Chapter Twenty-Five | Every Colour of the Rainbow

"You made this? It's… woah, Usopp. This is brilliant."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. How the hell- I don't understand how it works but it does, and this is just a prototype?"

Ten minutes ago Usopp had handed her what he'd dubbed 'The Climatact.' Three rods that could be connected to form a staff, but when detached, arrayed in specific orders, or even depending on how you held it, the climatact could create heat, cold, control the humidity of one's immediate surroundings…

The damn thing was magic as far as Quinn was concerned and yet it was made of simple, mundane steel, not a hint of otherworldly anything to be found no matter how many times she looked it over.

She still couldn't wrap her head around it. It shouldn't work. By all means, this little device in her hands was an impossibility when judged by any metric, and yet it worked.

How the fuck does it work?

"Well, I haven't worked out all the kinks yet but yeah, it's a prototype."

Giving him a withering look, she hefted the climatact in both hands and returned to studying it, before giving up entirely. This is beyond me, Quinn groused to herself, wishing for the first time in her life that Hogwarts had covered (at the very least) basic sciences instead of focusing wholly on the intricacies of magic. But, just because the science of it was beyond her didn't mean that it couldn't be augmented with runes.

"Give me a day with this thing and I'll be able to tune up every part of it. Temperature control, humidity, the works. Once I'm done with it Nami will have weather on a leash."

"Awesome! And my slingshot?"

Humming, Quinn took the offered sling and looked it over. Plain wood lathered in an even layer of green paint. Leather pouch, corded rubber string, it was well made and looked after with noticeable care. She hadn't ever had the chance to really study Usopp's weapon of choice, the same going for Zoro's swords, though she doubted he'd let her do anything to the three of them. Treated them like his own kids, he did.

"So… there's a number of things I could do to augment your sling, but my question is what do you think would help you? There's only so many runes I can pack onto something this size, and I wouldn't be able to make any changes to it like I've done my pistol." Patting the holster at her side, Quinn never thought she'd be so relieved to have the now familiar weight of a firearm hanging off her waist. "Witches and wizards only, I'm afraid."

"What could you do? Because range with my sling is a bit so-so," he said, hand wobbling from side to side. "Speed, maybe? But that would make it like a gun at that point…"

"What would happen if you built a new slingshot?"

"A new one?"

"Using this as a blueprint," Quinn continued, pointing at the climatact. "If it was a big enough sling… scratch what I said earlier, I think I could make this work even without you being a wizard."

Grabbing a pencil off Usopp's desk and a sheaf of paper, she sketched out a rough runic array. Drawing in ambient magic and then assisting the climatact but, instead of it being a climatact it was a weather spinning slingshot… this for fire, that for ice and water, another set of runes to draw wind into shots so that they fly farther, hit harder-

Her hand dashed across the page, futhark and cuneiform jumbled together in a maddening cluster of half-baked magic. "I think- I think it could work."

"With all… that? Magic stuff? Also, what could work?"

"Your slingshot. If you made a new one, something large enough for me to carve out the needed arrays and- and this is the most important part-" Reaching over Quinn grabbed the climatact and pushed it into Usopp's hands. She pointed at it with gusto, prodding the steel with every word that flew from her mouth. "-It has to be built like this. Whatever you did to make this work, we can make it work for a slingshot as well."

"No. No." His jaw dropped again. "Fire?"

"Fire."

"Ice?"

"Loads of it."

"Lightning?"

"That's a tricky one. But… maybe? No promises on the lightning, seeing as it'd take Nami's expertise to conjure that up on demand with a tool like this. Local weather, whether or not it's raining, I don't know. I don't know enough about the fundamentals of why lightning happens. Magic tends to ignore the rules."

"But this is magic. Isn't it?"

"Magic assisted. The basis of it is still your, once again, bloody impressive invention."

Preening, Usopp puffed out his chest. "It is impressive, isn't it?"

"It is. We invented aeroplanes and nuclear power but packing weather shifting whatever inside three steel pipes…" Cutting herself off, she poked him in the chest. "Don't get full of yourself, now."

Usopp laughed, gently nudging Quinn aside so he could look at her sketch. "I think if I built a slingshot about… this tall, give or take," he said, stretching his arms out in approximation before continuing. "And had all this running up to a spout… I could maybe infuse a projectile as I fire it? Do you think that would work?"

"You're the engineer here. But if you can make a slingshot that does that, I'll add the finishing touches to give it that extra oomph. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. Sounds very good." Hand twitching, he reached out and grabbed the pencil Quinn had used earlier, tapping it on the table before scribbling out a rough diagram. "I think… I think I know what to do. I'll take the gag stuff out of the climatact before I get started on this, and I'll let you know when it's ready."

She nodded, recognizing the look in his eye as one Hermione often held when confronted with a puzzle. "Want me to leave you to it?"

"Would that be okay?"

"You need space to think, that's fine by me. Just gimme' a holler, alright?"

"Sure. Sure… and thanks again, Quinn."

"Any time." Stepping out of the workshop and into the midday sun, she knocked twice against the wall and waved her goodbye before shutting the door. And, as Quinn turned around, she jumped in fright at the sight that met her, a hand to her chest and a string of curses on her lips.

"What the- fucking hell. Need a bell on you," she exclaimed, looking down at a pint-sized Marianne.

"I'd like to speak with you."

"Would you?"

The girl had given her curious glances since Little Garden, and many more in the day since leaving Drum. Last night's party had been a quiet affair, for the Straw Hats at least, and for the second time she found herself immensely thankful for the changes this world had put her body through. Without them she wouldn't have survived the hangover, and Zoro and Nami would most likely be dead a dozen times over.

But Marianne, even with the party about, drinks flowing, and the resulting loosening of lips around a girl who amounted to little more than a glorified captive, had barely spoken. Her attention had been mostly captured by Chopper, who she had followed for most of the evening, occasionally reaching out to pat his felt top hat and offer him a faint smile.

That silence was broken, it seemed, and it was Quinn who now held the girl's attention.

"Yes. I would like to speak with you. I just said that, didn't I?"

"Yeah. Guess you did. Right then, Galley?"

Marianne nodded, her lips sealed, and Quinn sighed internally as she led the girl up the stairs and into the relative quiet of the galley. She took a seat at the small dining table, pulling out the ashtray and lighting a cigarette, pointing with it at the chair across from herself. "Let's talk."

The girl in front of her was short. Shorter than even herself. Sitting down, the table came up to her chest, just below the arms, enough so that she could eat without any difficulty but just barely. "You invited me onto this ship," Marianne began, crossing her arms atop the table and resting her chin on them. "You could have easily killed me or left me on Little Garden. Why?"

Taking a drag, the smoke that billowed over her head hung like a stormcloud. She watched it curl in on itself, shifting through the dusty rays that poured through the porthole windows. "I don't know," she answered after another moment of thought, looking down at Marianne over her nose.

"You… don't know?"

She sounded genuinely perplexed, even with her usual monotone. "No. Not specifically, but… you're young, for one. But I think the main thing was, you didn't act like the other agents. You're not a killer like them. Like me."

"And how would you know that?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you're just like them. Go on." Quinn sat back in her chair, falling into the habits she'd cultivated for interrogation. Death Eaters never expected disinterest from her, a blasé war hero with half-lidded eyes and a dry smile, her words a stark mirror to the airs she put on in those little, windowless rooms. Curt, rude, cruel even. It put them on the back foot, made them second guess themselves.

And it seemed to work on Marianne, the girl's eyes flicking to the side, away from Quinn. Shy. Possibly ashamed. With a very tentative brush across her surface thoughts, only enough to get an inkling of emotion and avoid a migraine, Quinn's hypothesis was supported immediately by the roiling guilt and anxiety coursing at the forefront of Marianne's mind.

"You a killer, Marianne?"

"What? How did you-?"

"Tea?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Would you like some tea?"

Blinking, she looked back at the counter, the kettle resting atop it, before returning her attention to Quinn. "What kind of tea?"

"Dunno the names. Got some black tea, bit of a gaffer's tea sort of blend, nothing fancy – and something close to oolong, I think. Either way, it's greenish."

"...Black, please."

"Girl after my own heart. Milk? Sugar? Eh, I'll just bring it over." With a lazy wave of the hand, Quinn summoned the milk and sugar over, setting it gently on the table. Another flick of the wrist set the kettle beneath the tap, filling it before dropping it atop the stove. Finally, a snap of the fingers to set the burner. "There we go. All we have to do now is wait."

Her display of magic was part intimidation, part show of trust. Another way to get into Marianne's head, to evoke honesty through surprise.

"You're a devil fruit user."

"I suppose you could say that."

Grabbing the sugar and spinning the small glass container between her hands, Marianne tilted her head. Her hair, which had once been pulled into tight pigtails when Quinn had first laid eyes on the girl, now puffed out in all directions, a ruddy scarlet afro that bobbed with her movements. "The swordsman calls you Witch."

"He does."

"I've never heard of the Witch Fruit."

"Heard of the Rubber Fruit either?"

She shook her head. "No. I haven't."

"That answers your question, then." Quinn's succinct reply was punctuated by the whistle of the kettle, and with another lazy wave it was brought to the table. The kettle floated, tilting forward to pour steaming water into a chubby looking teapot, all squat and round. It was sent back to its home with another curt wave, the flames of the stove flickering out and the dial spun shut.

She'd have to make that magical sometime soon. Didn't do well to have open flames aboard a wooden ship. The same went to the lantern hanging from the ceiling, its siblings below deck in the crew quarters.

"Baroque Works will kill me, you know."

Quinn hummed, pouring two cups of tea, pushing one of them across the table. "Why?"

"Failure means death," Marianne said simply, dropping a sugar cube into her tea. "It's what we're all told after joining."

Ah. But why is the winning question.

"And why did a girl like you join Baroque Works? A fighter, yes, but a painter first. Raw emotion poured into the tools of your trade, enough to evoke feelings from a single drop." She blew on her cup before taking a sip, sighing at the bittersweet nectar. A shit cheap cuppa, exactly what she was used to. "Were you chasing something? Running?"

Winning question it was, Marianne's grip tightening round the handle of her mug and the first seeds of emotion leaking through. A scowl, knitted brow, the darkening of her eyes. It was slight, but there if you knew what to look for, and Quinn knew the signs like she knew the back of her hand.

That was the first crack in the shell.

"I'm not running from anything."

"Chasing it is."

"I'm not-"

"Chasing what?" Raising a finger and then, after a brief pause, pointing it at Marianne, Quinn continued. "Chasing who?"

"Nobody. I'm not chasing anyone."

"That's right. It's more than that. A girl like you? A laid back, tea sipping painter? You look like you're going to fall over and take a nap half the time. No… there's a reason you joined Baroque Works. Something bigger than a person. Bigger than yourself. Oh. That's it. That's it right there-" Now she wagged her finger, chuckling to herself.

Grit overcoming laziness, dull eyes that hide determination. A young face, unsuited to the bloodshed required by her work. Nothing except a cause could compel a girl like her to dive into the underworld. A cause, and…

Guilt. Anxiety. The raw emotion that whirled at the forefront of Marianne's mind now made sense. This wasn't something she wanted out of her life, but it was something she chose nonetheless. A catalyst was needed, Quinn told herself. Something momentous. Something disastrous.

Her thoughts, her hypothesis, all of it was wrapped together and bundled into a neat little ball, and Quinn's voice softened as she continued speaking. "Something big happened… it drove you from your home."

"Why are you asking me all this?"

"Because Luffy likes you."

"...What?"

"He wouldn't have let you on the ship otherwise. That's just the kind of guy he is. Which means come Alabasta…" She tilted her head, thinking. "When we get to Alabasta, you just might get dragged along with us. Actually, no- you will get dragged along with us. I can practically guarantee it."

"What do you mean? You're going to force me to come with you?"

"Hell, he might ask you to join the crew."

That managed to break through Marianne's shell entirely. She choked on her tea, spitting it up all over the table and hacking, eyes like dinner plates and turned Quinn's way. Her hand raised, pointing across the table in accusation, face growing redder by the moment. "Bull- bullcrap," she choked, turning her head to the side and letting out one, massive cough. Finally, throat clear, she glared at Quinn with watery eyes. "That would be insane."

"Do we look sane to you? And bullcrap? You can watch people get tortured but you're worried 'bout getting your mouth washed out with soap?"

"I didn't have any choice, alright!" Pushing her tea aside, Marianne scowled across the table, proper emotion shining in her eyes. "My home was destroyed by pirates! Baroque Works took me in, they gave me a home, food- without them I'd be dead! But- I never- I never thought-" She cut herself off, looking away. "I never thought they'd be exactly the same. Worse, even. All I ever wanted to do was paint. That's it. My village… everyone there was an artist. We didn't have any money. We didn't need it. And they killed everyone for a handful of berries and a few barrels of ale."

Quinn's demeanor shifted instantly, the harsh guise of an interrogator stripped away. She hesitated briefly before reaching out, her hand offered as an olive branch, an admittedly clumsy attempt at comfort. "I'm sorry," she breathed, trying to convey with everything she had the genuine sympathy she felt for Marianne, who was now glaring at her hand as if it were poison. "I really, truly am."

"Are you? Or is this another way to get into my head? And how do you know my name anyways?"

"I'm a witch. I can read minds, in a way at least."

"You can read minds!?"

"Yes and no. I can hear some thoughts, pick at some memories. Your mind is an enigma to me. Synesthesia, right? Gave me a hell of a migraine when I tried to get in your head back on Little Garden. All I got out of you was your name and some emotions."

"That's it? Just my name?"

"Swear on my mother's grave," Quinn said, placing a hand over her heart.

"What am I thinking right now?"

"I'd rather not breach your privacy now that we've had a heart to heart."

"I said, what am I thinking right now?"

Sighing, Quinn braced herself for the coming headache and delved into Marianne's mind with a whispered 'Legilimens.' She was immediately met with a kaleidoscopic whirlpool of colours, smudged together in maddening patterns that brought to mind a thousand flavours, all of which rested on her tongue with stark artificiality. Approximations, not the real thing. Pushing past it all, she reached out for Marianne's current thoughts, feeling as though she were wading through a swamp. Flickers came to her, images appearing and disappearing faster than she could comprehend, but after a moment a pattern began to appear. A woman's hand holding a chisel, flecks of stone scattered on a workshop floor. A sculptor. A mother. Marianne's mother, smiling at her with dusty cheeks and bruised fingers, one strap of her coveralls close to snapping it had become so frayed.

As soon as that image was made clear Quinn retreated, cursing under her breath and realizing after a second that she'd already begun kneading her temples. "Fuckin' hell," she grumbled, taking off her glasses. "Your mother. She was a sculptor. You were remembering her workshop."

"...You can read minds."

"Told you I could."

"Then… were you lying? About your Captain?"

"Him?" She shook her head. "No. He really does like you. So does Chopper, new as he is to the crew."

The faintest smile worked its way across Marianne's face. "He's cute."

"Sure is."

Silence fell, and they sat there in the dusky galley in quiet contemplation. At least, Quinn imagined Marianne was in her head. She could hardly think with the headache picking at her skull. "Might need to take a nap," she said to herself, squinting at the sun outside. "Really didn't want to go looking in your head."

"I'm sorry."

Waving her off, Quinn shrugged. "Don't apologise. You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"Yeah, well… I'm going to go watch the waves."

Grunting, she watched as Marianne got up and left, the door swinging shut with a clatter. She shuddered at the noise of it, hissing at the pain it brought. Quinn must have passed out at the table, because when she woke Sanji was standing at the stove, cooking up another meal that beckoned her to eat like a siren's call. Luffy sat next to her, his head on the table and his eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"You take a nap too?"

"Mmhm," he mumbled, smiling. "Felt tired."

"Anything happen while I was out?"

"Usopp sprayed Zoro with water. He said it was an accident." Grinning now, Luffy laughed aloud. "I thought it was funny."

"Must have been tinkering."

"Tinkering?"

"Inventing things."

"Oh. Cool. Also, uh- do you like Puffy?" he asked, cupping his hands to his ears and then pulling them away, something that Quinn realized after a moment of confusion was him pantomiming an afro.

"Marianne?"

"Is that her name?"

"Sure is."

He hummed. "Yeah. Her. Do you like her?"

"She seems alright. A bit troubled but… who isn't, eh?"

"So you like her."

"Yeah."

"Cool. I like her too."

-::-

The days passed by and the weather grew warmer. Their course to Alabasta was steady, any hiccups on the way made just that with the expertise of Nami to guide them. She'd appeared shaky those first weeks in the Grand Line, having to get used to a log pose and the bizarre weather patterns that struck them out of nowhere. It was more hectic at the start, that was true, but from it Quinn saw her friend adapt and learn. She could sense the shifting weather by the moisture in the air, feel the pressure drop and the oncoming storm it signaled. Nami didn't require a barometer or any other tool. No, all she needed was her mind and sense of touch.

And on occasion she'd point out unique phenomena. A clumsy word, Quinn thought, but one that stuck. Maybe it was because she'd heard it on the telly when the Dursley's watched the afternoon news, tomorrow's forecast drawn out in dulcet tones by a meteorologist who could have doubled as a supermodel.

Probably did, now that she thought about it. Fuzzy as her memory was, that woman sparked feelings in her that she couldn't put a word to until Lavender Brown kissed her after a D.A. meeting. Shook her up, that did. Cleared up all the confusion as well. Small wonder she was never interested in blokes. Should have figured things out sooner.

Now, though, was one of the times Nami pointed out something interesting. "See that steam?" she said, pointing at the clouds billowing from the sea. "There's an undersea volcano causing it."

"Really?"

"You don't smell the sulfur?"

Sniffing, Quinn's nose wrinkled in reflex. Pungent was one way to describe it. "I didn't until you mentioned it."

"It's been bothering me for the last five minutes," Chopper whined, rubbing his own nose, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "Not that I'm jealous of humans or anything- my sense of smell is just fine!"

Down on the deck, Usopp and Luffy sat next to each other with their legs hanging between the railing, a fishing pole in Luffy's hands. "I thought Usopp farted!"

"Hey!"

"You two catch anything?" Nami asked, Vivi stepping out of the galley and nodding at them.

"Nothing so far!"

"Has anyone seen Karoo?"

As Vivi asked that, a quack rang out, and Luffy leaned his head over the railing and hissed out, "Be quiet!"

Karoo, who had been strung up and used as fishing bait, was quickly relieved from his torment and brought back on deck. Quinn had to hold Vivi back from whalloping the two would-be fishermen, although she didn't hold it against her. Using Karoo as bait was especially stupid, even for Luffy and Usopp.

"Oi, you two. Thick and thicker – want proper bait?" she asked, once everything had calmed down and Karoo was given a tall glass of juice by Sanji, the duck now sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees and glaring at her Captain from his vantage point.

"Do you want us to tie you up? Do fish even like people?"

Rolling her eyes, Quinn stuck her hand out and summoned some scrap lumber from Usopp's workshop. "Lemme' check how much better my magic has gotten. See if I can't transfigure something."

Usopp raised a hand. "Transfigure?"

"Turn one thing into another."

He tucked a fist under his chin while Luffy used Usopp as a chair, sitting on his shoulders. They both watched as Quinn set the lumber down and frowned at it.

What should I even change it into?

Big fish. Big bait. Yet the only thing that came to mind when she thought of fishing was a worm on a hook, or the fish connected to it.

Might as well try that.

Shutting her eyes, she focused on the magic surrounding herself, the currents of it that rippled as would the sea. The last time she'd transfigured something was at Arlong Park, a trio of wolves that disappeared as soon as they'd been created. Difficult work without a wand, but Arlong Park was ages ago. She'd gotten a better understanding of how her magic worked here, a noticeable ease to her favourites.

Quinn could feel as much as see the crew around her, bubbles of life, of magic, milling about. Every living thing was magic, in its own way. Witches and Wizards liked to pretend that they were the only ones with magic in their veins, but even an ant held a sliver of a sliver of that lifeblood. It was a necessary part of life, as much a part of anyone or anything as water. The only difference was, it was mages who could harness it, who lived and breathed magic in a way no one else could.

She turned aside the vague, inexplicable auras that were the crew and tugged at the magic that swirled around them. Picturing a worm, no- another fish, squirming and wriggling and with dizzyingly brilliant scales, she pushed the magic into that scrap of wood laying at her feet and contorted it to fit her will. Quinn could feel as her magic mingled with that of the air, of the wood, like static electricity laced round her fingers, static that she used to twist the lumber into shape. Dimly, she could hear Usopp and Luffy chattering excitedly while they watched her work, and after another few seconds of focus she pulled herself back into the world of the living and set eyes on her creation.

A large, trout-like fish with bright eyes and scales the colour of the rainbow met her, and she tilted her head to see those scales ripple through each and every shade between, pearlescent, as the sun struck them at an angle.

"Can we just eat that instead?"

Quinn laughed, blinking the last blurry remnants of focus from her eyes. "Can't make food with magic. One of the rules of the universe, unfortunately. It'll taste like nothing and turn into air in your belly after an hour or so."

Pouting, Luffy hooked the, 'Lying-Fake-Stupid Fish,' as he called it and tossed it into the sea. The sulfur grew more rancid as the ship plunged into the cloud of stinking steam, and it wasn't until they'd made it out the other side that Luffy shouted in excitement. "I think I got something!"

"That quick?" she called back, jaw dropping when she and the rest of the crew saw what Luffy had reeled up.

A man in a fuzzy pink overcoat, a blue dress shirt, and a puffy pair of bloomers of the same colour that had to be held together with wire, what with the way it stuck rigid from his waist, like an oversized blueberry. Hell, there was a pair of taxidermied swans heads that jutted from the shoulders of his coat and wings that spread from his back, his bare legs curled up to his chest as he peered out at the crew, from beneath his shining bowl cut. It looked like he'd gotten tangled in the fishing line, and her transfigured bait was nowhere to be seen.

"You can put him back where you found him," Zoro deadpanned, squinting at the man.

"No! Please! I would have drowned without your help! My ship is… that way!" he shouted, pointing back towards the steam. "Can you bring me aboard until they circle back to get me?"

Before the man could finish his sentence, Luffy had pulled him aboard, patting him on the back and helping the stranger get untangled from the fishing wire. "Nice coat!"

"You're too kind! I designed it myself." With that said, the man bowed before them, his sopping wet clothes dripping onto the deck. "And thank you again, kind pirates! A devil fruit user like myself… the sea is a cruel mistress, and I would have perished without you."

"A devil fruit?" Luffy asked. "What's it do?"

"Well, it- oh my, you're a cutie aren't you?" Blowing a kiss at Vivi, the man winked. "Why, I'd just eat you up."

Ah. A Queen of Queens, Quinn realized, now admiring the ostentatious dress in a new light. Would have killed it at the Vauxhall with that getup.

"Ehm. Thank you?"

"Not a problem my dear! And you, the funny one! My devil fruit is perfect for a performer such as myself! In lieu of my usual show, why don't I…" With a lunge, he slapped Luffy in the face, and immediately had a gun drawn on him by Quinn, and Zoro's sword pointed at his throat. Sitting next to a now flabbergasted Luffy, Usopp had his slingshot drawn and aimed directly for the man. "Ta-dah!"

His voice had changed, he'd grown shorter, he'd- he'd turned into Luffy.

"Hell of a party trick," Quinn muttered, removing her finger from the trigger but keeping the gun trained on the man.

"I know, right!? Now, if I touch my face with my left hand.." He did just that, his body returning to normal. "I'm myself! And with my right.." The stranger reached for Quinn's face and she took a step back, his expression faltering. "Alright. Not one for shows I see. Well, how about you, and you, and you!" He continued, patting the rest of the crew's cheeks. Then, with artistic flourish he proceeded to transform into each and every one of them, posing as he did. "The Clone-Clone Fruit! My one true love!"

"Incredible!" Usopp, Luffy, and Chopper shouted in unison, rushing up to the man and cooing in amazement as he shifted through another jumble of faces, dancing about the deck all the while.

For her part, Quinn sighed and sat on the stairs leading to the galley, pistol hanging from her hand. She watched the four in front of her dance and laugh, forming an impromptu conga line, and after a few minutes of that she holstered her pistol and allowed herself to relax.

A wandering drag queen, sailing the high seas, she told herself, laughing at the idea. Must put on a hell of a show when the lights turn on.

Soon enough, a ship with a swan figurehead came into sight, hailing them from afar. "My ship!" the stranger cried, leaping up to the balustrade. "I'm afraid, my friends, that this is farewell."

"Aw, don't go! You're fun!"

"Yeah, Luffy's right! Don't go!" Chopper pouted, hiding behind the mast.

"You've done me a kindness by saving me, and while it may be time for me to leave…" Sticking his thumb up, the man turned his head, a broad smile on his face. Now that his back was to them, Quinn saw the word Pride emblazoned across his coat in sparkling black. "Do not be sad, my friends! Farewells are a part of any journey. But remember this! Friendship has nothing to do with how long you've known a person!" The ship, decked out in pink and with a remarkably plain looking crew now pulled up alongside them, each and every one of them wearing an expression of intense relief. "I shall always remember you!"

Leaping, legs splayed in a perfect sissonne, the man blew a kiss as he landed aboard his own ship, waving as though his life depended on it. "Goodbye! Farewell! Today will forever be the day that Mister Two met pirates of untold kindness!"

Everyone fell silent, bar the stranger's crew fussing over him. Slowly, their ship turned, and Quinn blinked, stunned, as it began to peel away.

"Oh for-" Quinn stood, lurching towards the railing as the distance grew between them. "Luffy. Permission to shoot?"

"No! No- he's… he's okay. I think? He was nice!" Putting his hands on his head, he squatted low, peering under the brim of his hat. A moment passed, and then another, and by that time had come and gone the ship had sailed too far from them for Quinn to comfortably hit it. She groaned aloud, flopping onto the deck in defeat.

"Seriously?"

"What! He was nice!"

"And now he has our faces," Nami added, sounding none too pleased.

"Not all of them."

"Huh?"

Zoro raised three fingers, ticking them down as he counted. "Quinn, Sanji, and our passenger."

Meanwhile, Vivi, who had been silent all this time, spoke up. "He… he has my father's face."

"What!?"

"How did he get close enough… how could he get close to a king? Baroque Works has infiltrated even the guard?" Running a hand down her face, Vivi all but collapsed as she sat down, cradling her head. "He has my father's face. How does he have his face?"

"I don't know, but I know we're gonna' kick Croco's ass!" Luffy declared, fist slamming into his open palm. "I can't wait!"

"You… you're going to fight him?"

Everyone turned to Vivi, astonished. "I just assumed we were going to fight," Quinn said, rubbing the back of her head. "Am I the only one?"

"Same here."

"Me too," Usopp added, although he didn't look happy about it.

"But you guys-"

"Enough," Zoro interrupted, brow furrowed. "This is fine. This is good, actually. We know one of our enemies powers, that means we can work around it."

"True. Actually, I think I know how we can work around that."

"Yeah, Witch?"

Quinn grinned at the crew. "Who here wants a tattoo?"

Immediately, Luffy's hand shot into the air. "Me! Me! I want a tattoo!"

"We are not getting tattoos! At least, we don't have to, right?" Usopp stood up, shaking his head.

"But I want one…"

"I don't want a tattoo," he continued. "But-"

"I've already figured it out. It's fine," Zoro said, putting his hand up. "No need for tattoos."

Sighing audibly, Usopp fell back to the deck, running a hand across his brow. Peeking at Vivi out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw a blush rising on the girl's face, her astonishment still written over every inch of her. "You alright?"

"I'm an idiot."

"Huh?"

"I'm an idiot. Everyone in Baroque Works has heard about Mister Two. The man with a million faces, who wears a pink coat and loves swans!"

Once again, everyone fell silent. As a whole, they stared at Vivi, their collective shock building up until it culminated in Nami's aghast words ringing out for all to hear. "Vivi, what the fuck."