Politically Correct ch. 15
OH MAN OH BOY. I am terrible, I know. Merry Christmas~! Happy Holidays~! I hope you are all enjoying this winter and that you folks living on the U.S. east coast are safe and have not been terribly bothered by the storm (for those who are affected, that is). If it helps you any, I'd love to take some of that snow storm over here in California where it's bright and sunny and NOT AT ALL WINTER APPARENTLY.
Title: Politically Correct
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,913 (short, but still longer than some other chapters??)
Pairing: Zoro x Sanji
Summary: AU set in the San Francisco Bay Area Nami has decided that she's tired of Sanji constantly chasing after girls only to be taken advantage of & decides to take a more active role in Sanji committing to a Real Relationship.
Disclaimer: One Piece = Eiichiro Oda =/= me.
Notes: I'm too lazy to add a footnote so: that line in French? It means "it's not a problem, sir". Or something like that. I've only taken a single semester of French so this is pretty much the only time I intend to use more than two consecutive words of the language in this story.
[Previous Chapters]
jifjifjifjifjifjifjifjifjifjif
Robin had been glued to her phone even before Sanji and Zoro had arrived. Zoro had no doubts that the remaining female in their snug group of friends was working her connections. Franky was out and about, doing much of the same.
So far, nothing had come up.
Zoro stared up at the ceiling from his spot on one of Robin’s fancy rugs. He had no idea where Sanji had disappeared to after they had arrived at their friend’s home. He couldn’t even quite recall whether or not the blonde had gotten out of the car in the first place. Luffy was sitting behind an open laptop with a look on his face that suggested he was having problems with whatever it was he was trying to do. Zoro hadn’t yet seen Chopper or Usopp, but assumed that they too would arrive at some point.
Zoro pushed himself off the floor and slipped out into the small yard. Robin and Franky’s house sat atop one of the steep streets the city was known for, providing an open view over buildings and ocean. He sat at the edge of the yard, looking out. It doesn’t hold shit against the view from the cook’s apartment, but it’ll do. Eyes shut and breathing deep, Zoro cleared his mind. The issue with Sanji had kept him preoccupied for much of the day. But now it was, for the most part, settled. Zoro needed to refocus.
Minutes passed as he simply listened to the rhythmic laughing coming from a house nearby as it mixed with the distant chatter of happy holiday tourists. The chilled winter air prickled his skin and he could just catch the scent of salty ocean over the exhaust of passing cars.
The current problem was finding Vivi and Nami.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sanji popped open his best bottle of wine. It was a cabernet sauvignon from the renowned Napa Valley just a couple hours away. He had been saving it for a night of perfect and sensual romance filled with roses, passion, and a curvy woman. But Zoro had rendered a lifetime of romantic plans useless and all Sanji really wanted right now was a drink.
He had only been at Robin and Franky’s for a few minutes before he had begun to feel restless. Sanji had never been one for patience, which is why he had been slightly annoyed by the complete ease with which Zoro had laid down and taken a nap once they had arrived. Sanji had a feeling that Luffy’s unwavering confidence that everything would turn out for the best was a natural relaxant for much of Zoro’s nonchalance. And Luffy’s confidence wasn’t because of some idealistic belief in fate or destiny. It was a belief that everything would turn out for the best because the boy wouldn’t let it turn out any other way.
Luffy and Zoro may have the uncanny ability to end up exactly where they need to be despite heading in the opposite direction, but…. Sanji stared at the wine in his cup. Simply waiting for something to happen would forever be associated with the helplessness of being stranded. The helplessness of waiting for a ship to appear on the horizon.
Sanji sat at his desk, checking once again for any response to the messages that he too had sent out. Still nothing.
His gaze swept over the room, lingering on his kitchen. There was a coffee stained cup and a nearly untouched bowl of cereal sitting on the counter-- Zoro’s breakfast forgotten immediately after he had received the troubling call earlier that morning. Sanji’s eyebrow twitched. Followed by his finger. When he had first been learning how to cook, a younger Sanji that couldn’t care less about wasting food had often turned to mindless cooking as a form of comfort. After he had developed his “Do Not Waste” mantra, Sanji had found comfort in the monotony of dishwashing. And then cleaning in general. Logically, he knew that there wasn’t much he could do with his current state of no information, but the thought of doing anything else, even cleaning, brought on a bout of guilt. As though he weren’t trying hard enough.
Sanji spun himself in his chair towards his desk, knocking over his paper bin in the process. He glared down at the sheets of paper and envelopes as he accepted the fact that cleaning would be an immediate part of his future. “I don’t even know why I have a fucking recycling bin just for paper. I’m a fucking chef. I don’t have enough paper in this apartment to even justify having a damn paper bin.” Sanji voiced his lie out loud. He knew exactly where the bin had come from: another ex.
He sat himself on his floor, cross-legged, and reminisced about this particular lady-friend as he set about picking up the scattered mess. She had been an interior designer and Sanji had given her free reign of his house. Except, of course, the kitchen. There hadn’t been much for her to do since much of Sanji’s apartment had come pre-professionally-decorated. It was one of the reasons he had chosen this particular complex. Regardless, his interior designer ex-tall with dark mocha skin, wavy black hair, and legs Sanji had spent much of his life dreaming of-had left an assortment of décor that he had hadn’t touched. Like a fucking recycling bin that’s just for paper.
Sanji tried to remember what sex with her had been like. He knew that it had been great. But the seemingly endless mess (with letters and envelopes dating up to three years back) and a wordless thought itching at the back of his mind put a damper on his recollections. As images of hard muscle and scarred torso began to leak between the cracks of Sanji’s mind, everything came to a full stop.
For an eternity of a second Sanji did nothing but stare at a stiff envelope that had been hidden under an old newspaper. On the front, in elegant scripted lettering, it was addressed to “The Prince”.
Benefits of human trade.
Legalizing slavery.
Suddenly, “charity” auction had a whole new meaning. Sanji tore the envelope open with little care for the obviously expensive invitation. His mind rapidly considered the implication of his suspicions were they right while simultaneously trying to convince himself that he was simply stretching for something relevant. Regardless of how absurd.
The card was sparse. The same elegant script announced that {You are hereby cordially invited to attend the 50th anniversary of our annual charity auction.} Accompanied only by a simple ten-digit RSVP number.
“Who in the fucking world gives out an invitation without including a date or location?” Sanji rifled through the mess that had just recently come into existence on his desk, looking for his phone. Unless of course it’s something so craptastic and obscene. Like a human-fucking-auction. He straightened up, triumphant as he found it under a pack of cigarettes.
Sanji’s lips gripped the stick of his favored smoke as he dialed the ten-digit number on the card. His fingers held his phone steady against his ear as he listened to the muffled ringing on the other line. Every bit of Sanji relaxed as clear feminine tones chimed out a rehearsed: [ You’ve reached the RSVP line for our annual charity auction. Are you calling to confirm or reject? ]
“Confirm.”
[ Thank you, sir. We’ll send a car before the event. ]
“Just a minute, Miss. I couldn’t possibly let someone with as lovely a voice as yours to hang-up without first getting your name.” Sanji’s voice had lowered with an edge of flirtation. “And without giving my own name, at the least.”
[ Have a good day, sir. ]
“I think it’d be a little difficult to send a car to come and get me and to even log my RSVP without knowing my name and information. I’d also hate to find out that I had missed my ride because I didn’t know when it was coming.” Sanji tapped the end of his cigarette on his ash tray, watching the buildup of ash collapse. There was no hesitation before she replied.
[ I assure you, ce n’est pas un problème, Monsieur. ]
Sanji grinned despite the familiar click signaling the end of the call. Women speaking French had always been an especially effective turn on for him. It wasn’t even French women, but the romance of the language itself.
His pulled out his favorite wine glass, no longer unhappy with the lack of occasion for cracking open his long-saved bottle. All the anxiety, impatience, and restlessness he had felt just minutes ago were all gone. Sanji settled into the much more familiar territory of confidence. Despite the fact that he still didn’t have any solid reason to believe that the auction was in any way connected to Vivi and Nami’s disappearance, he was convinced it was. Even if those idiots that handed me the invitation actually believed I was some sort of obscure French royalty at the time, there’s no way they could still possibly believe that.
The phone call hadn’t been overtly informative, and, althoug the fact that the woman had obviously known who he was had been a slight surprise, what Sanji found the most interesting was that she had known who he was despite the fact that he had spoken in English. And even more so that she had been the one to initiate that use of English. It meant that either she had been sloppy, or whoever it was that was behind this whole “charity auction” knew Sanji’s identity beyond that of “The Prince”.
And none of this necessarily has anything to do with the missing girls, but if they know who I am and, as that no doubt darling lady implied, also know where I live, then there’s a good chance they know that I’m friends with Vivi. And with the way the men had acted when Sanji had introduced himself as a prince, their obsession with the chance of him being royalty, Sanji didn’t think it too farfetched to believe that perhaps they had uncovered the truth of his status as a mere American citizen, only to realize they had a true princess within their sight.
Sanji put down his empty wine glass and headed for the shower. As much as the thought that Vivi (and somehow Nami as well) being taken was collateral damage from Sanji’s blatant lie was infuriating, there was little he could do until the car came to pick him up. He no longer felt that need to rush.
He was at ease. It twinged on his nerves a bit, knowing that this was probably how Luffy and Zoro felt nearly all the time. But Sanji could understand. Now that he had a lead he was confident in, there was no reason to panic. Sanji was a fighter. He knew perfectly well how much nerves could sabotage even the most disciplined of fighters.
That marimo bastard probably doesn’t even have nerves. Sanji knew he would never admit it to the man himself, but Zoro’s training discipline was something he admired. Sanji was beginning to realize that a lot of Zoro’s characteristics and habits were the object of his secret admiration.
To a degree.
Sanji stepped under the hot spray of his luxurious shower and let the heat wash over him, hoping the running water would take his irritation down the drain with it. Because even Sanji couldn’t deny that thoughts of the green-haired swordsman were as stubborn, intrusive, irritating, and irresistible as the man himself.
He was certain that nothing would distract him from finding his friends alive and well, but every time he fantasized about the celebration that would follow the retrieval of their friends, he found that it was much less about how grateful Nami and Vivi would be towards their darling savior and all the different ways he’d like to be thanked and instead much more about Zoro.
He hated that, somehow, the desire to pursue things with the marimo was not an insignificant source of motivation for finding the girls.
Sanji shut off the shower and toweled off, standing in front of his closet. He needed to refocus.
He also needed to figure out which suit would be the least obstructive in his foreseeable ass-kicking future.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I wonder if I should just start looking.
Zoro had managed to make it onto the roof and now had an even better view of the city’s landscape. He had come to realize just how true what Sanji had told Smoker when they had been confronted earlier that day: There was an inordinate amount of people who fit Sanji’s general description. In the neighborhood surrounding Robin and Franky’s place alone he had seen a number of suited-up blonde-haired males fitting Sanji’s body type. He hadn’t even tried to check if the color of their eyes matched as well because of his distant perch. Nevertheless, he didn’t doubt that many fit Kohza’s physical description spot on. The only issue now was which of the many could fight with a similar style as Sanji’s.
And Zoro was beginning to think that attacking every Sanji-looking guy to determine their fighting ability would be a more efficient use of time.
Zoro had just come to the decision that simply walking down the street taking swings at random men wasn’t the worst way to spend his day when his attention was drawn back to the house below him and the sounds of a commotion within.
“Zoro.” The front door was pushed open and Robin’s deceptively loud voice drifted up towards him.
“Look up.” Zoro called back, choosing not to move until given a reason.
Robin turned to look up at him as Luffy made his way to her side, looking slightly triumphant. “I found Nami’s laptop!” The younger boy grinned proudly in his direction.
Zoro moved towards the edge of the roof and dropped himself onto the lower roof level before finally dropping to the grass below. “Where’d you find it? The bitch was kind of anal about her gadgets.”
“I found it in the house.” Luffy stated matter-of-factly.
Zoro stared at him. “Are you talking about the laptop you’ve been using since I got here?”
< br /> Robin gave a soft amused smile. “It seems that Luffy has spent the better part of the day trying to get into Nami’s laptop for one reason or another. Usopp recognized the hardware and is currently trying to see if he can find a way in. Unfortunately, as you can imagine because of the nature of her job, she has a tendency to keep her gadgets quite securely locked.”
Zoro glanced at the window and could see the glow of the screen reflected on Usopp’s face as he hunched over the keyboard. It seemed as though Chopper had yet to arrive. It wasn’t the only absence he was aware of. “Hey, have any of you seen that damn cook as of late?”
Robin’s eyebrow quirked up. “You didn’t notice him leave almost immediately after you arrived?”
Zoro rolled his eyes. “Who the hell has the time to keep an eye on that idiot?”
Before Robin could reply with a comment about how much time Zoro had been keeping his eyes on Sanji in the past couple of weeks, the front door swung open once again as Usopp nudged his way through, holding the laptop. “I have no idea how to crack this thing so I’m going to take it over to Franky. Is he still over at the docks?”
Their raven-haired friend nodded.
Zoro shifted the swords on his hips. “I’ll come with you. I wouldn’t put it past that conniving woman to do something that pissed someone off so much that they would be willing to take her.”
Robin appeared with her purse. Zoro hadn’t even seen her go back into the house. “Well, our dear Nami does have a habit of… taking advantage of a person’s financial weaknesses. Hopefully there will be a clue on her hard drive.” There was a twinkle in Robin’s eye. In their years of friendship, Zoro had come to learn just how much Robin loved solving mysteries. He assumed it had to do with her love for excavating ruins. He didn’t think he’d ever understand it.
“Well,” Zoro looked at the street,, “That eye brow freak left me without a car so I hope someone else was planning on driving.”
Usopp let out a loud snort. “It’s okay man, I don’t think I’ll live to see the day when you’re our first choice driver.”
Even Robin let out a little chuckle. “I find it curious that you make such comments despite Sanji’s insistence on calling you out every single time. Though perhaps “directionally-challenged-idiot” is just another term of endearment for the two of you?”
“Goddammit. Sometimes you guys are just as bad as he is.” But he added, as an afterthought, “Though, fuck yeah, our arguments are just foreplay. So next time you see that blonde dumb-ass picking a fight with me, know that it’s just because he wants some.” Zoro turned and walked towards the garage, where Luffy had been sitting, perched on Robin’s car.
Teasing Sanji was so much more effective, and thus satisfying, when the girls were there to watch. He wanted to find Nami and Vivi as soon as possible.
[ Chapter 16 ]
Title: Politically Correct
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,913 (short, but still longer than some other chapters??)
Pairing: Zoro x Sanji
Summary: AU set in the San Francisco Bay Area Nami has decided that she's tired of Sanji constantly chasing after girls only to be taken advantage of & decides to take a more active role in Sanji committing to a Real Relationship.
Disclaimer: One Piece = Eiichiro Oda =/= me.
Notes: I'm too lazy to add a footnote so: that line in French? It means "it's not a problem, sir". Or something like that. I've only taken a single semester of French so this is pretty much the only time I intend to use more than two consecutive words of the language in this story.
[Previous Chapters]
jifjifjifjifjifjifjifjifjifjif
Robin had been glued to her phone even before Sanji and Zoro had arrived. Zoro had no doubts that the remaining female in their snug group of friends was working her connections. Franky was out and about, doing much of the same.
So far, nothing had come up.
Zoro stared up at the ceiling from his spot on one of Robin’s fancy rugs. He had no idea where Sanji had disappeared to after they had arrived at their friend’s home. He couldn’t even quite recall whether or not the blonde had gotten out of the car in the first place. Luffy was sitting behind an open laptop with a look on his face that suggested he was having problems with whatever it was he was trying to do. Zoro hadn’t yet seen Chopper or Usopp, but assumed that they too would arrive at some point.
Zoro pushed himself off the floor and slipped out into the small yard. Robin and Franky’s house sat atop one of the steep streets the city was known for, providing an open view over buildings and ocean. He sat at the edge of the yard, looking out. It doesn’t hold shit against the view from the cook’s apartment, but it’ll do. Eyes shut and breathing deep, Zoro cleared his mind. The issue with Sanji had kept him preoccupied for much of the day. But now it was, for the most part, settled. Zoro needed to refocus.
Minutes passed as he simply listened to the rhythmic laughing coming from a house nearby as it mixed with the distant chatter of happy holiday tourists. The chilled winter air prickled his skin and he could just catch the scent of salty ocean over the exhaust of passing cars.
The current problem was finding Vivi and Nami.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sanji popped open his best bottle of wine. It was a cabernet sauvignon from the renowned Napa Valley just a couple hours away. He had been saving it for a night of perfect and sensual romance filled with roses, passion, and a curvy woman. But Zoro had rendered a lifetime of romantic plans useless and all Sanji really wanted right now was a drink.
He had only been at Robin and Franky’s for a few minutes before he had begun to feel restless. Sanji had never been one for patience, which is why he had been slightly annoyed by the complete ease with which Zoro had laid down and taken a nap once they had arrived. Sanji had a feeling that Luffy’s unwavering confidence that everything would turn out for the best was a natural relaxant for much of Zoro’s nonchalance. And Luffy’s confidence wasn’t because of some idealistic belief in fate or destiny. It was a belief that everything would turn out for the best because the boy wouldn’t let it turn out any other way.
Luffy and Zoro may have the uncanny ability to end up exactly where they need to be despite heading in the opposite direction, but…. Sanji stared at the wine in his cup. Simply waiting for something to happen would forever be associated with the helplessness of being stranded. The helplessness of waiting for a ship to appear on the horizon.
Sanji sat at his desk, checking once again for any response to the messages that he too had sent out. Still nothing.
His gaze swept over the room, lingering on his kitchen. There was a coffee stained cup and a nearly untouched bowl of cereal sitting on the counter-- Zoro’s breakfast forgotten immediately after he had received the troubling call earlier that morning. Sanji’s eyebrow twitched. Followed by his finger. When he had first been learning how to cook, a younger Sanji that couldn’t care less about wasting food had often turned to mindless cooking as a form of comfort. After he had developed his “Do Not Waste” mantra, Sanji had found comfort in the monotony of dishwashing. And then cleaning in general. Logically, he knew that there wasn’t much he could do with his current state of no information, but the thought of doing anything else, even cleaning, brought on a bout of guilt. As though he weren’t trying hard enough.
Sanji spun himself in his chair towards his desk, knocking over his paper bin in the process. He glared down at the sheets of paper and envelopes as he accepted the fact that cleaning would be an immediate part of his future. “I don’t even know why I have a fucking recycling bin just for paper. I’m a fucking chef. I don’t have enough paper in this apartment to even justify having a damn paper bin.” Sanji voiced his lie out loud. He knew exactly where the bin had come from: another ex.
He sat himself on his floor, cross-legged, and reminisced about this particular lady-friend as he set about picking up the scattered mess. She had been an interior designer and Sanji had given her free reign of his house. Except, of course, the kitchen. There hadn’t been much for her to do since much of Sanji’s apartment had come pre-professionally-decorated. It was one of the reasons he had chosen this particular complex. Regardless, his interior designer ex-tall with dark mocha skin, wavy black hair, and legs Sanji had spent much of his life dreaming of-had left an assortment of décor that he had hadn’t touched. Like a fucking recycling bin that’s just for paper.
Sanji tried to remember what sex with her had been like. He knew that it had been great. But the seemingly endless mess (with letters and envelopes dating up to three years back) and a wordless thought itching at the back of his mind put a damper on his recollections. As images of hard muscle and scarred torso began to leak between the cracks of Sanji’s mind, everything came to a full stop.
For an eternity of a second Sanji did nothing but stare at a stiff envelope that had been hidden under an old newspaper. On the front, in elegant scripted lettering, it was addressed to “The Prince”.
Benefits of human trade.
Legalizing slavery.
Suddenly, “charity” auction had a whole new meaning. Sanji tore the envelope open with little care for the obviously expensive invitation. His mind rapidly considered the implication of his suspicions were they right while simultaneously trying to convince himself that he was simply stretching for something relevant. Regardless of how absurd.
The card was sparse. The same elegant script announced that {You are hereby cordially invited to attend the 50th anniversary of our annual charity auction.} Accompanied only by a simple ten-digit RSVP number.
“Who in the fucking world gives out an invitation without including a date or location?” Sanji rifled through the mess that had just recently come into existence on his desk, looking for his phone. Unless of course it’s something so craptastic and obscene. Like a human-fucking-auction. He straightened up, triumphant as he found it under a pack of cigarettes.
Sanji’s lips gripped the stick of his favored smoke as he dialed the ten-digit number on the card. His fingers held his phone steady against his ear as he listened to the muffled ringing on the other line. Every bit of Sanji relaxed as clear feminine tones chimed out a rehearsed: [ You’ve reached the RSVP line for our annual charity auction. Are you calling to confirm or reject? ]
“Confirm.”
[ Thank you, sir. We’ll send a car before the event. ]
“Just a minute, Miss. I couldn’t possibly let someone with as lovely a voice as yours to hang-up without first getting your name.” Sanji’s voice had lowered with an edge of flirtation. “And without giving my own name, at the least.”
[ Have a good day, sir. ]
“I think it’d be a little difficult to send a car to come and get me and to even log my RSVP without knowing my name and information. I’d also hate to find out that I had missed my ride because I didn’t know when it was coming.” Sanji tapped the end of his cigarette on his ash tray, watching the buildup of ash collapse. There was no hesitation before she replied.
[ I assure you, ce n’est pas un problème, Monsieur. ]
Sanji grinned despite the familiar click signaling the end of the call. Women speaking French had always been an especially effective turn on for him. It wasn’t even French women, but the romance of the language itself.
His pulled out his favorite wine glass, no longer unhappy with the lack of occasion for cracking open his long-saved bottle. All the anxiety, impatience, and restlessness he had felt just minutes ago were all gone. Sanji settled into the much more familiar territory of confidence. Despite the fact that he still didn’t have any solid reason to believe that the auction was in any way connected to Vivi and Nami’s disappearance, he was convinced it was. Even if those idiots that handed me the invitation actually believed I was some sort of obscure French royalty at the time, there’s no way they could still possibly believe that.
The phone call hadn’t been overtly informative, and, althoug the fact that the woman had obviously known who he was had been a slight surprise, what Sanji found the most interesting was that she had known who he was despite the fact that he had spoken in English. And even more so that she had been the one to initiate that use of English. It meant that either she had been sloppy, or whoever it was that was behind this whole “charity auction” knew Sanji’s identity beyond that of “The Prince”.
And none of this necessarily has anything to do with the missing girls, but if they know who I am and, as that no doubt darling lady implied, also know where I live, then there’s a good chance they know that I’m friends with Vivi. And with the way the men had acted when Sanji had introduced himself as a prince, their obsession with the chance of him being royalty, Sanji didn’t think it too farfetched to believe that perhaps they had uncovered the truth of his status as a mere American citizen, only to realize they had a true princess within their sight.
Sanji put down his empty wine glass and headed for the shower. As much as the thought that Vivi (and somehow Nami as well) being taken was collateral damage from Sanji’s blatant lie was infuriating, there was little he could do until the car came to pick him up. He no longer felt that need to rush.
He was at ease. It twinged on his nerves a bit, knowing that this was probably how Luffy and Zoro felt nearly all the time. But Sanji could understand. Now that he had a lead he was confident in, there was no reason to panic. Sanji was a fighter. He knew perfectly well how much nerves could sabotage even the most disciplined of fighters.
That marimo bastard probably doesn’t even have nerves. Sanji knew he would never admit it to the man himself, but Zoro’s training discipline was something he admired. Sanji was beginning to realize that a lot of Zoro’s characteristics and habits were the object of his secret admiration.
To a degree.
Sanji stepped under the hot spray of his luxurious shower and let the heat wash over him, hoping the running water would take his irritation down the drain with it. Because even Sanji couldn’t deny that thoughts of the green-haired swordsman were as stubborn, intrusive, irritating, and irresistible as the man himself.
He was certain that nothing would distract him from finding his friends alive and well, but every time he fantasized about the celebration that would follow the retrieval of their friends, he found that it was much less about how grateful Nami and Vivi would be towards their darling savior and all the different ways he’d like to be thanked and instead much more about Zoro.
He hated that, somehow, the desire to pursue things with the marimo was not an insignificant source of motivation for finding the girls.
Sanji shut off the shower and toweled off, standing in front of his closet. He needed to refocus.
He also needed to figure out which suit would be the least obstructive in his foreseeable ass-kicking future.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I wonder if I should just start looking.
Zoro had managed to make it onto the roof and now had an even better view of the city’s landscape. He had come to realize just how true what Sanji had told Smoker when they had been confronted earlier that day: There was an inordinate amount of people who fit Sanji’s general description. In the neighborhood surrounding Robin and Franky’s place alone he had seen a number of suited-up blonde-haired males fitting Sanji’s body type. He hadn’t even tried to check if the color of their eyes matched as well because of his distant perch. Nevertheless, he didn’t doubt that many fit Kohza’s physical description spot on. The only issue now was which of the many could fight with a similar style as Sanji’s.
And Zoro was beginning to think that attacking every Sanji-looking guy to determine their fighting ability would be a more efficient use of time.
Zoro had just come to the decision that simply walking down the street taking swings at random men wasn’t the worst way to spend his day when his attention was drawn back to the house below him and the sounds of a commotion within.
“Zoro.” The front door was pushed open and Robin’s deceptively loud voice drifted up towards him.
“Look up.” Zoro called back, choosing not to move until given a reason.
Robin turned to look up at him as Luffy made his way to her side, looking slightly triumphant. “I found Nami’s laptop!” The younger boy grinned proudly in his direction.
Zoro moved towards the edge of the roof and dropped himself onto the lower roof level before finally dropping to the grass below. “Where’d you find it? The bitch was kind of anal about her gadgets.”
“I found it in the house.” Luffy stated matter-of-factly.
Zoro stared at him. “Are you talking about the laptop you’ve been using since I got here?”
< br /> Robin gave a soft amused smile. “It seems that Luffy has spent the better part of the day trying to get into Nami’s laptop for one reason or another. Usopp recognized the hardware and is currently trying to see if he can find a way in. Unfortunately, as you can imagine because of the nature of her job, she has a tendency to keep her gadgets quite securely locked.”
Zoro glanced at the window and could see the glow of the screen reflected on Usopp’s face as he hunched over the keyboard. It seemed as though Chopper had yet to arrive. It wasn’t the only absence he was aware of. “Hey, have any of you seen that damn cook as of late?”
Robin’s eyebrow quirked up. “You didn’t notice him leave almost immediately after you arrived?”
Zoro rolled his eyes. “Who the hell has the time to keep an eye on that idiot?”
Before Robin could reply with a comment about how much time Zoro had been keeping his eyes on Sanji in the past couple of weeks, the front door swung open once again as Usopp nudged his way through, holding the laptop. “I have no idea how to crack this thing so I’m going to take it over to Franky. Is he still over at the docks?”
Their raven-haired friend nodded.
Zoro shifted the swords on his hips. “I’ll come with you. I wouldn’t put it past that conniving woman to do something that pissed someone off so much that they would be willing to take her.”
Robin appeared with her purse. Zoro hadn’t even seen her go back into the house. “Well, our dear Nami does have a habit of… taking advantage of a person’s financial weaknesses. Hopefully there will be a clue on her hard drive.” There was a twinkle in Robin’s eye. In their years of friendship, Zoro had come to learn just how much Robin loved solving mysteries. He assumed it had to do with her love for excavating ruins. He didn’t think he’d ever understand it.
“Well,” Zoro looked at the street,, “That eye brow freak left me without a car so I hope someone else was planning on driving.”
Usopp let out a loud snort. “It’s okay man, I don’t think I’ll live to see the day when you’re our first choice driver.”
Even Robin let out a little chuckle. “I find it curious that you make such comments despite Sanji’s insistence on calling you out every single time. Though perhaps “directionally-challenged-idiot” is just another term of endearment for the two of you?”
“Goddammit. Sometimes you guys are just as bad as he is.” But he added, as an afterthought, “Though, fuck yeah, our arguments are just foreplay. So next time you see that blonde dumb-ass picking a fight with me, know that it’s just because he wants some.” Zoro turned and walked towards the garage, where Luffy had been sitting, perched on Robin’s car.
Teasing Sanji was so much more effective, and thus satisfying, when the girls were there to watch. He wanted to find Nami and Vivi as soon as possible.
[ Chapter 16 ]