53 → Action/Voice
[The first thing Sanji wants and does upon returning is take a nap, locking himself in his room and dozing for a few hours. Four days of fighting and even he's feeling sore. Though sooner or later, guilt pulls him out of bed and insists that he attempt that pesky social thing. And on that note:
Yo. Naoki.
You free to talk? [His voice is slightly tired, amiable, and expectant. Because as far as he's concerned, it was gonna come to this sooner or later.]
[After the talk with Naoki, if he's available, the next stop is to House 43 to check on Richard and Isamu, though if he can't find them, he'll certainly go calling through the journals. Sanji will then put in some hours at Seventh Heaven (;A; his baby, oh how he missed you). Make the food, greet the customers, rinse and repeat. It's all so... jarringly normal, when yesterday he killed more men than he's happy mentioning. And that today is today, and not mentioning it might get him flambéed by some of his closer friends... ah, the trials of growing a year older.
Screw it. If no one brings it up, then it's fine. And he's happy enough to deem it unimportant. The only evidence to contradict that is his own, anyway; a photograph he's keeping in his pocket, which he pulls out whenever he finds the time. It somehow manages to bring a smile to his face.
... But since it is that day... miiiiight as well sneak into Good Spirits for a drink. Just one. ]
[ooc: Oh guess what? It's forward-dated. I bet none of you saw that coming. 8| /won't have time tomorrow]
Yo. Naoki.
You free to talk? [His voice is slightly tired, amiable, and expectant. Because as far as he's concerned, it was gonna come to this sooner or later.]
[After the talk with Naoki, if he's available, the next stop is to House 43 to check on Richard and Isamu, though if he can't find them, he'll certainly go calling through the journals. Sanji will then put in some hours at Seventh Heaven (;A; his baby, oh how he missed you). Make the food, greet the customers, rinse and repeat. It's all so... jarringly normal, when yesterday he killed more men than he's happy mentioning. And that today is today, and not mentioning it might get him flambéed by some of his closer friends... ah, the trials of growing a year older.
Screw it. If no one brings it up, then it's fine. And he's happy enough to deem it unimportant. The only evidence to contradict that is his own, anyway; a photograph he's keeping in his pocket, which he pulls out whenever he finds the time. It somehow manages to bring a smile to his face.
... But since it is that day... miiiiight as well sneak into Good Spirits for a drink. Just one. ]
[ooc: Oh guess what? It's forward-dated. I bet none of you saw that coming. 8| /won't have time tomorrow]