༝ 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂
𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆, 𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎.
[ … ] But not a single one slips past his lips, tugged deep into a low, pronounced frown around the crushed end of his bitten through cigarette’s filter, the only true grace that Sanji has in that moment as he works to help readjust the bindings cleanly wrapped around the shitty Swordsman’s torso, is that his hands remain ever steady, unwavering as they loosen the bandages a comfortable yet secure amount before moving to redress them back into place. Less tight, enough Zoro could breath without straining his already battered form during his recovery.
One of the many other skills learned after working so long in such a heated environment along the Baratie – he’d learned young how to keep a level head in hot water, the ability to keep calm when everything around teetered closer, closer to licking flames beneath threatening to burn it all down. One too many times now had he watched the idiot throw himself into danger, headfirst without little other care outside of bull-headedly wearing the self-donned mantle of their crew’s protector to consider whether a fight was better to tackle on his own or wait for help to back it up.
Martyr, fool, someone who was strong but still carried doubt far stronger when he’d wavered or met an intimidating match. Fear, something that only served to fuel the other man to strive to be better in good &&. bad ways even now.
While annoyance wove itself tightly through the Cook’s limbs, tension visibly bled from the harsh strain in his jaw where it ticks just so, his eyes always were too honest to lie. Concern, tender fear of his own flickers like lightning in the night as he glares at the pink-tinged bandages firmly wrapped in place as he secures them down with the accompanying clip. Zoro’s food is just off to the side, close enough to retrieve with ease but he makes no move, not yet, uttering an attempted hiss the green-haired Pirate’s way with a twitch of his brow as he peers into his unscarred eye directly.
Despite the roughness of his words, the surface-level callousness that paraded around so loudly in its donned irritation, it’s all fake, shield-like in how it shelters away the worry threatening to peek. He damn near gave him a heart attack, all of them with how he’d barely pulled through that last battle. All he receives from the stubborn Swordsman as he dismisses Sanji, is a low grunt &&. a sharp turn of his face, gaze directing off to a nearby corner. Before he can express annoyance with the attitude, he catches the subtle way Zoro’s brows crease, not quite a pained grimace taking form across tensed features, but something notably, distinctly bothered &&. uneasy.
It’s enough to disarm him, a steady stream of smoke blown through his nose as he turns his own face away out of some attempted apology – an attempt to be civil &&. not make @viiteaz feel any worse with his flavoured tobacco blowing into his face so close. His hand lingers on a shoulder, a light squeeze given as Zoro quietly rumbles out a reassurance of his own. Few words, bluntly spoken, but in the Swordsman’s own way, it worked wonders, easing something clenched tight in his chest to relax just enough when he next breathes, it’s in a lighter chuckle, one that comes far easier finally since they’d all boarded the Sunny again.
Shaking his head, removing his hand to card it through loose blonde locks, he glances over to the plate of food, moving it closer with a steady grip just off to Zoro’s left hand side where he sits. His favorite, as a sort of… celebratory way to express thanks for everything as well as a congratulations on surviving. Lips crook high, an easy curve that’s promptly hidden with a swift duck of his head as he stands to his feet, sighing before he gently places a small cup next to an offered bottle of sake.
` ❝ Better not. At this rate… You’ll end up more scar than skin. ❞
It’s not the kindest way to take his leave, but he has enough comfort knowing little really needed to be said between the odd pair. Whether it was caught or not to understand the relief that twines between his words. Waving a hand, he leaves the other to rest with the food &&. drink, tinging the air with the lingering scent of his black cherry tobacco.
` ＊ 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑼𝑬𝑫 . ᨒ↟𐂂
