What The Fuck Is Going On Here
Fuck, seeing the clown all quaking in his shoes and pissing himself was nearly as funny as seeing him drunk out of his mind and thinking he could dance. At least this way, he could actually be manipulated more, and that’s where the fun was coming in.Â
The flamingo man snickered at his groveling, leaning in and poking a long finger to Buggy’s forehead. “Nope, no hints. Put that little clown brain of yours to work and find them yourself. Consider this amusement your payment for drinking through my stock."  he straightened back up, turning and kicking the door open with one of his long legs. “I’ll tell you this though… at least it’s somewhere on the island, fufufufufu~!"
With no memory of the night before, Buggy was at a loss for what to do about his lost pantalones. The poke to his forehead was met with a very visible flinch, followed by his weak grin falling into a frown. "...I don't even know how I ended up in your booze cellar," he muttered, now wondering about the state of his crewmates. Had he run off on his own, or were they possibly stuck somewhere in this place as well?
"I-ISLAND?" he snapped suddenly, staring out the kicked-open door. "You can't expect me to run around an entire island pantsless with no flashy idea of where I am!" He looked up at the pink feathered fuck, plastering another weak grin to his lips. "Be reasonable. We're both Shichibukai, aren't we?"