Sanji jerked his head back toward the shop floor, "Your man there fell pretty hard. He hit his head and I'm guessing he probably has a shitty concussion."

The owner jumped to his feet with alarm in his eyes, "Zoro's hurt?"

Sanji stepped aside to let him pass as the slighter man rushed through the backroom door before he followed the owner back out into the store. The cashier was sitting up now; holding a bloody wad of napkins to his nose as the other customer pulled another handful out of the dispenser on the counter. The store owner rushed over to his injured employee while Sanji lingered nearby with his hands in his pockets. He listened to the owner's worried questions as he watched how the cashier tried to hide his pained reactions with every small movement he made. Finally the owner nodded his head decisively, "Okay you gotta go to the hospital to get checked out."

The cashier scowled as he argued, "I said I'm fine. I don't fucking need to go to the hospital!"

"Zoro," The owner's tone was as serious as his sharp gaze, "You don't have a choice. You fell at work, and you might have hurt your head real bad. You have to go."

The cashier looked down at the tacky puddle of blood staining the floor tiles as he kept the red-soaked napkins against his nose, and Sanji could practically feel his frustration, "I know that, Lu, but I don't have…"

The owner interrupted him gently, "It's a work-related incident. Take my card. Our insurance will pay me back for this." After a second the lanky young man added, "And make sure you get whatever you need for your cough too."

The act of open generosity tugged at Sanji's heart as he saw how the cashier looked up at his boss with a vulnerable expression of relief and gratitude in his eyes. The store owner pulled out his wallet and slipped it into the cashier's palm. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Sanji spoke up, "I can take him to the hospital. He shouldn't be driving like this, and that way he doesn't have to wait for an ambulance or whatever."

The store owner gave him a bright smile, "Thanks, Sanji!" He clapped the cashier on the shoulder before standing, "I'm going to go call and let your babysitter know that you'll probably be home late. It always takes forever every time I go to the ER!"

Sanji offered the cashier a hand. The injured man hesitated a moment before accepting the help; relying heavily on Sanji's grip as he slowly climbed to his feet. More blood trickled from his nose and down over his chin when he nearly fell over again, and flailed out the hand clutching the bloody napkins for balance. Sanji let him pull his other hand away, but he stayed close as the poor bastard wobbled perilously on his feet, "You have everything you need?" The cashier nodded slowly as he pressed the napkins to his nose again, before wincing in pain. Sanji kept a careful eye out that the guy wasn't going to collapse again, even as he slipped a hand back into his pocket to restlessly run his fingers along the warm metal of his lighter, "Well then let's get our asses on the road."

"Hey Sanji!" He turned just in time to see the store owner toss a pack of cigarettes his way. Catching them in midair with his free hand, he saw that they were his usual brand. Grinning broadly at him, the store owner adjusted the brim of his yellow ballcap, "That's on me today. As a thank you for helping Zoro!" He nodded at miserable cashier, "Go get fixed up! Don't forget you gotta call me and let me know what the doctor says!"

The cashier grumbled a vague agreement as he kept his wad of napkins in place. Having no desire to pay to have blood removed from his car - and even less interest in having to explain why it was fucking there in the first place - Sanji took a quick detour to snatch a generous handful of paper napkins out of the holder by the register before he followed the cashier out of the store.

For once the bastard was completely silent. He didn't have any snarky insults when Sanji opened the passenger door to let him get in. Sanji got into the driver's side, strapped in, and pointedly stuffed the clean napkins into the passenger's side cupholder before he put the jaguar in gear. The cashier just slumped against the car door, sullenly sniffling into his fucking bloody napkins as Sanji pulled out into traffic.

Sanji turned down the radio until it was only background noise and impatiently tapped his fingers on his steering wheel. His mind was full of questions right now, but he settled for blurting out only the one that had him the most curious, "So you have a family?"

The cashier's eyes narrowed as he looked over at Sanji. The blond shrugged his shoulders as he quickly added, "He mentioned that you have a babysitter back there so I thought… How many kids do you have?"

Rolling his eyes, the cashier turned back to the window, "That's none of your damn business. Turn here. You're gonna miss the hospital, blondie."

"I know where to turn! There's a fucking huge sign, you damn ingrate! I didn't have to drive your ass here you know!" Sanji shot his passenger an angry glance before flipping on his blinker and viciously yanking on his wheel to careen around the corner.

He smirked as the cashier flailed a little in his seat from the unexpected jolt. He curled over and coughed deeply for several seconds before gasping for air and glaring up at Sanji with watery eyes as he snapped, "Fucking watch it, cyclops!"

"Saaaaanji. My name is Sanji. Or Mr. Baratie to uncouth, green mutants like you."

The cashier curled his lip in a sneer, "At least I'm not a pretentious, emo prick who thinks he's better than everyone!"

"Well now I might just have to drive my very expensive car home to my luxurious penthouse and cry into my feather pillow over that." Sanji flashed his teeth in a smug grin as the cashier's scowl deepened, "You really hurt my feelings, and here I am being nice to your snotty ass..."

The cashier flipped him off before smirking, "Only if this piece of shit doesn't break down again. And you missed the hospital entrance, your fucking highness."

Cursing, Sanji screeched into a u-turn; causing the drivers around them to honk wildly in outrage. He kept spitting out every expletive he knew in several languages as his shitty passenger looked infuriatingly satisfied. He slammed on the brake in front of the ER entrance and let the vehicle idle as the cashier climbed out. The green-haired bastard lingered a moment, coughing a little as he clung to the open door. Then he surprised Sanji by turning and giving him a quick nod, "Thanks for the ride."

"Sure." Sanji blinked as the cashier shut the door and shuffled toward the hospital's automatic doors. Fidgeting his fingers against the leather of his steering wheel, Sanji hesitated to pull away.

He glanced over to see the shitty bastard through the glass doors, weaving on his feet like a damn drunk as he approached the check-in and he made up his mind. Quickly finding a parking space, Sanji got his laptop bag out of the back before clicking the automatic lock. The food would be just fine in the cooler for a few hours if need be. He just couldn't leave that asshole stranded here, and it wasn't like he had any grand plans at home besides the usual researching suppliers, responding to emails and looking through other people's shitty recipes on Pintrest.

Taking a few minutes first to enjoy a smoke outside, Sanji threw out his spent butt and went into the ER. It was easy to spot the cashier's dumb, green hair in the crowd of other unhappy looking patients impatiently eyeing the busy nurses around them from their seats. The big lug was frowning as he was filling out some papers on a clipboard. Sanji sat down across from him without saying a word, and pulled out his computer.

He was well into typing out a reply to a certain wealthy businessman's employee - regarding questions about the entree choices for dinner meeting he was scheduling for next month - before the sorry-looking bastard he'd dragged here even noticed him. Sanji could feel the irritation radiating from the cashier's tense stance as he loomed over him with a scowl, "What the fuck are you doing?"

Schooling his face into a bland expression, Sanji glanced up into the rude bastard's stormy, black eyes, "Well Mr. Gin here seems unable to grasp the simple concept that if he wants to change the menu for his shitty dinner party then he will also have to consider a different selection of wines. Because fish and steak are…"

"Don't fuck with me! Why are you still here?"

Sanji rolled his eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you wanted to fucking walk back home to whatever shitty cave you live in. Maybe you can fall on your face a few more times and improve your looks."

Speaking through gritted teeth, the cashier's hands tightened into fists, "I don't need your fucking help, asshole. Go the fuck away and find some serial killer hitch-hiker to drive around!"

Taking a moment to save his email draft, Sanji closed his laptop and asked seriously, "So how are you getting home? Are you paying for a cab? You planning on having that babysitter or whoever drag your family here? It's already past midnight." Sanji observed how the cashier's facial muscles twitched unhappily at his words and he added gently, "I'm already here. There's free wifi, and all I was planning to do at home tonight was work on this shit anyway. Let me drive you home and you can owe me a decent cup of coffee sometime."

The cashier's expression was calculating as he looked down at Sanji - considering. Finally he went and sat back down in his chair with a groan, "Fuck you and your shitty coffee…"

Sanji grinned before opening his laptop once more. As he finished up his email, he asked conversationally, "You don't drink coffee?"

"Hell no."

A fit of violent coughing made Sanji look up in concern. The cashier was clutching his side like he was in pain as he wheezed and hacked until his face turned red. The blond frowned, "Hey, did they say how long you would have to wait? You sound even worse than you look."

Sitting back up and slumping down into his seat in obvious exhaustion, the cashier, shrugged and fiddled absently with the nametag still on the front of his bloodstained store uniform, "She said they are pretty busy tonight and it could be a while."

Sanji scowled, "Did you tell her that you have a fucking head injury?" The big, green-haired dumbass with potential fucking brain trauma only shrugged again. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Sanji clicked on the next email and began to write out yet another curt refusal to one of that crazy, celebrity-chef Carmen's amorous proposals.

Nearly an hour later a nurse finally came into the waiting room, stumbling over the name on the chart she was holding, "Mr. Zoro Roro… Ronoa?"

"Zoro Roronoa." The cashier corrected as he stood up and followed her into the next room.

Ignoring the people awkwardly sniffling, coughing and talking about the fucking weather forecast around him, Sanji signed into his Pintrest account and scoffed at miss Tammyy987's 'best souffle recipe ever!' He repinned a Christmas cookie recipe that he wanted to try sometime during the holiday season, and then easily wasted over an hour looking through different articles on breads. It was almost three in the morning when Zoro finally returned. He was clutching a little box of medication and a pamphlet on pneumonia. No wonder the poor bastard looked like shit.

Sanji put away his laptop and stood, stretching out his stiff back and joints, "Ready to go?"

Zoro nodded and followed docilely behind him as Sanji led the way out to his car. The cashier told him the address after they both got in, and Sanji promptly programmed it into his dashboard's touchscreen gps. Beside him the cashier pulled out an old, battered cellphone and dialed a number. Sanji pulled out of the parking lot and began to follow the gps's directions as Zoro talked, "It's me Lu. Sorry it's so late. No, no, I'm okay." He glanced over at Sanji and the blond tried to make it less obvious that he was blatantly listening as the cashier continued the conversation, "Yeah. The doctor said I have fucking pneumonia because Garp cracked my shitty ribs." Sanji heard obnoxious laughter through the phone as Zoro scowled, "Shut up. I can't come in to work though… She said four days, and that I can't lift shit for at least a month."

He fell silent, and Sanji glanced over curiously. The cashier's frown deepened as the store manager talked on the other end of the line for a while before he ended the call with a murmured, "Thanks, Lu. I'll see you later." He sighed and just sat for a few seconds in silence before he dialed a second number, "Hey Franky, I'm on my way home… I'm okay. No, don't get him up. It's okay if he sleeps there, right?" Zoro was quiet for a moment and Sanji could almost make out what the energetic man on the other end of the phone was asking. Shaking his head, Zoro looked over at Sanji again, "No, no. I caught a ride with a guy from work. I'll just get a few things that Tony needs for tomorrow and then I'll be right over, okay? Thanks Franky."

He clicked the phone off and let it drop into his lap with a groan. Sanji gave him a sympathetic glance, "Pneumonia huh? That's rough, man."

"Fuck." Zoro rubbed at his eyes tiredly, "You don't even know…"

The two of them lapsed into silence as Zoro slumped against the car door and began to doze. No doubt the hospital had pumped him full of drugs before they sent him home. Sanji turned into one of the rougher neighborhoods in the city when the gps prompted him to take the next left. Many of the cramped rowhouses they passed had boarded-up windows and iron gates securing the entrances. It reminded him of his shitty neighborhood as a kid - back before Zeff had lost his leg, and they'd lost everything... The gps announced their arrival and Sanji parked at the curb in front of an old apartment building. Reaching over he gently shook Zoro's shoulder, "Hey, we're here. Do think you can make it in okay?"

Grumbling, Zoro fumbled with his seatbelt, "M'just tired - not fucking helpless…"

Sanji watched him struggle out of the car, "Obviously. Guess I'll be seeing you in a week?"

Zoro paused before shutting the car door, "Yeah, see you then, blondie."

Waiting until the cashier made it up the short flight of steps and got the building's entrance open, Sanji only pulled away when he'd completely lost sight of Zoro as the front doors closed behind him. Sanji pulled away from the curb and headed for the other side of town. He had enough time to get a couple hours of sleep tonight before he had to get up again for work. It wouldn't be the first time, and he knew an energy drink or two from the Sunny Mart should get him through the day okay.