Title: The Dinner Party
Theme: #15: Etiquette
Claim: Zoro
(Words:) 7,474
Rating: PG
Warnings: Couple of curses...I think that's it. Also set post-Timeskip, but no real spoilers other than the new appearances...and only referenced once to boot.
Disclaimer(s): I do not own, or pretend to own, One Piece or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. I do not own the prompts either—those are assigned by 30_OnePiece.

Zoro stared down at the needlessly complicated place settings before him. He could not for the life of him remember the next part of his instructions, so with a shrug he decided to wing it, and reached for the fork closest to his plate to start eating. Almost immediately a six-inch chef's knife slammed into the table point first directly between his fingers, barely missing taking his ring finger clean off. The stupid love-cook leaned forward with teeth bared and, hand still wrapped around the handle of the knife, growled, "Wrong again, marimo!"

"Hell," Zoro said in angry irritation, and folded his arms almost petulantly across his chest. "What did I manage to do wrong this time?"

"That is a dessert fork, shit swordsman," Sanji grated, with barely contained impatience. "Does it look like I've served you dessert yet?"

Zoro glanced at his plate, a mass of greens with the occasional bright-colored fruit or vegetable mixed in. "Not unless you started serving salad for dessert."

"At least you've got enough basic education to tell the two apart," Sanji growled. His eyebrow was twitching, which created a sort of hilarious swirling effect every time it moved. "That, or you've got more empathy with plants than you thought, marimo. If it's a salad, here's an idea: try using your damned salad fork."

"A fork's a fork," Zoro said in exasperation. "Why the hell does it matter?"

"Because it's basic dining etiquette, you idiot, and even a lummox like you ought to understand that!"

"Hell," Zoro hissed again. "Why am I doing this again, anyway? This is a waste of time."

"At least we can agree on something," Sanji drawled. "But Nami-san asked me to beat this into your head, and I will do it entirely literally if I have to. You know how important this is!"

Zoro did actually know how important this was. That was why he'd restrained himself from slicing the cook into bits for so long. Much as he hated to admit it, he did need to learn the art of fine dining, and fast, or their entire crew was going to be in a lot of trouble.

Landing at Melenarra Island hadn't seemed so bad, at first—they'd had to sail through a number of harbor locks to get to the docks proper, but it had seemed a decent enough sort of place after that. The one major port on the island was friendly towards pirates, and they'd been able to get a hold of all the necessary supplies needed for continuing their voyages easy.

Unfortunately, leaving was not easy. When they'd tried to sail out two days later once the log pose had set, it was to be informed that they needed written permission from Lord Garrick Arrington, master of the island, in order to have the harbor locks opened so that they could leave. Luffy had been all for busting their way out anyway, and likely would have tried it if some nearby fishermen hadn't warned them to the contrary.

It was then that they learned the situation they were in. Lord Arrington was accepting of both marines and pirates alike, as long as they played by his rules. He was very much a merchant at heart, the fishermen reported, and had a thriving monopoly over the entire island. He was very concerned with reputation too—no one who came to the island was allowed to leave without Lord Arrington assuring himself that their reputation would not taint his own. Those that tried to leave without permission always found themselves beset by sudden storms and vicious waves, sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The fishermen weren't sure if it was a Devil Fruit, or some sort of technology, but the fact was Lord Arrington was very much in charge here, and they would have to play by his rules.

Fortunately, the fishermen told them, as long as they were the good sort, that wasn't so hard at all. All it took was a simple meeting arranged with Lord Arrington, a formal dinner in which the man would meet with the officers or captains of marines or pirates alike privately and determine if he would allow them to leave or not. Lord Arrington was a bit of a frightening man, and a stickler for manners and etiquette, very much an arrogant noble—but the people liked him well enough, and he could apparently be reasonable if approached non-aggressively.

Of course, the Straw Hats were still sunk one way or another. A private, formal dinner was one thing, but a private, formal dinner that Luffy was forced to attend? If the man was as obsessed with rules and etiquette as the rumors said, Luffy would doom them in under five minutes when he inhaled the entire meal in one shot. It went without saying that they couldn't send their captain to the meeting, arranged to take place in a week's time, not if they wanted to get on this Lord Arrington's good side so that they could leave.

Sanji was the ideal choice for the encounter—as a former chef for a high-class, gourmet restaurant, his knowledge of fine dining outclassed anyone else's on the ship. Unfortunately, he also wasn't a possibility. As Robin pointed out, Lord Arrington would take it as a great insult if Luffy not only supposedly declined his invitation, but didn't even bother to send someone of authority from his ship to dine in his place. Not that the Straw Hat Crew worked that way, with ranks, but Luffy's way of running things was sort of far from the normal. Even if it wasn't meant as an insult, old-fashioned Lord Arrington would certainly see it that way, and that would put them right back at square one—on his bad side, where they didn't want to be.

In the end, Robin had also provided the solution. As long as Lord Arrington's invitation was accepted and met by someone of considerable authority on the ship, they would be able to make it through the encounter safely. The first mate, she had said with a small smile, would be acceptable, especially if the navigator accompanied him.

"It won't look like a slight to him at all, then," the archaeologist had assured. "The fact that two other people on the ship viewed as authority figures by outsiders are being sent to his meeting should appease him. We can simply claim that our captain was unfortunately unable to attend, but sends his most trusted vassals in his place."

"What's a vassal?" Luffy had asked, finger in his nose.

That had pretty much ended the discussion.

It was a good plan, for the most part...the best they could hope for. There was only one problem with it, and that was that Zoro didn't know a damned thing about fine dining, either. Most of his life had consisted of simple meals at the dojo, or roasting fish over a campfire, or fighting tooth and nail for his meals at the Sunny's dinner table.

That was where Sanji came in—he'd officially become a crash-course instructor on dining etiquette. Nami had asked him for the lessons at first—she'd claimed she needed to brush up on it, as her skills were rusty. After Sanji had enthusiastically agreed to teach her, she'd slipped Zoro into the lessons as well. The cook was not happy about it, and neither was Zoro. But everyone agreed that Zoro probably had a better shot of learning how to be presentable at a meal in under a week than Luffy did, and it had to be done so they could get the hell off this island. So Zoro resigned himself to a week of utter torment as he submitted to Sanji's curse-filled lessons.

Only, Zoro hadn't counted on their being so many stupid rules for something as ridiculous as eating dinner. And three days into the extremely tedious lessons, he still felt like he hadn't learned a damn thing.

"You really are hopeless, marimo," Sanji said in disgust, finally wrenching the chef's knife out of the table. He glared at the small hole in the wood and growled, "And that's your fault."

"My fault? I'm not the one who stabbed the damn table, curly-brow."

"Shut up, marimo, and get back to your damned dinner. Salad fork. You work from the outside in, always. Even somebody like you ought to be able to remember that."

Zoro made a disgruntled looking noise, and was sorely tempted to use the wrong fork on purpose. But that wouldn't help matters any, or make this ridiculous ordeal end any faster, so he picked up the correct fork and started eating under Sanji's sharp-eyed scrutiny. It was possibly one of the most awkward meals of his life.

That wasn't the first, either, and Zoro had the feeling it wouldn't be his last. Ever since Sanji had been roped into giving etiquette lessons, Zoro had been stuck eating meals separately prepared from the rest of the crew, in courses, in order to get the feel of the dining process. Sanji complained foully every time about 'having to waste good ingredients on an unappreciative moss-head,' but insisted all the same that the only way to really get used to the dining process was to do it. Zoro found it boring as hell in addition to annoying, since he couldn't eat with the rest of the crew—Luffy was bound to inhale his practice meals otherwise.

And of course there was the constant barrage of criticisms, curses, and several other instances of nearly losing fingers as Sanji berated him every time he did something wrong.

"Idiot! That napkin isn't there for show—you fold it lengthwise once like this and place it in your lap, and for the love of all things holy, if you shake it even once I will kick your ass!"

"Marimo, if you try to slurp that soup, so help me God, I will kill you. Use the damned soup spoon—no, not like that, you uncultured barbarian! Away from you, you scoop with the spoon moving away from you!"

"If I catch you putting that silverware on the table again, shit swordsman, you are in for a world of hurt. You started eating—if you need your hands free, put it on the side of the dish. No, you moron, not like that! That signals the server that you're done with your meal!"

And on and on. The number of stupid rules for every little thing were ridiculous. Would people seriously take offense if he cut his food a fraction of an inch larger than was acceptable, or folded his napkin just wrong? If they did, they needed to go out and get a damned life already.

A fourth day passed, and a fifth. Zoro was not any closer to remembering any of these rules and was seriously beginning to wonder if Sanji was just making shit up to mess with him. Only the curly-brow's obvious exasperation and irritation was enough to convince him otherwise—the cook was clearly just as pissed about the situation as he was.

It was during the fifth evening at dinner—a joint effort today with Nami, in an attempt to get used to dining with somebody else—that Sanji finally threw up his hands in exasperation. "My deepest apologies, Nami-san," he said, and he really did sound sorry, "But I'm afraid I simply cannot fulfill this task you've given me. The marimo is absolutely hopeless."

Zoro looked up, scowling, and realized after half a second that he actually was fucking something up—his hand was wrapped around the bowl of the wine glass he was attempting to get a drink out of. He hastily shifted it to the stem and growled, "I'm not that bad."

"You are very much that bad, shit swordsman," Sanji snapped back. "It's been five days and you still can't tell the difference between a salad fork and a dessert one!"

"I still think there's no need for this many forks."

"I'm sorry, Nami-san," the cook repeated with a sigh. "If I had a month, maybe I could beat enough into his head that he'd look insufferably rude instead of downright ignorant, but as it stands..."

Nami smirked from behind her own wine glass—held neatly by the stem, of course, Zoro thought with irritation—and said, "Oh, I don't think he did too bad, all things considered. At least he's not eating with his hands."

Zoro glared at her. Sanji beamed at what he'd probably chosen to interpret as praise for his teaching efforts.

"It's just hard to remember all this stuff all at once," Zoro grumbled. "It's stupid. Who cares about the shape of the napkin or what fork you use? I can sort of remember when I get a reminder, but trying to remember everything on my own is just...why bother?"

"You have to try to learn, Zoro," Nami said, more seriously. "We've only got two days left. You might remember if Sanji-kun starts cursing you when you do something wrong, but it's not like we can bring him with us to the dinner—"

"Erm...actually...maybe you can?"

Zoro, Sanji and Nami turned in surprise. Usopp was standing in the doorway, wringing his hands apologetically. Sanji scowled and looked like he was about to start reaming the sniper out for interfering with the dinner lesson, but Usopp raised his hands hastily to cut him off.

"Wait, I know I'm not supposed to be in here right now, okay? But, um...I overheard the conversation, and if getting Sanji into the dinner might help Zoro do better, there might be a way."

The three of them regarded him quizzically for a moment, and then Nami said, "Explain."

Usopp shut the galley door behind him before saying, "Well, back on Syrup Village, whenever Kaya or her parents had any special functions to go to, Klahadore always went with them, even for dinners."

There was a pause, and then Nami said dryly, "Usopp, I don't know if you've forgotten, but Klahadore was Captain Kuro. You know. A dangerous madman of a pirate captain that almost killed us all?"

"I know that!" Usopp said defensively. "But for three years everyone thought he was just a really good butler. Kaya and her family have always been familiar with all that rich-people stuff, and they always thought he was just a butler, so everything he did must be acceptable, right? Including attending dinner engagements as a servant?"

There was another pause, and then Sanji said flatly, "You want me to be a butler."

"I just think it's your only chance to get in on the dinner, and still have a chance to give Zoro cues, you know? If you're there as a servant you could probably get away with a few things that you couldn't as a guest. Plus, I bet making this guy think we've got a butler would make Luffy look all distinguished, and I bet he'd like that."

"I think it's a great idea," Nami said decisively. "Maybe we'll still have a chance to salvage this disaster yet. Sanji-kun, you talk with Usopp, and Robin too—they might have some input on good butler etiquette."

"Nami-swaaaaan!" Sanji trilled happily. "I would be delighted to serve you for all of eternity! I'll be your humble butler for the rest of my life!"

"You'll be Zoro's butler too for the disguise, remember," Nami pointed out.

The cook deflated almost instantly, and his curled eyebrow visibly twitched. Zoro smirked. The whole situation just got a lot more amusing than before.

The remaining two days were a blur of activity as the crew prepared for the private dinner with Lord Arrington. Sanji continued his etiquette lessons with Zoro, and continued to insist the swordsman was hopeless. Zoro didn't really care. This whole dinner thing still made no sense whatsoever, but at least he didn't have to be perfect at it now—just make it look natural enough for Sanji in his servant guise to steer him back on track, should he start messing up. They grudgingly worked out a few cues here and there, but mostly Zoro had a feeling they'd be winging it.

In addition to the dining lessons, other preparations were going on. Sanji frequently spent his spare time not cooking or teaching with Robin and Usopp, trying to figure out proper servant etiquette. He was familiar with serving and dining, and could certainly dress the part well enough, but that was it. Fortunately Usopp remembered enough about Kuro's pre-evil-revealed days to know some of his actions, and Robin was a wealth of instructive information.

While they did that, Nami took Zoro shopping. Clothes shopping. Apparently fine dining was more than just knowing which stupid fork one was supposed to use at what point—you also had to look all dressed up. Which meant suits. Zoro didn't think he'd even worn a suit in his life, let alone owned one (well, there was that Shiki incident, but he'd tossed what was left of that three-piece as fast as he could when everything was over). Initially Nami had been hoping for him to just borrow something from the love-cook, but that hadn't been possible—Zoro was too broad in the shoulder, and his arms and torso much thicker, making the jackets tight and uncomfortable. In the end Nami was forced to drag him to the nearest tailor on the island and have something made specifically to his measurements. It cost a fortune, moreso with the rush, and put their navigator in an extremely bad mood by the end.

"This had better be worth it," she growled at him, as they accepted the formal wear several hours later, and she was separated from a ridiculous wad of bills. "You'd better not mess up. And this is being added to your debt."

"Figures," Zoro muttered under his breath. She smacked him.

And finally, all too fast, the day of the dinner had arrived.

They were as ready as they were ever going to be, and Zoro just wanted to get the whole mess over with now so he could go back to wearing his haramaki and eating things with his fingers. They assembled on the deck when it was time to leave, and Zoro grit his teeth as the rest of the crew joined them to see them off.

"Wow, Zoro!" Chopper said. "You look totally different!"

He felt totally different too, and not in a good way. The suit felt ridiculous and constraining—fighting in it would be close to impossible, although he'd make it work if he had to. Not that he'd really have much of a choice in the matter, since Nami insisted he leave his swords behind on the ship. He really hoped this Lord Arrington guy didn't start trouble, or he'd be forced to defend his crew with dinner knives, or let the cook take all the glory (and the latter was not an option). Nami had been forced to do his tie for him—he hadn't the faintest idea how to put one on, and there was no way in hell he'd ask curly-brow for help on that—but it still felt constraining, like a noose around his neck. Even the comfortable, familiar chime of his earrings was absent; Nami had forced him to remove them for the night, insisting he looked too much like a punk otherwise. The end result was something entirely not him, although the others seemed to think he looked snappy if their comments that they didn't even attempt to conceal were anything to judge by. Even Sanji nodded with grudging approval, insisting that 'at least he didn't look like a moss monster that had just stumbled out of a dank cave.'

He was so going to kick Sanji's ass when this was all over.

The others were dressed up as well. Sanji didn't look all that different in a finely-pressed, jet-black suit, although he was now wearing a pin on his lapel that was apparently an indication of his butler status. Nami was wearing an evening gown and heels to match Zoro's suit, and had done her hair up, although the illusion of elegance was shattered when she started her high-pitched shrilling at Luffy for some comment the captain had made.

But eventually they were ready to go, and they set off in order to arrive at Lord Garrick Arrington's manor in a timely and fully appropriate fashion.

Zoro was hating it already, and they hadn't even gotten there yet.

Still, the arrival went off without a hitch. They made it to the manor on time and were politely admitted by a servant, who seemed mildly surprised for a fraction of a second upon seeing them with their own butler but held back that shock pretty well. Zoro supposed that meant he was well-trained. The servant backed off almost immediately and allowed Sanji to attend to his 'masters,' waiting politely to lead them to Lord Arrington.

"May I take your coat, madam?" Sanji asked Nami first, as charmingly as he could possibly manage while still playing the part of a servant. Nami handed it off absently, unconcerned, and Zoro could tell from the tension in the cook's frame it was all he could do to keep himself from noodling in place. Seconds later Sanji turned to Zoro, and although it was probably killing him to do it, he added, "And yours...master Roronoa?"

Zoro had to admit, he was actually quite impressed with Sanji's self-control on that one. He could just barely hear the grit in the cook's voice at having to defer to Zoro like that, but it was something that only those familiar with him, like his crew mates, would recognize. To the waiting servant, it probably sounded completely normal.

Not that he didn't plan to have fun with that. He turned his head just enough, so that the waiting servant couldn't see his face, and smirked in amusement at the curly-brow as he held out the coat. If he could have, Sanji would have been glaring daggers, but he couldn't drop his facade, and was forced to merely accept Zoro's coat with proper servitude.

Okay. This part was kinda hilarious.

The coats taken care of, the servant lead Zoro and Nami through the manor to a sitting room, with Sanji trailing along obediently behind. Their host, the Lord Garrick Arrington himself, was seated in the room, patiently awaiting their arrival. He was a well-dressed man, looking in his late forties or early fifties, with some gray beginning to touch at his brown hair.

"Welcome," the man said immediately, as his guests came into the room. He swept to his feet and offered a short bow to Nami specifically before moving forward to shake Zoro's hand. A bit belatedly, Zoro began to realize that all the crap Sanji had been telling him for the past week about the proper way to treat a lady at a dinner party might not have just been his usual love-cook sensibilities. Shit. Now he sort of wished he'd paid more attention to that after all.

Lord Arrington gestured for everyone to sit after the introductions were complete. Zoro and Nami chose chairs near enough to each other that Sanji could hover near both of them, behind and out of the way but ready to present himself at a moment's notice, like a proper butler. "I must admit," their host said, "It was a bit unfortunate to hear that your captain would not be attending the dinner. But I see now that his subordinates are still more than capable of representing his interests."

Well. So Robin had been right after all. At least they'd scored a few points there.

"I will admit I am even surprised to see that you've brought your own servant," Lord Arrington added, with an absent wave to Sanji. "Though I am shocked you allow him to appear so...un-groomed...in public."

Even with Sanji a few paces away, Zoro could feel the heat rising from the cook, and he could tell it was all the pirate could do to restrain his temper. For his part, Zoro couldn't figure out what the hell Arrington was talking about. Sanji was usually the most well-dressed among the crew...even Zoro would admit most of the others, including himself, were far more 'un-groomed' on a regular basis.

"The hairstyle is very popular back in the North Blue," Nami responded hastily, doing her best to take control of the conversation again. "Our servant hails from there. We always keep up to date with the latest fashions."

Oh. The hair. Zoro had gotten so used to Sanji's one-eyed mop style he'd sort of forgotten about it, but he supposed that made sense. And also explained the cook's rage. He was always very particular about his hair.

"I see," Lord Arrington drawled. "Well, I suppose that is acceptable enough, although personally you give him more freedom than I typically accept from my own servants—"

It was definitely getting hotter now. Arrington would be able to feel it soon enough himself, and that would definitely blow their cover. Besides, much as Zoro loved to take the piss out of the cook for pretty much everything he did, he wasn't so fond of letting this arrogant jackass do it, especially when Sanji really couldn't fight back. That was a crew-only privilege. So he cut the man off, and said curtly, "We're not here to discuss our servants."

Lord Arrington raised an eyebrow. "Roronoa Zoro, you said your name was," he said. A statement, not a question. Zoro nodded, and the man gave the vaguest trace of a smile. "Right down to business, I see. I can appreciate that. Shall we move along to dinner, then?" He rang a little bell, and instantly other servants appeared to lead them to the dining hall. By the time they were on the move, Sanji had managed to cool down enough to follow them without causing further trouble, although Zoro could still tell he was pissed—just hiding it better. Nami gave Zoro a grateful look for the save, that also simultaneously seemed to say, don't screw things up any more than you have to.

Such trust they had in him. Great.

The dining hall was a lavish affair, all expensive woods and columns and one polished table set with real silver tableware. Nami's eyes glittered in appreciation for the pieces. Zoro just hoped she restrained herself from slipping an extra fork or two into her dress somewhere. He kept himself from rolling his eye and started to take a step forward to sit, but Sanji grabbed the back of his suit jacket warningly, managing to conceal the move from the servants, and glared at him when they weren't looking. Oh, right. You were supposed to wait for your host to seat himself first.

Lord Arrington did so a second later, gesturing for Zoro to sit on his right, and Nami across the table from him at the lord's left. After pulling back the chair for Nami, Sanji placed himself unobtrusively at the end of the table with his arms folded behind his back, the image of a butler waiting to serve either of his masters. With the earlier reminder from Sanji, Zoro now also remembered that he was supposed to wait for the Lord to move his napkin before putting his own in his lap. He really hoped he'd folded it right. Sanji didn't seem to be freaking out, so he supposed it was good enough.

The Lord Arrington called for dinner next, and the servants wheeled in carts with the courses. Sanji was in his element almost immediately—even if he didn't cook the food himself, he was still an expert when it came to serving it, and attended to the meals of his 'masters' with great skill. As far as Zoro could tell he was pulling out all the stops to make the disguise work—the swordsman hadn't been at the Baratie all that long, but he distinctly recalled Sanji swearing at and beating up his clientele there, which meant he was still being on his best behavior here.

Not to mention using it as an excuse to get messages across to Zoro. Back on the Sunny the cook had claimed it would be impossible to prepare Zoro fully without knowing Lord Arrington's exact planned dinner menu; apparently there were dozens of additional rules depending on what foods were served, and how. Now, as Sanji delicately placed martini glasses with a red sauce and fat shrimp curling over its edges in front of Nami and Zoro, the swordsman was starting to see why. He would have been sunk, but for the fact that Sanji's hand hovered almost imperceptibly over the fork on the far right of the table settings while he appeared to be attending to Nami, as if to say, this one. Zoro got the hint, and once Lord Arrington had lifted his own fork to start eating, Zoro grit his teeth and threw himself forward into what would probably be a disaster.

It wasn't as much of one as it could have been to start, though. Zoro thought he did decently enough with the appetizer. And although the three different wine glasses threw him at first, that was remedied easily enough when Sanji poured the wine for them, effectively taking the choice out of his hands. Lord Arrington didn't seem suspicious, and was presently explaining the logistics of day-to-day merchant affairs to a much-less-interested-than-she-appeared Nami, who was holding his attention. So far, so good.

The second course was a salad. Sanji cleared away their original plates and with a flourish replaced them with the small mound of greens that Zoro supposed were meant to look artful, but to him just looked unappetizing and definitely like not enough for a single person. Hell, he didn't think a serving this size would be enough to satisfy Chopper, and the kid was the smallest one on their crew. But declining to eat would probably qualify as rude, and besides, as soon as they were out of the manor Sanji would try to kick his ass for wasting food, so he resolved to just get it over with. Without wolfing it down, which was also, apparently, rude. Fine dining needed to go to hell.

Sanji appeared to be trying to indicate something, the way his hand hovered again as he set down their plates, but whatever it was, it wasn't a signal Zoro recognized. Oh well. Winging it, it was. He reached for his fork—

A shooting pain burst abruptly in his shin, and shivered up his spine in a hot, crawling sensation. He managed to keep himself from jumping and barely restrained a curse in his throat. He couldn't keep his eye from twitching in reaction, but thankfully Lord Arrington hadn't taken into account Zoro's blind eye when he'd arranged his table settings; it was the eye closest to the host, and the nerves in it were shot, deadening the reaction. He clenched his teeth and shot a glare at Sanji out of the corner of his good eye. The cook had somehow managed, with surprising flexibility, to give him a warning kick under the table while remaining perfectly stationary from the waist up, where he was visible to the host. Sanji gave him a quick warning glance, and his eyes flickered to the forks for the barest second before facing forward again.

Zoro blinked, and realized he'd been reaching for the wrong fork again. Outside in. Right. He managed to correct the motion smoothly without it being terribly noticeable, and the rest of the salad course passed smoothly. But damn he was going to kick the cook's ass later for that. It hurt.

Things went a little more smoothly after that, and they managed to make their way through the soup and sorbet courses with little trouble. Sanji was mostly able to communicate the how-to's of eating to Zoro via a few of their previously worked out cues, and Zoro managed to stumble through without looking like a complete idiot, at least. He would have grudgingly admitted that Sanji's skills were making up for his own lack of them, except for the fact that Sanji had kicked him twice more for other almost-transgressions, in the same spot as before, and fuck it hurt, so he wasn't exactly feeling gracious. His shin was going to be a mass of bruises tomorrow—he really wished he could stab the cook back with one of the dinner knives, but he was reasonably sure that would be inappropriate. Nami did her part in the dinner as well, subtly and tactfully distracting the Lord Arrington with conversation and being her most false-charming, keeping the Straw Hat Pirates on the man's good side. They had now moved on from the economics of the island, and were more enthusiastically discussing weather patterns, something Arrington appeared to also have studied in his youth.

But it was in the middle of the fifth course, a tiny portion of rib-eye steak, yam wedge, and a tomato rose (Zoro was still not even remotely feeling full, and who wanted to eat flowery looking vegetables anyway) when things started to go bad. Lord Arrington had, until now, been content to speak with Nami alone, but after delicately cutting another perfectly-sized piece from his steak he addressed Zoro. "So. Mr. Roronoa. You are the first mate of the Straw Hat Pirates, yes?"

"That's right," Zoro said curtly. He didn't actually consider himself the first mate, personally, but it would take too long to explain that.

"Your epithet says you are a pirate hunter. As I understand it, you once had some fame back on the East Blue as a bounty hunter, is that correct?"

Zoro shrugged uncomfortably in his suit jacket. He almost stuck a piece of steak in his mouth, but Sanji had that warning look that said he was seriously considering another underhanded kick, so Zoro held off until the question was answered. "I never really considered myself a bounty hunter. That's just what everyone else called me. I just caught bounties to pay the bills."

"I see," Lord Arrington said delicately. "Still, I am impressed by your strength. Even unintentional, it isn't often that a man can make a name for himself so young. Tell me, was the business interesting?"

Zoro shrugged again. "Catch bounties. Turn them in. Nothing special, really." Nami was glaring at him over her plate with a look that clearly said do not mess up all my hard work buttering him up, but really, how the hell was Zoro supposed to answer the question any other way?

"I see," their host said again, although this time with less fake warmth. "Forgive my questions; I simply do not dine with bounty hunters often. More often than not my guests are marines. I am on very good terms with the marines," he told them with a tone that suggested confidentiality and was anything but. "I have dined with many pirates before, too, but never before with pirates that have quite such enormous bounties on their heads."

Zoro didn't like the way the man said it; his tone was too fake, his smile dripped with venom. "That sounds an awful lot like a threat," the swordsman growled low, placing his fork and knife on his plate with sharp, abrupt clinks as he turned to stare the man in the eye. He could feel Nami glaring at him again, and Sanji gave him another sharp, warning kick under the table, but Zoro ignored it and kept his gaze from flinching as he stared at their host.

Arrington raised an eyebrow, and there was that false smile again. "Not at all, Mr. Roronoa," the lord said. "I simply find it intriguing that even your captain's subordinates could be worth so much." He met Zoro's gaze without a hint of fear, and Zoro was reminded of a bully, one that knew he had power, had influence, had no need to worry. "I appreciate strength, Mr. Roronoa. Having lived in the New World for over fifty years, I appreciate it quite a bit. I certainly would not mind having someone of your caliber on my payroll for...insurance."

"No," Zoro growled. "I'm not looking to be recruited. I have a captain."

This time both of Arrington's eyebrows shot up. "I said nothing at all, Mr. Roronoa," the man said cooly. "But I would certainly not say no if you were interested. I pay my soldiers and bodyguards extremely well—as I said, I know the worth of strength. I am sure I could offer you anything else you desired, as well."

"No," Zoro growled, more insistently. He could feel Nami and Sanji nearby now, tense, worried about more than just the meeting going poorly, now. "I'm not going. I have a captain. And let me assure you, that if Captain Straw Hat Luffy were to learn that you tried to tempt his crew members away from him, he would be angry. Very angry."

Now it was Arrington's turn to narrow his eyes, and he met Zoro glare for glare. "My, my, Mr. Roronoa," he said slowly, voice grating, "that did sound like a threat."

"Not at all, Lord Arrington," Zoro hissed, parroting the man's earlier words very deliberately. "I'm just reminding you that we're here for dinner, not job offers, is all." And again, very deliberately, he turned back to his dinner and cut himself another piece of steak, popping it into his mouth and ignoring the glares of both their host and his crew members alike.

Their host made an annoyed tch sound, and said lowly, "Your captain must be quite confident for you to have so much faith in him."

Zoro shrugged. "He's going to be the Pirate King," he said, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

Lord Arrington's eyebrows shot skyward again. "Ridiculous," he snapped. But at Zoro's unconcerned expression the man said with surprise, "You really believe it, don't you?"

"Without a doubt," Zoro said cooly. Then he lifted his wine glass and very deliberately glanced in Sanji's direction. He was pretty sure this was technically a no-no, but Sanji only smirked, and poured the wine anyway.

Lord Arrington glared furiously at Zoro, and the tension was suddenly thick enough to cut with one of the dinner knives—Zoro didn't have to be a swordsman to feel that much. Nami looked frustrated, like they'd gotten themselves into trouble, but at the same time Zoro could see her just barely hiding an amused smirk—so clearly she was okay with Zoro putting the man in his place, too, on some level. Sanji said nothing, and still played the servant to perfection, but Zoro could all but feel his malicious satisfaction at Lord Arrington getting one-upped, even if it wasn't him doing it. Although he still kicked Zoro under the table again once he was finished with the wine. Damn that hurt!

The tension increased, and now, although Zoro didn't regret sticking up for his captain for a second, he was starting to regret the way he'd worded things. They did still need Arrington on their side after all, and the man looked pissed enough now to decide to sink their ship anyway—

But without warning Lord Arrington threw back his head and laughed, long and deep, and this time it sounded genuine—not his fake, entertaining-host laugh from earlier. He laughed for several moments, and when he turned back to the Straw Hats there was a genuine smirk there too, one of deep amusement. "So this is the Straw Hat crew, is it? Well, if you are a valid representation of your captain, I am sure I have seen enough of you to get the measure of you all."

Zoro raised an eyebrow, and Lord Arrington smiled wider, saying, "Such confidence you have. I am sure you think you could win any battle. Maybe you even could. Perhaps you could even escape me. And yet you come to dine with me anyway. It doesn't seem like submission—that is a different sort of power entirely. Your captain is certainly a very interesting man." A pause, and Arrington studied his wine delicately, swirling the liquid around in the glass before finally saying, "The Pirate King, yes? And such confidence, for such a lofty goal...I must admit, I would not mind my reputation being tied to that in the slightest."

"Is that so," Zoro said, his voice flat, wary.

"It is indeed," Lord Arrington said. "Of course, you cannot actually achieve that goal in my harbor, so I shall have to let you go. I will have messages sent to my harbor masters first thing in the morning to let you pass." Addressing Nami, he added, "You will want to wait until afternoon, my dear, to allow our peculiar tide to finish its business. I would hate to see such a ship smashed to pieces."

Nami's eyes widened, and she nodded, managing to suppress an enthusiastic cheer with surprising skill. Sanji managed much the same (and, Zoro suspected, also barely kept himself in check from attacking their host for the 'my dear' comment). Zoro just smirked.

"Your captain is very lucky to have such loyal subordinates," Lord Arrington added, looking Zoro directly in the eye. Zoro met his gaze firmly, with no hesitation, and after a moment the man turned away, addressing both his guests with, "Though I must confess, it is unfortunate to let such skill go to waste on a pirate ship. Now then. Shall we carry on to dessert?"

"Please," Zoro said curtly, and was very happy to know this whole mess was almost over with.

An hour later, after the meal was completed and the required small talk and pandering was over with, the trio were on their way back to the Thousand Sunny. Zoro and Sanji had managed to restrain themselves until they were out of the manor's sight before hurling themselves at each other for a long-overdue fight, with heated yells of, "May I beat your head in for you, Master Marimo!" and "If you ever kick me under the table like that again I will slice you into pieces, you damned curly-brow!" Nami had allowed them to fight for a few minutes, and then broken them up, shrieking that any damage to the suit Nami had paid for would be covered by them.

Once they had managed to cool down, though, they were able to fall into a relatively normal conversation. "I'm still hungry," Zoro complained. "There was absolutely nothing to that meal, and it still took hours."

"Welcome to fine dining," Sanji said dryly, lighting his third cigarette in a row—under his butler guise he'd had to go without for the duration of the meal. "Although he had a decent enough cook...I couldn't taste-test to be sure, but the aromas and presentation was acceptable, and the menu was varied enough—"

"Whatever," Zoro cut him off. "There was nothing to it. I felt like I sat there and ate air for three hours."

"But I'm surprised, Zoro," Nami said. "I didn't think you would handle that as well as you did."

"You didn't need as many cues as I thought you might," Sanji admitted. "Although the salad course was a nightmare."

"The bruises on my leg sure as hell agree with you."

"Not just that, though," Nami said. "How did you know you could challenge Lord Arrington like that and get away with it? I thought for sure he was going to call up his marine buddies and try to have us arrested...or that he'd sink our ship then and there."

Zoro shrugged. "You heard him. He appreciates strength. Nothing is stronger than the Pirate King on the seas, right? Besides," he added as an afterthought, "The guy's a bully. I just showed him we wouldn't take it, is all."

"Well, whatever you did, it worked," Nami said with a sigh. "We'll be out of here tomorrow, and good riddance."

"Damn straight," Zoro agreed, and mentally promised himself that tomorrow at breakfast he would deliberately break every single rule he'd learned for the past week, just to piss the love-cook off.

Actually did tons of research on course meals and dining etiquette. And it is a big confusing mess. Also, lots of stupid manners relating to women, so I'm suddenly much less surprised at some of the things Sanji does.

~VelkynKarma