"– and thank you for that insight, miss Nefertari. Sadly enough, we don't have time for a more in-depth discussion today but if any of you would like to continue, I've been planning to see if the recommendations I've got about the Mermaid Café are worth their salt and do invite you to join me there to see if we can find out if we can change both the past and the external world, since if they exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable–"
Nami was in raptures.
She didn't usually break out her Austen-inspired vocabulary, but the occasion necessitated the most convoluted, debonaire and refined vernacular she held in her possession.
The last hour had been the most interesting of her university experience so far.
Even Robin hadn't been able to make research methods as interesting as Donquixote Doflamingo, as the last candidate had introduced himself in passing, halfway through their session; merely as a comment to a question on that yes, he did know the work on phronesis by Donquixote, Beto et al, since he happened to be Donquixote of Donquixote, Beto et al.
A sudden influx of unexpected spring sunlight, streaming in through tall windows, had highlighted tanned skin, accentuated by a crisp, off-white linen shirt as he leaned back on his table with an almost careless smile thrown the room. It had been like a cheerier Caravaggio, all dramatic light and playful shadow, caught in a moment of perfection. His personality enveloped the room in warmth and curiosity and Nami could not stop staring.
Her skin felt too tight as he smiled that wide, disarming smile, one side of his mouth rising slightly higher than the other, a suggestion of white teeth visible behind those soft-looking lips. She completely lost track of what they were discussing and it was the utmost effort to drag herself back to the present when Vivi said something about the problems inherent in a positivistic worldview beside her and he was looking their way and she needed to be at her best. And then the limelight of his attention passed over to some other inconsequential sod who could not be too deeply despised and she could breathe again. Her fingers clutched haplessly at her pen, earning her a harsh jab in the ribs by Vivi, when he stretched in his seat, pointing at something hastily scribbled on the ancient blackboard and his tight, white shirt stretched over that broad, broad chest and all the air in the room disappeared again which was a pity since she had just relearned how to exchange oxygen…
The cheerful smile had seemed directed at everyone in general and each one in particular. Those dimples and white teeth and cheerful chuckle were all both uplifting and self-assured, as if they existed to say that Yes, I am amazing. But so are you and don't YOU forget that.
The way he gestured when making a point, long fingers energetic in their gestures brought forth a slight blush to colour her cheeks.
And the cheeks of Vivi as well.
And Shirahoshi.
Donquixote Doflamingo was fit as all seven circles of hell.
And not the Seven Circles pub in the small Norwegian village of Hell, whence Luffy and Zoro had sent her a postcard when they visited last summer.
If sex appeal had a human form, it surely was Donquixote Doflamingo, BS, MSc, ImD, MDiv, JD, PhD, AoM, AMA, EtC.
And that mind…
The way he drew parallels between materialism and composers, vectors from realism to painters, metaphors to idealism to rock stars to pop culture, had made her see the concept of being and reality, existing and becoming in a completely new light.
The way he had actually engaged them in discussion as valued equals instead of lowly students as some were wont to do was exhilarating. Robin was good at it, in her own way, but few in Nami's acquaintance had such a laid-back, easily approached personality as Donquixote.
The way he managed to draw even the most timid of their classmates –people she hadn't heard utter a word during the whole course– into heated debates and argue passionately for their stance, but still keep them calm, collected and focused on the topic at hand made her gape in awe.
Nami could but stand, stock-still as his tall figure disappeared into the afternoon sun, surrounded by a self-selected coterie of classmates drawn in by the possibility to continue discussions after class.
That never happened.
Not about the lecture's contents, at least.
In a way, it was fortunate that she had a most successful final educational opportunity to think back on, since from there on, her last week was pure torture and hell.
And hell in the most literal sense, not the small Norwegian town with most excellent spirits and a hilarious train station, as attested to by Zoro and Luffy's European Road Trip Of Dubious Fame and Much Notoriety.
First, she had to tie up all the last dangling threads at the department to leave things spick and span for Mona, due to return from her sabbatical shortly after Nami would leave for her exchange.
Second, a sudden deluge of information regarding a most perplexing acquaintance who might have the best arse and the most annoying habit of leaving coffee cups all over the place made her question everything she knew about him.
Third, said acquaintance ruined all future prospects for a most beloved friend and she would never forgive him for that.
Nami's least favourite part of quitting a job was the final Cleaning Of The Desk. There were always a thousand small things forgotten in the nooks and crannies: sharp tacks hiding in the darkness, hunting for unwary travellers; receipts that should have been handed over to accounting months, or even years, ago; and usually a sad, shrivelled sort of bean that might have been something edible at one point in time.
So far, she had unearthed a small lock with an accompanying key that didn't fit said lock, three buttons and a creepy mechanical doll that was still in working order. The lock had been jimmied open and applied to Law's suitcase that for some reason was at the office; the buttons were inspected and discarded, and the doll wound up and placed in a drawer she knew Law wouldn't open for at least a few weeks.
She'd have to remember to ask Bepo about Law's reaction when time came.
She was just dusting off her hands, content with the work of the day, when Bepo appeared, carrying coffee.
She'd treasure him forever and miss him eternally when she was languishing away in Germany.
She'd treasure the glowering man following in his shadow a bit less.
"How did it go?" the mink asked as he offered her a steaming cup. Law merely seated himself, folding his unfairly long legs under his cramped desk with unnecessary grace.
Even the way his lips pursed as he tried to cool his coffee down was unfairly elegant in Nami's unbiased opinion.
"Luffy almost challenged the second one to fisticuffs over the definition of 'concept'. Some ancient oak of a man from Tokyo University. Sakamoto, maybe? Shakiyaku?" she answered as she accepted the caffeinated offering.
"Sakazuki Fumihiko? Never met him, but I've heard he's not the pleasantest man around," Law interjected in her and Bepo's very private conversation.
Which happened to take place in the same room he was in.
Which also happened to be his temporary office and he therefore had all the right in the world to be there.
Terribly rude of the man, really.
"He seemed ready to whack Luffy with a ruler."
"What a lovely return to traditional teaching methods."
"He also threatened to throw the book at Zoro, if he didn't stop snoring. I think he meant it literally; he was weighing the course book in his hand as he said that, a calculating gleam in his eyes."
"The hardcover? Ouch," Bepo winced, instinctually covering.
"Now I'm almost sad I couldn't be there," Law said, amusement evident in his voice.
"Be happy you don't have to attend lectures," Nami grumbled, checking for the fourth time that she hadn't forgotten anything else in her drawers. Satisfied with their state of empty being, she rose and stretched, trying to work out a twinge in her back. "Well, it went better than with Ceasar."
Law scoffed, eyebrows rising. "Caesar Clown? Maybe I should have applied for the position if that's the level of applicant that were accepted to the live round."
Now it was Nami's turn to raise a sceptical eyebrow. "Didn't know you had the qualifications."
Law merely shrugged. "I like to surprise."
"Mysterious man."
"International man of mystery, if I may," he said, reaching for a sheaf of papers placed on the highest shelf they had for safekeeping. Although the number of visits had decreased as his thesis progressed, Luffy was still a menace to organised paperwork. He was a nimble man with a wide range (in all senses of the word), but he usually didn't think too much about things not in his immediate line of sight. "Who was the one who will actually get the position?"
"Hrmpf?" came Nami's intelligent answer. She had been momentarily distracted by the way his dark turtleneck had ridden up an inch or so with his retrieval of Important Papers, exposing the lovely ripple of moving muscles and smooth skin, juxtaposed by the dark denim of his trousers and framed by the soft cashmere of his sweater.
She might have ran a hand or two over the material when he last left it in the office, carelessly thrown over his chair. It was as soft as the calming breeze on a spring day and as warm as the sunshine in the heart of summer.
He had been wearing it at Sanji's farewell party and she distinctly remembered the softness radiating from it, where he had sat beside her on the couch. There and then she had entertained naughty thoughts related to theft and robbery and possibly clobbering Law in order to get her hands on it.
It really was a nice sweater.
Alas, the good influence of Vivi and proximity of Bepo's soulful eyes had managed to tamp down her more visibly criminal characteristics and with a mournful sigh, she had let the fabric fall back, slipping through her fingers like water and pool on his chair in a puddle of luxurious warmth and comfort.
"There's always three candidates. So, who was the third one, whom I deduce is somewhat more competent than Sakazuki and Cesar?" Law said, returning to his computer screen and cooling cup of coffee. The retrieved papers were carelessly placed on top of the small hill of documents that usually formed towards the end of the week, only to be cleaned up by the force of a nagging Bepo at suitable intervals.
"Some guy from over the pond in possession of a very difficult name. A lot of X's and I's that upset my delicate Scandinavian sensibilities. He was the best of the lot, though, so we'll have to wait and see. But Vivi said that the Dean will make his final decision in the coming days so waiting will not be for long before seeing begins."
"How does that woman know everything that goes on at this place?"
"Soulful eyes and disarming kindness?"
"Probably that," Law conceded. "With a hint of eavesdropping."
"I do not eavesdrop!"
Nami almost yelped at the sudden intrusion, clasping a hand to her chest as wild eyes searched for the sudden noise. She didn't have to search long: Vivi was standing in the doorway, arms akimbo and cheeks puffed up, a morose Shirahoshi behind her.
"Sure," Law said with a smirk, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair comfortably. "The last minutes of hovering were, what, tying your shoes?"
"I was just wondering when to interrupt your little tête-à-tête," Vivi huffed, nose in the air. "Since you were both so very busy with your little discussion."
Nami merely sighed, shaking her head. She loved Vivi, but the woman had a flair for dramatics a mile wide and two deep.
"What do you take Bepo for? A potted plant?" she said, gesturing to the mink who gave Vivi an embarrassed little wave.
"An unfortunate bystander."
"Bystander, schmystander. What are you doing here, princess?" Nami asked, smile tugging at her face.
And she most certainly did eavesdrop.
"Gathering you for our celebratory post-course gathering," said Vivi.
Nami started, looking at her watch. "I didn't realise it was so late! Just give me five minutes, I need to print a few more things."
"And then straight down to the quad, you hear me?" Vivi shook an admonishing finger before flouncing away, skirts sweeping around her in a graceful arch.
Nami would have killed to get the woman's confidence: no matter if you got caught doing something you shouldn't have (like eavesdropping on a very private conversation), just treat it as your natural right to do whatever it was (i.e. eavesdrop) and the problems just disappear.
It probably helped that Vivi was a bona fide princess and had in fact been brought up to view everything she did as her natural right and fulfilling the natural order of things.
That she was kindness and loveliness and cheerfulness personified, ensuring that she would never consciously abuse her powers did help some.
Shirahoshi gave them a small wave as she followed in a much less dramatic fashion, better suited to the dignity of academia.
The effect was a tad lessened by her transparent backpack, adorned with a legion of pins for her latest cultural obsession. If Nami was any judge, it was the same Japanese manga-universe which Zoro had given a go during the autumn: some sort of pirate story, with a myriad of little Jolly Rogers decking her jolly sac a dos.
"Gathering your things, Nami?" Bepo asked as he carefully placed his coat on a hanger before hanging it on the ancient coatrack standing vigil in the corner.
"Yes," Nami answered distractedly, trying to find the right form in the inscrutable maze that was the university's intranet. It was only natural that the Dean would ask her for 'a last favour, won't take long at all…' the day she was leaving the wretched office.
"We're all on the move, it would appear," Bepo chuckled. "Law, when are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow."
"Where are you going?" Nami asked absentmindedly, unplugging her computer once she was sure the print had gone through.
"La belle pays de France," Law said, eyes glued to his computer.
"What?"
"I am leaving for France tomorrow," he said slowly, pronouncing every word with exaggerated care, consonants crisp and precise.
"I. Heard. You." Nami had excellent hearing – it was the context she lacked. "Why. Are. You. Going. There?"
"Project," he grunted, frantically tapping away at the keyboard.
"They got back to you? That's great!" said Bepo, happiness evident in his voice as he leafed through a print-out, before groaning in dismay, head drooping.
Nami took the small fan she had left out for such occasions and started to try and dispel the dark clouds gathering around him.
Bepo murmured his unheeding assent as he carefully went through the sheaf of papers in his hand again, hoping against rational expectation that whatever was missing had materialised since he last looked. With a sad sigh, he rose from his creaky chair and left, muttering something about making the printer regret it had ever been manufactured.
"I just wish I wouldn't have to leave tomorrow," Law said, brow furrowed. He closed his laptop with a sigh, mouth turned down as he rubbed his temples. Even that didn't seem to help, as he suddenly rose, stalking to the window and took up a pose of vigilance and eternal watchfulness, arms clasped behind him and eyes focused on the quad outside.
Nami quirked an eyebrow – was that regret in Law's voice? She didn't know the man was capable of more feelings than placid, critical, dismayed or maybe slightly curious if presented with an interesting problem to solve.
"Problems in paradise?" she asked as she checked that she had everything for the fifteenth time. She'd rather not come back anymore; although her train would not leave until Friday evening, leaving her with a weekend in Paris with Sanji, her whole being was filled to the brim with the office. She couldn't wait for her miniature break in the city of love, (as Sanji so helpfully kept reminding her, accompanied by a legion of hearts in their group chat) before embarking on an exchange term in Munich, the city of tight leather trousers and beer.
That Law would be in France as well came as an unwelcome surprise. Of course, it was a huge country and had several highly regarded academic institutions and the probability that he'd be in the same region was slim to none, close to zero really, nothing to worry about.
But still.
She'd rather not spend any time in France with her grumpy officemate, even by accident.
Not because of any unresolved thoughts, feelings or notions.
It just felt unprofessional to even entertain the thought of a weekend in Paris with Trafalgar Law.
But Law didn't show any recognition of such feelings, merely rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck, rolling his head from side to side. The light played over the play of muscle and tendon in his neck, creating a delicious contrast of inky hair brushing against the top of his collar, smooth skin moving sinuously against the sharp creases and folds of the garment.
Nami tried to hide the blush climbing up her cheeks by wrapping her face in her overgrown scarf, the knitted mikans and the Laplace-Gauss distribution they followed lending her their strength.
She should really look into her vitamins if a mere piece of clothing could have such an effect on her well-being.
"Sometimes you've got to make hard decisions," Law finally said, a cloud passing over his countenance as he turned to face her.
As he fixed his golden eyes on her, Nami froze, caught in their sharp focus.
"What sort of hard decisions does a postdoc of your calibre ever have to make? What university to grace with their presence?" Nami asked with a sweetness frantically steeped in arsenic in order to stave off the inevitable.
"Sometimes. And sometimes it's much smaller things. Or bigger, if you want to look at them in that way."
He was suddenly standing very close.
"Oh," was all she managed, her breath caught in her throat at the sudden proximity.
A moment felt like an eternity, russet eyes caught in a golden gleam, the air between them dancing on pinpricks and hanging on a breath.
The moment was altered by a sudden blue glow enveloping them, a sheaf of papers appearing in his hand.
"Here's your printout."
Nami accepted the papers with confused gratitude and a raised eyebrow. "Couldn't you have done that for Bepo as well?"
"He'll be here forever. You'll be gone tomorrow." He shrugged, dispelling the last remains of tension. "It just felt right."
"Right."
"Don't question nice things, Nami."
Nami felt her heart stop, the force of her name slamming into it with the force of a thousand sons.
Suns would have been more poetic, but the force wasn't quite that great.
Nevertheless, she appreciated the weight.
It was the first time he had used her name.
The sun was setting, painting the stone walls outside a flaming orange, the edges tinted with blue shadows. The normal bustle and hustle of the administrative side of academia had died out for the day; unlike research labs, where unlucky doctoral students could be heard sobbing in the witching hour, the offices usually quieted down for the night.
Nothing stirred, not even the latest gene experiment down in biotech, covered in scales and feathers and snoring with a gentle rasp in its voice.
Nothing stirred, except for one research assistant, up on the third floor.
Bepo looked at the crumpled paper in his paw, numbers smudged from rubbing against the sides of the rubbish bin.
He had been cleaning up for their move back to the original corner office allotted to them, cleaning up old notes and papers, mildly ushering them to their rightful place in the recycling.
And then this…
If it would be as easy with humans as it was with minks. You all knew that everyone were equipped with a very good sense of smell indeed and that pheromones were pungent when the moon was right and the hormones cruising along. There was no question of if and when and who and why. You were both down to it or not, easy as that.
Obviously, that was the case with humans as well. They didn't even realise how they stank. He'd had to open all windows wide and put on the old, tinny fan he had found in a cupboard when Law was at his worst, pining.
Humans instead relied on visual and auditory clues, with a heavy proportion of touch as well. Such things were not unknown among the minks, and even encouraged and appreciated once a couple decided to go forth and procreate, but deemed highly personal and totally inappropriate before the later stages of courtship. For them, smell was the personal and intimate aspect of the whole ordeal.
How peculiar. Everyone knew that different minks had different amounts of olfactory glands, but everyone furthermore knew that it made it so much easier to communicate when you knew what the other person felt. No more fake bravado or hiding behind words. It was much more honest to rely on biochemical processes in your nose.
But it was considered rude to point out the humans' lack of sense or the inferiority of their sense of smell. Or to ask the females of the hairless minks if they wanted some chocolate when their cycle was on them. 'Invasive!' Nami had once huffed, before she clutched his chocolatey offering to her chest and disappeared for the day.
The polar bear shook his head, creating a very localised snowstorm of brilliantly white fur. He then sighed and carefully brushed it up.
He glanced at the paper one last time, before carefully folding it and placing it in his notebook for safekeeping. Nami might want it back, if she and Law ever got around to vocalising their feelings properly.
He had smelled it ages ago.
Minks were so much easier.
Thank you for your patience with me while waiting for the next chapter.
The last months have been very heavy. I am currently living in a country that just decided to apply for NATO, although the stress from uncertainty of what Putin may do is of course is nothing to the horrors experienced by the Ukrainian people on a daily basis. If you can, please help the people most affected. Both the Red Cross and UNHCR do great work there, as of course other, more local organisations.