Cross sweeper: a person, sometimes elderly, disabled, or a child who would sweep a path ahead of people crossing dirty or snow-covered streets in exchange for some small change. Broxy: Meat, usually sheep, from an animal that had dropped dead of disease.

Constable Roronoa walked just in front of the noble, being careful to turn his head and keep an eye on him more often than not. The man was out of his element.

He was a sheep waiting to be fleeced and if that happened, the constable knew exactly who would bear the brunt of that blame.

And despite the fact this noble was going to spill a tale that would lead him to walking the graveyard beat again, Roronoa still had his pride as a copper.

But if he had to make a guess, one or two of the braver pickpockets had already bumped into the man and made off with whatever valuables he had been foolish enough to bring into the East End.

The constable slowed down and walked closer to the noble to make sure he left the East End with at least his trousers intact.

Then, much to his surprise, the nobleman spoke quietly to him, low enough for his ears only.

"That was a good act you did, Constable. And be ye kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you."

Constable Roronoa gave the noble a hard look.

The man sounded sincere. The way he spoke, it reminded him of a preacher who used to come out and try to convince the working girls to quit walking the streets and hand their fortunes over to God.

He promised them that the Lord would find them a way to feed their children, to help them lose their taste for the drink, to find a warm place to sleep at night.

Someone bashed his head in with a brick and stole his boots and stockings before getting chased off by Coby.

"There ain't a lot that's tenderhearted around here. And, if I can be blunt, kindness comes easy to them with a bellyful of food."

The noble made a face and Roronoa couldn't tell at first if he had crossed a line.

"There is truth to what you say. It is easy to be good when all your needs are met. Your honesty is to be commended. Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, as the good book says, but I can only imagine some may not like to hear your unvarnished opinions."

"Hah! I won't say a sheep's a horse, no matter who's riding it, Sir. And step lively. There's a dead rat to your side."

Roronoa suppressed a laugh as the noble made a cry of disgust and jumped over the bloated rodent. Some of the local children had started depositing dandelions and pebbles around the animal as a makeshift shrine.

The noble put a hand inside his coat pocket and then checked the other side, coming up empty. Sighing, he told Roronoa, "I see there is still humor here, though it is rather grim."

"We like our humor just like our tea, darker and more bitter than to most people's tastes." Roronoa took out his own black bandana from his pocket and handed it to the noble, who dabbed his brow with it.

"My thanks." He handed the bandana back. "I suppose it makes sense, what you're saying - "

The noble was interrupted by a high, feminine voice, "Sanji! Sanji! I was so worried!"

Both men looked over towards the direction of the young woman calling over.

She was waving one arm high in the air, her hand shaking vigorously back and forth. Next to her was the preacher, impossible to miss in his bright yellow coat. Helmeppo was there as well, looking like the cat that got into the cream.

Even if Roronoa was one to care for the attention of women, he didn't think the girl yelling for Sanji would have been to his tastes.

All the parts were correct for being beautiful. Her eyes were big and dark. Her breasts were large and full. And her light brown hair was thick and, from what he could tell, all her own.

But there was something in her face that told him to be cautious.

She looked concerned. No, thought Roronoa, she was acting concerned. As much as the young woman was staring straight ahead at Sanji, she was clearly aware of all those watching her and she was just as obviously enjoying being the center of attention.

He saw a smile slip out and then get quickly turned back into a pout as her eyes glanced around at the crowd following her every move.

"Please forgive me! A thousand and one apologies, my treasure. I didn't mean to worry your fair heart!"

Constable Roronoa turned his face to the side and spit. The nobleman Sanji actually had clasped both his hands over his own chest as he spoke to the girl.

One of the crossing sweepers, an older man with a bad leg, turned to the fellow next him and mimicked Sanji's actions, though in great exaggeration. He tilted his head higher and fluttered his eyelashes to his audience's great laughter.

Roronoa saw the noble's neck and face turn dark pink and the young woman's flare with fury.

Sanji coughed and cleared his throat. He walked over to stand next to the girl. "Pudding, my dear, Constable - was it Roronoa?"

"Yes, sir."

"Constable Roronoa is the officer who recovered your purse."

The constable saw Helmeppo swallow. He must have given the young woman a different story. Roronoa wasn't sure if Pudding was an overly sweet nickname or the girl's actual name.

"And the little thief?" she asked.

"Too fast," Roronoa answered before Sanji could.

Pudding frowned, "That's unfortunate."

"She must have been very desperate. She looked so frightened as we chased her," added Sanji.

The one called Perspero snorted loudly and then pulled out a snuffbox.

After having a pinch, he then said, "I thought you were a man of the good book, Lord Sanji. Heed Proverbs and Exodus. Thieves must pay back sevenfold what they stole. And if a thief cannot make restitution, then they shall themselves be sold to make the difference."

Constable Roronoa closed his eyes and swore silently to himself.

This Lord was dressed fancy, but definitely nothing like he imagined one would. He wondered how badly he had fucked up when talking to him and if the man might hold a grudge.

Perspero was, Roronoa knew, a snake peddler acting high and mighty. He didn't give a toss what he thought about him. "Slavery's illegal. Has been for a while in this country."

"The workhouse isn't," interjected Pudding. "If she's got legs to steal, she's got legs to work."

Roronoa saw Lord Sanji open his mouth slightly in surprise, but he quickly closed it and looked away from Pudding.

Pudding worked open the clasp on her purse. "Here, constable. Let me give you something for your trouble. There'll be more for you if you catch her."

She held up a shilling between her two fingers and smiled at him, as if he were a little boy and she was offering him a piece of candy. It took all of his willpower for Roronoa to keep his voice neutral.

"Just doing my job, miss. But there is something you could do. The food you served last week, it made a bunch of the people sick. If you could be more careful - "

"What?" Lord Sanji covered his open mouth and looked at the young woman.

"Not true! Not true!" Pudding stomped her foot. "That's, that's slander! Whoever says such a thing is a bald-faced liar! Perhaps their stomachs are more used to rotgut gin than to wholesome food - "

At this, people in the crowd started booing and calling out contradictions. Roronoa looked around for Coby, knowing Helmeppo would prove worse than useless if things got out of hand.

Perspero took a step forward towards the crowd, taunting them. "It was more like they were unused to the unfiltered word of God, their corrupted bodies too weak to handle his mighty judgment."

A man who would have been tall if he hadn't been stooped pushed his way out of the crowd, "That ain't it, you po'faced bastard. Don't think I don't recognize you either, but that's neither here nor there today. I know what you served and it was broxy, by my mother's eyes."

The crowd that had been going at a low hum before now sounded like a swarm of hornets. Roronoa saw some picking up whatever lay on the streets.

He looked at Lord Sanji, who himself was looking stunned by the turn of events and grabbed his arm.

"All of you need to get out of here. Now."

A clod of mud and who knows what else came flying, striking Perspero in the neck.

And with that, Sanji, Pudding, and Perspero rushed for a waiting carriage. Lord Sanji kept Pudding in front of himself, guarding her from any flying projectiles.

Constable Roronoa stood in between the crowd and them as best he could, but he was badly outnumbered.

And for the second time that day, Roronoa had his skin saved by one of the Strawhats.

"Arlong's warehouse is unlocked and lonely. Someone should go keep it company." The voice sounded like it came from a roof top, their marksman.

Like a flip of a coin, chance saved Lord Sanji and his friends from the fate of an angry mob.

In turn, the inhabitants of East End were spared the disproportionate wrath that would have later come from meting their own justice against the rich and privileged.

Constable Roronoa knew, as a so called keeper of the law, the rich and privileged lived by a different set of rules.

And there was no mercy for those who tried to make them pay their due.