Zomanda -- The Applications of Blunt Force
“Zoroooo,” Mandee whined as he adjusted her on his back. “You have fucking awesome shoulders, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered absently, looking up and down the street. Where was Chopper when you needed him?
“And your earrings!” she batted at them. “Dangly and swisssshhhh!”
Even that twisted Surgeon of Death would do. Mandee was out of it. Very out of it, and it was, in a round-about, indirect way, maybe sort of his fault slightly, if you looked at it from a certain angle. It was still enough to make him feel guilty.
He had already massacred the guy who had hit her over the head hard enough to make her yell
“Shit raping weasel-licker!” and his friends. Honestly, the jerks didn’t have to do that just because she was there. Zoro had been their opponent; hurting Mandee was pointless and cruel.
“Where are my glasses?” Mandee asked, squinting.
“You’re wearing them,” Zoro pointed out.
“Your mom’s wearing them.”
“I need to get you to Chopper.”
“You need to get your mom to Chopper.” She wiggled in place. “Put me dooooowwn!”
Mandee buried her face into his shoulder. He could feel her pouting. “I’m… I’ma touch your bum.”
“You can’t reach it from there, idiot,” said Zoro. He noticed a speck of blue; the sea? He headed towards it.
He wasn’t expecting Mandee to suddenly shift out of place. He almost thought she was falling, but no, she was apparently trying to reach his bum. The thought made his eyebrow twitch. “Stop that!”
“You’re gonna hurt yourself worse!”
Zoro grumbled under his breath. In the blink of an eye, he switched her around to carry her bridal-style, making her glare at him through her haze. “Oi… You owe me a bum touch.”
“I do not owe you a bum touch.”
“You owe me a bum touch,” Mandee repeated.
He sighed and relented. “I owe you a bum touch.”
