Fraya123L: I read and cherish every comment and your thought on my writing always make me happy! And thanks to your wish for more Law-perspective, this chapter opens with a whammy ;)

Iris the Sassy Pug: It's lovely to hear that you enjoy the story! Hope you also enjoy this chapter :)

Law watched Nami over the rim of his coffee cup.

The redhead was seated at her desk, buried over her head in some administrative duties that accompanied the approaching holiday season.

If she wasn't careful, the towering pile, precariously balanced on the edge of her table, would topple.

Law had given her ten minutes from the moment she staggered into the room with the mountain of paperwork and dumped the papers on her desk, but she was still going strong half an hour later. He'd have to revise his estimate.

The woman had a way of surprising him.

When he started, she had been just another admin assistant. Pretty to look at and helpful as well, but too interested in the latest pop charts and office gossip. And apparently in possession of a weird obsession with stuffed animals, if the gigantic Hello Kitty-doll, coterie of tiny hedgehogs and a lone narwhal that had found their way to their office was something to judge by.

But then she befriended Bepo. And a completely new side of the woman appeared, like the answers to a pop quiz after you've taken it.

She didn't show it to Law, of course. But he and Bepo did share a flat.

Apparently, the woman was kind and funny during their biweekly tea appreciation sessions and much less of an airhead than either of them had anticipated. He had already noticed her brains, but when Bepo started to gush about her compassionate nature, it was hard to ignore.

Mainly because he did it so very often.

It did not help when Law asked him to change the topic.

Mainly this was because, as he'd noticed lately: whatever he did, or whatever Bepo said, he just couldn't forget what she looked like when she dressed in something else than office-appropriate wear.

This unfortunate realisation had spilled over on seeing her in a new light in office-appropriate wear as well, making it extremely awkward for him to get up from his desk when she was bending over her desk or trying to reach something from the higher shelves.

When he'd heard a scared voice from that alley all those weeks ago on his way home, he had become wary – that late in the evening people should be on their way to either the local midnight food stall serving dubious hotdogs and falafels, or alternatively the safety of their homes. People should not emit high-pitched noises in streetscapes more suited for a film noir.

He had approached cautiously, phone ready to call for the police. Just in case.

But when he recognised the shade of red in the cold light of the streetlamps, his blood had run cold and his heart had simply stopped beating. Which would have been concerning in any other situation, but then and there he had no attention for anything else than what was happening down the road.

He had been impressed by her rapid response and the quick way she downed three of her assailants. But the odds were not in her favour, the fourth one too much to tackle alone.

And then she was struggling in their grasp.

He hadn't even started to think when his legs decided to start running on their own, some forgotten part of his brain calling up a room as he flew over the cobblestones. His heart had been trying to beat its way out of his ribcage, filling his throat in the process and if he'd have any attention to spare from the scene in front of him, the irregularities of said heart would have been concerning indeed.

He knew he could get her out of the thugs grasp with his powers, but he had no idea, not the slightest inkling, of what would follow.

And he always, always had a plan.

A broken branch was scooped up and exchanged with the woman as soon as he got in range. She was warm and heavy in his grip, her fear evident in the coil of her spine and clutch of her hand on his arm. The only thing he knew was that her attacker should be as far away as his room allowed him to dump them, the resulting distant splash utterly satisfying and soothing his rapidly beating heart and clammy hands.

When he calmed down and started checking her injuries, he became aware of her strumming pulse – she had been terrified.

Which made her somehow more human.

Before that night, she had just been a woman in the office, helpful and positive and energetic like a bloody sunbeam. Now, she was more than a two-dimensional fixture who ceased to exist when he shut the office door – she was suddenly a person, an individual in her own right, she was Nami. Someone with tangible fears and possibly some sort of hopes for the future and things he had learned a long time ago not to think about or yearn for himself.

The walk back to her place was more than tense and awkward. It was downright torturous. And he understood her reluctance to go to the police – what could they do? Nothing, in his experience. He'd still sent an anonymous tip about the thugs she had taken down when he left her standing at her door; modern IT was good for something at least. There was little chance that they'd still be laying in the street, but maybe his tip would make the police patrol the area a bit better, if nothing else.

Bepo had looked askance at him when he got home and dropped down on the sofa, totally wrung out. He'd brought him a blanket and then refused to go away.

Of course, Law had eventually given in to the Mink's subtle questions and barefaced demands to know what had happened.

And now here she was, typing away at her computer, looking cool as a cucumber.

Law shook his head, sighing, trying to derail his current train of thought. Maybe he should decrease his coffee intake if he kept going down memory lane like this. It probably wasn't very healthy to drink as much as he did.

Scratch that; he knew ten cups of coffee a day was terribly unhealthy.

Maybe he should take it down a notch and try to survive on eight.

A slight movement over on Nami's side of the room caught his eye and he watched dreamily as the topmost papers in her pile started to slide down in slow motion, dragging the underlying papers with them in their merry descent, causing a chain-reaction in their wake.

Nami swore as the head high pile of papers tumbled down in mockery of the snowfall they almost could have enjoyed last week, if it wouldn't have melted away en route down from the sky.

And Law couldn't help but smile at her surprisingly creative string of expletives, followed by the thump of her head hitting her desk.

After the peculiar disturbance of the space-time continuum, a tentative détente established itself between Nami and Law. Neither spoke of the incident and as the tenderness of Nami's shoulder faded, so did her resentment.

But the post-game night had left its marks.

Nami increased the length and pace of her morning runs and even cajoled Rebecca into joining her for a few rounds of tennis, all in the name of building her stamina. Zoro was bullied into helping her practice breaking out of locks and defending against attacks, and Usopp promised to help make her both something that would let her defend herself and access her phone easily but still wouldn't be too obvious. And preferably not too shiny. Or bulky. And matching her outfits.

Usopp had stared at her long and hard before groaning and locking himself in the garden shed for the rest of the day.

But life went on, as life is wont to do.

Something had shifted between her and Law and made it feel… wrong… to act as syrupy as she had when he and Bepo arrived. And so no-more overtly bubbly pop-songs broke the silence of their shared office, the stuffed animals were relegated to a shelf above Bepo and Nami even cancelled the beautiful Christmas-themed decorative figurine of Santa Claus waltzing with Rudolph, playing 'All I want for Christmas is you' she had ordered online.

There seemed to be a change in Law's demeanour as well; although he had always been silent, only interrupting her and Bepo's discussions to correct either of them on some theoretical point or methodological aspect, he became even more withdrawn, barely thanking her for coffee or asking if she wanted a refill.

Bepo appraised the situation, analysed the actors and then kept his conclusions to himself, merely giving a resigned sigh whenever the two humans interacted.

As days shortened and Mother Nature made a sad attempt at a seasonal snow covering, destined to melt before it even touched the ground, they found their rhythm. Coffee runs continued with minimal conversation and the tea parties she, Vivi and Bepo arranged slowly took on more of a philosophical than a gossipy tone. This was partly due to a lack of new and interesting office-gossip: the only interesting work-related event was the guest lectures the candidates for the vacant professorship would give and now that Vivi had stabilised into a relationship with Koza after enough coffeeshop-dates to give a normal person caffeine poisoning, all opportunities for interesting relationship-related gossip seemed to dry up as well.

And the last day before the holidays dawned as so many other do, to a grey sky and a niggling feeling that you've forgotten something important.

The holidays had crept nearer as a persistent phone salesperson, filling the campus and town with the usual holiday-related decorations and general feeling of jolliness and cheer. This last day was no different, except for a certain thinning of the student body, many having opted for an early start to their break, as is tradition.

Although there was to be no waltzing reindeer in the office, there was enough kitsch and honest attempts at cheerfulness to keep all spirits permanently downtrodden. This state of affairs was not eased by the general feeling of victory filling the faculty, causing them to refocus their attention on the poor students. Usually, a loss for the faculty in the annual football game would lead to an increase in the workload for the students, as fair payback.

An unprecedented win, however, led the faculty to newly discovered heights of joy and triumph and the general atmosphere of merriment reassured them that the students could take on just a couple more assignments, for football's sake.

It wouldn't do to let up on the standards, after all.

Luckily enough for Nami and her housemates, their last lecture before the holiday break was a lovely double-whammy of insight into methodology with professor Nico who normally was not swayed by the outcome of the football match and assigned them a mountain of work all on her own. She didn't hold with taking out feelings of either loss or victory on the students (and she didn't partake in events designed to improve faculty-student relations as she regarded them as a waste of time, effort and sanity).

Professor Nico Robin was a world-renowned archaeologist and expert on forensic anthropology, having travelled the world like some sort of improved Indiana Jones who actually respected the ruins and lost societies she happened upon. Whispers of something dark in her past kept resurfacing with regular intervals, especially around Halloween, but as no-one could prove anything, the whispers kept a low profile and grew more and more outrageous with each passing year. Last Nami heard, the professor was rumoured to have lit a whole country on fire before she turned ten.

But she was one of those people to whom an 'open door policy' actually meant something. She always had an ear or three for people's problems and an almost magical ability to learn the strengths and weaknesses of her students. She had also endeared herself to Nami forever when she once stopped by her office in Nami's first week as office assistant and wordlessly left a packet of chocolate chip biscuits and a steaming mug of tea on her desk on the day the Dean had decided to introduce her to the joys of filing travel reports in a highly respected research university which both encouraged participating in each and every conference possible and saw the rule about attaching proper receipts more as a suggestion.

But since she was that rare breed of a truly likeable teacher, people often wanted to exceed her expectations and highly demanding classes on their own, not due to some externally imposed standard.

And so, Nami felt wrung out and left to dry in some dark and damp corner when the lecture finally wound down, countless hours spent in pondering the nature of reality and knowledge. If you think, you are, and therefore you should be really, really certain that this is something you want to do.

The things you did for your degree.

But, as Sanji loved to remind her, 'class is a state of mind'.

No-one knew if he referred to actual educational classes, had created subtle commentary on societal structures, or if he meant something completely different. Whatever he meant mainly seemed to include lounging about around the house and attending the few classes he had through various virtual platforms while he tried out some new recipe he'd found. Or invented.

Professor Nico – or Robin, as she had demanded Nami call her after an incident involving the copier, a tabby cat and a bucket of potatoes that neither had escaped unharmed – waited for the class to settle before releasing them to the sweet freedom of the Christmas break.

"I just wanted to remind you that we'll be welcoming a new member of staff soon and that the candidates will be giving their trial lectures straight after the holidays."

That made the student's groan. Everyone loathed extra guest lectures.

Nami planted a sharp elbow in Luffy's side, the man having managed to fall asleep beside her within the past ten seconds, his nose housing a large bubble that grew and shrank with his breathing. How he did it, she knew not – and wasn't particularly interested in finding out either.

Robin looked over the class, wry look in her eyes. "As the attendance will require some extra input from you, you will also get bonus points for attending the lectures."

That made the student's perk up. Everyone loved extra credit.

They did give their all with professor Nico, but bonus points were always bonus points. Robin was as strict with her grading as she was popular amongst the students in general and the more gothic clique in particular.

"They will be held in the beginning of next year; keep an eye out for exact dates and times."

And with that, glorious freedom and a few weeks of rest and recuperation was upon them.

Nami and Luffy strolled towards the square outside in order to both get something warm to drink and wait for Chopper and Usopp to emerge from biotech; they were stuck with old Red-Nose for the moment, the cellular features of beetle armour the topic du jour, which meant they'd probably be around half an hour late.

Red-Nose wasn't known for keeping the schedule.

Or his temper in check.

Or research assistants.

The weather had turned cold and clammy and not even a triple-jumper-combo could keep Nami warm as they stood in the queue to the coffee cart stationed outside.

How Luffy could look so relaxed in just a t-shirt and shorts, Nami would never know.

"What's the word for horny, but not in a sexual way?" Luffy asked as their turn came in the queue, causing the poor barista to drop the jar of coffee beans on the ground.

Nami cast a questioning look at him from the corner of her eye, paying for their beverages when the poor man finally got his beans counted.

"Like, I'm horny for Christmas presents and all the holiday food, but I don't want to fuck a reindeer, you know?" Luffy said as he accepted the hot cocoa proffered.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'excited'," an amused voice from behind them chimed in. Professor Nico, strolling past, threw them a quiet smile as they choked on their drinks.

Nami, eyes streaming from the sudden onslaught of hot coffee sideways into her windpipe, watched the older woman take the proffered arm of a large man with electric blue hair and smiling brightly at him before strolling away into the darkening afternoon.

One of the reasons some of the students were interested in Nico Robin and attended her lectures was, sadly enough in this day and age, her husband.

Nami had never seen them together before, but this had to be the fabled Cutty Flam, or 'Franky' as he was known around town, a self-taught technology and IT genius. The man was wearing his trademark sunglasses and a loud Hawaiian shirt, decorated with pineapples, his hair done up in a gravity-defying mohawk.

He had tinkered around a bit before leaving university and starting his first engineering company at the age of twenty-one.

After that folded, he tried again and went bankrupt in a week. After that, he tried again and again.

And again.

And again, until the lucky thirty-fifth break.

And after that, the direction had been up and away.

His company was now one of the leading IT-security companies in the world and most students in their class would have given their right arm or other appendage of choice to get a chance to even talk to the eccentric whizz who could turn a scrap heap into a fully functioning robot with the help of a hammer, some scotch tape, a banana and a box of matchsticks.

He was also known around town for his catchphrases, 'SUPER!' and 'life is too short for pants'. It was hard to forget the man after you saw him in the depths of winter, such as this day, wearing only the tiniest pair of speedos imaginable.

Maybe he and Luffy shared some common ancestor making them immune to the cold and causing a general lack of common sense. The world would never know.

All thoughts of Luffy's parentage and possible connections to Franky were pushed to the side by the appearance of a slightly glassy-eyed Chopper, leading Usopp by the hand and explaining something about a slight accident and how Usopp would be able to see properly in just a few hours, he just needed rest and darkness and could Nami take his other hand and Luffy stop laughing, please, so they could get home?

Luckily enough, Sanji's lectures had once again been online the whole day, which meant snacks were ready when the quartet stumbled in through the door, depositing Usopp on a kitchen chair. Without a pause, Sanji got a hot mug of tea and a biscuit in his grasp as Luffy bounded away, shouting for Zoro to join them and Chopper and Nami sank down on the mismatched chairs surrounding their kitchen table, groaning from the combined exhaustion of keeping Usopp out of traffic and Luffy alive.

"Long day?"

"The longest," Nami groused, reaching for a biscuit. "I love Robin, but is she demanding…"

"Is there anything I can do?"

Nami barely deigned to lift her head from where it lay on her folded arms, a bone-deep weariness penetrating her very being. "Take of your shirt and make me a sandwich?"

"If you're making sandwiches, can I have ham and cheese?"

Luffy bounded back into the kitchen, followed by a yawning Zoro. Sanji, the ever-attuned cook, rallied admirably form the sudden intrusion into the conversation between him and his beautiful Nami-swan.

"Sure. White or whole grain?"

"Whole grain. And button up your shirt," Zoro said, plopping down on a chair.

Sanji flipped him off as he turned to make the wished-for sandwiches, but still doing the buttons he'd started opening at Nami's request.

The rest of the afternoon slipped past like jellied eels in heels. With the crew gathered in the kitchen, too tired and apathetic to do anything about assignments as the deadlines were in the far future that is the new year, snack time soon turned into teatime which melted into calls for dinner. A short discussion on the merits of takeout (from Luffy) and the odiousness of calling for it (from Zoro) was followed by a declaration of starvation as the only option (from both Luffy and Zoro). This, in turn, elicited an outcry from Sanji and a general lamentation regarding the pathetic nature of both Zoro and Luffy and a declaration of dinner.

"How would you like your steak cooked?" Sanji asked from the stove, prepping the pan.

Usopp had found a great deal on meat a while ago, which, interestingly enough, had turned out to be half a cow. The back half, to be precise. Usopp and Sanji had combined forces and learned to butcher said cow out in the garden shed and Nami decided to never, ever take a look inside the innocuous little hut.

She didn't even know you could do things like that with those parts of a cow, but Sanji proved, once again, his brilliance in the kitchen.

And there was something to be said about having steak for dinner as students.

"Like winning an argument with Nami!" Luffy answered, occupied with doodling on the bandage that had recently appeared on Zoro's arm, taking advantage of the fact that his green-haired friend had fallen asleep in his chair.

Zoro had declined all delicate inquiry as well as bold-faced questions regarding the history of the suddenly bandaged appendage. Chopper was the only one who knew what had happened and turned a concerning shade of white anytime anyone tried to ask him about it.

"Rare it is," Sanji said, turning back to his task, ignoring Luffy's objections.

Sanji had appeared in their lives at around the same time Usopp made his entrance. The two young men had both answered an ad about housemates Nami had put out when she, Zoro and Luffy started their studies. As the house they were looking at only had one extra bed, Zoro had suggested a trial by combat to choose who would join them, but as both boys soon proved to be both helpful and dependable, they decided to make do with what they had and just cram into the small house, affectionately named Maison de Merry in honour of their landlord.

The lack of space nonetheless became extremely apparent when Vivi moved in and then out again in somewhat quick succession and Chopper, transferring in the middle of the year, took up residence on their sofa. After that first chaotic year, they had found their current peace in the creaky corners of the Sunny.

Although he denounced the obvious stereotypes loudly and often, the blond Frenchman had soon taken over the kitchen, muttering something about the others' abysmal skills in the art of cooking and how 'he couldn't believe the French had to come and save the day again'. He didn't much care for the traditional birthday present (which consisted of baguettes) or letting anyone else than either himself or Nami do the grocery shopping (as they would include the choicest frog's legs and snails, no matter what he put on the shopping list) nor letting anyone else into the kitchen except to eat (as he would then find croissants all over the place), but after giving the culprits (Luffy and Usopp) a stern talking to and a couple of whacks, he usually calmed down and served them dinner.

At the moment, he was clad in a frilly apron with a curly font proclaiming that someone should 'Kill the cook', courtesy of Zoro, putting the finishing touches to tomorrow's dessert that apparently had to solidify overnight. The others had withdrawn to the living room, leaving Nami at the rapidly darkening kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and watching Sanji work.

There was something soothing about his precise movements and confident actions, moving from cupboard to sink to cutting board to fridge, before starting the dance all over again; a mellow humming the only noise in the kitchen, warm light reflecting in the dark windows and casting everything in a glow so comfy and homely that one could easily have mistaken the scene for a commercial for a dating service or pet food or diapers or something of that ilk.

A pensive air filled the space, relaxing and calming, filling Nami with an unfamiliar sense of repose and quiet. Even the light seemed somehow richer in its glow overhead, painting the shadows a charming hue of familiarity and comfort.

"Do you believe in true love?" Sanji suddenly asked, whisking something in a bowl, leaning on the counter. Nami started, having lost herself in her thoughts, trying to shake the creeping feeling of having to look over her shoulder to check for dancing babies.

There was something weird about the kitchen. It usually felt calm and collected, never this intimate and circumspectly private.

Maybe the house was up to something again. It had, after all, once locked Luffy in the attic for three days before. They had finally found him talking to the birds nesting in the cracks in the roof like some maniacal prince from a deranged fairy tale. The most plausible theory so far was that Luffy had insulted the house by his throwaway suggestion of repainting the staircase.

"Why do you ask?"

Sanji shrugged, adding an egg to whatever it was he was doing. "Just curious. You know what I think about it, but I realised I've never heard your take on it all. And for some reason, the ambience here is really, really tender at the moment." Sanji looked confused. "That's weird. I usually don't say that out loud."

Nami gave a wry smile. "A romantic indeed! You believe in true love. And with every woman you meet." She furrowed her brows. The feeling of closeness and confidentiality was growing on her. Like mould. "There's something off with the kitchen."

Sanji smiled, depositing the mysterious substance in tiny cups and placing them carefully in the fridge before starting the venerated ceremony of wiping down the surfaces.

"I'll be done in a minute, let's go join the dunderheads after that. But first, fair maiden, your answer!" He brandished a newly washed spatula like a sword at Nami, an expression of the most mocking seriousness on his face.

"Neither fair, nor maiden, good sir," Nami said, laughing at Sanji's shocked face and the way he clutched at his proverbial pearls. She then sank into a sigh, playing with her spoon, making it run round the rim of her cup. Round and round we go and where it stops nobody knows…

"I don't know about love. There's over seven billion people on this planet, and you think one person is the one true love for you?"

"Maybe not one, but maybe one that's true enough," Sanji said with a crooked smile lifting the corner of his mouth, leaning against the sink as he dried the last of the glasses. Nami answered his smile with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head.

"Sometimes I think Vivi was it for me, but then I remember how we drove each other up the bend," she said with a wry smile. "Literally. We'd have killed each other before long. Either out of general frustration or from exhaustion brought about by too much sex."

There was always something weirdly enjoyable seeing Sanji choke on air, Nami reflected as she deposited her empty cup in the sink and gave the blond a couple of whacks in the back as he tried to hack up a lung.

"I always forget your poor sensibilities," she said when he managed to calm down. "You'll live."

"I think you're right," Sanji managed to wheeze. "It's nice you two are still friends, though. Not many people manage that."

"It did take some work," Nami allowed. "I count myself lucky we managed to sort ourselves out. But she's a truly lovely person, just not the true love for me, or whatever it was you said."

"Well, plenty of fish in the sea!"

"True, but do you know what else there is?" She poked idly at a stain ingrained in the wooden table, waiting for Sanji to get his apron off and deposited on its proper peg. "Trash. There's a lot of trash in the sea. And I don't want to float in trash just to maybe have the change of finding a fish."

She held up a hand to stop what she knew was coming next. "Sanji, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine. I don't need to be in a relationship to be… whole, or complete, or whatever your view of peak human existence is."

"I know. You've just seemed so down lately, and I just thought–"

"It's not the anniversary of my and Vivi's break up," Nami said. "Although, thanks for reminding me now, I guess."

"As long as you're fine," he said, giving her a one-handed hug. "I know you're a strong, independent woman and not looking for anything, but I hope you know I'll always be here for you?" He gave her a small smile. "As a friend."

"Thanks, Sanji," Nami said. "And I'm going to miss you, you know." It was surprisingly cozy leaning against Sanji's side, the distant laughter from the living room creating a comforting blanket of ambient noise.

There really was something off about the kitchen tonight. She usually tolerated hugs, but she did not enjoy them.

"It's only a couple of months. And we'll be just a train ride and a message away from each other, anyway."

"I know," she said, smiling wearily. "But I've already done the whole 'alone in a new place and find your place'-dance once. I'd rather not do it again."

"You do realise it's your own choice to go abroad?" Sanji laughed, quickly tightening his grip before letting her go.

"I know, I know," Nami groaned. "But you could have come with me, instead of deciding to go to Paris like the stereotypical Frenchman you are."

"Je suis trés désolé," Sanji said in his poshest drawl, "for not seeing the charm of Munich you so clearly do and instead wanting my time abroad to actually include good education."

"Hey! The Technische Universität in Munich is a good school."

She shuddered, the warm light in the kitchen creeping up on her, reminding her of the glow of an old cast-iron oven. "But seriously, there's something weird about the kitchen right now. We should leave it to its fate. And never talk about feelings again."

When they joined their housemates in the living room, it was to a scene of carnage, making them stop in the door and Sanji to swear out loud.

Luffy had gotten a taste for cocoa during his and Nami's earlier stop and had decided to make some at home. And as Sanji had kicked them out of the kitchen to prepare for the next day's food extravaganza (commonly known as dinner), the only logical solution had been to make it in the fireplace.

Which worked according to the internal logic of the house, which meant sporadically and only if you asked it nicely.

There was cocoa everywhere, but at least Luffy, Chopper and Usopp seemed happy, curled up with their mugs and a veritable mountain of whipped cream on top. Usopp had even managed to scrounge a bag of marshmallows from some mysterious place which might or might not be the shed out back. The trio was now occupied by stretching the limits of Luffy's powers in the most literal sense.

"Do you think I could fit fifteen marshmallows into my mouth?" Luffy asked with a pensive look.

Nami yawned as she curled up next to a snoring Zoro, enjoying his internal furnace. "You're a hazard to society."

Sanji laughed and shook his head, heading towards the back door and his scheduled smoke break. "And a coward. Do twenty."

"What's the last record?"

"I've done twelve," Luffy said with a proud look on his face, slightly too earnest for someone with a dab of whipped cream on his nose. "But I think I can work my way up to fifteen. Twenty might be on the edge, but I'm no coward."

With that, he started emptying the bag of marshmallows and sort the pieces in equal piles. Nami merely shook her head as she watched Usopp sketch something with a lot of billowing cloaks and swords, Chopper idly kicking his hooves back beside him.

"If a plant is sad, do other plants photosympathize with it?" Luffy asked all of a sudden, counting the fluffy pieces of sugar and spice and all things nice in front of him with an air of utmost concentration.

"I chlorofeel you, man," Usopp nodded sagely, carefully shading a pommel. "There's aloe of vera interesting theories regarding plant emotions around. Did you know that they can be friends and react to their surrounding trees being felled?"

"Are they pine-ing?"

Nami groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "I hate my life."

A sad exclamation of disappointment made it clear that there weren't enough pieces left for Luffy to attempt his marshmallow test.

"I knew it. You're a coward," Sanji said, returned from the scary outdoors.

"I'm not a coward," Luffy protested. "There's simply not enough marshmallows left."

"Coward."

"Curly-brow."

"Rubber menace."

"Cook."

"That's not an insult," Usopp cut in, looking entertained as he put away his drawing supplies.

"French cook."

"And that, my friend, is what we call a fact."

"This is the longest day of my life," Nami said, shaking her head. "I should just give up."

"At least you are one day closer to your next plate of nachos," Sanji said.

Luffy looked up, starry eyed and the latest attempt at an insult totally forgotten. "That is the greatest thing I've ever heard! Can we have nachos tomorrow?"

Chopper looked troubled, abandoning his attempts to get the last half-melted marshmallow out of his cup. "But what if I die tomorrow and never eat any more nachos?"

Luffy gasped, a horrified expression slowly unfolding as he contemplated the possibility of never eating nachos again, while Usopp merely grinned. "Then it's nacho lucky day."

Nami's groan was loud enough to wake Zoro who sat up with a jerk.

"But I have another question," Chopper said, head in hoof, his thoughts apparently on a roll this evening. "What happens to nitrogen when the sun rises?"

Nami never knew if Chopper really was the oblivious and innocent little dear he both looked and acted like, or if he just wound her up very, very slowly.

"It becomes daytrogen," Usopp answered.

"And I'm out," Nami said, rising from the couch, shaking her head.

"Good nitrogen!" wished Chopper.

"Sleep tightrogen!" hollered Luffy.

"Don't let the bedbugs bitrogen!" from Sanji, the traitor.

Ontology: the knowledge of reality; the branch of metaphysics dealing with the nature of being

Epistemology: the theory of knowledge, especially with regard to its methods, validity, and scope, and the distinction between justified belief and opinion.

I hope, from the bottom of my heart that you won't encounter them in a dark alley somewhere.

Also; trees do communicate and have friends. The Smithsonian had an interesting article about it called "Do Trees Talk to Each Other?"