[There's a distinctive grunt over the journals as a very familiar chef marches through the forest, sounding tired as hell, irritated that he probably missed his captain's birthday, and slightly loopy from those drugs. Ah sedatives.]
Damn bastards, I liked that pair of shoes.Hnnn. So
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[An odd look at how fast and straightforward that first bit was, which disappears at the second.] Che. Good. Most of what comes out of your mouth is annoying, anyway.
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Tch. At least I can make decent conversation.
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Is that supposed to be a jab?
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I know my insults can have more refined subtleties than yours, but even that much should be obvious.
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Fuckhead. If by subtle you mean it was weak, then yeah.
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You wanna start something, shithead?!
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Oi, what if you meet a girl weak to that kinda thing? Better cover that eyebrow up just to be safe.
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But Sanji slaps a hand over his eyebrow regardless, now twice as disgruntled]
Bastard! No lady is gonna fall for that!
Tch, and some swordsman you are, if you can't even handle one shitty eyebrow!! No wonder I wipe the floor with you!
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Though probably worse is the dawning realization that he can't move his hand.]
... It... ah. [shit, and any half-assed lie is suddenly fleeing his mind because he promised not to bullshit with Zoro.]
... Maybe.
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...Why?
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