#as if he'd let him chop onions but yknow worth a shot
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" oi- hands off. this is for later. " the space where fingers had been reaching is now empty as sanji is quick to kick back the crate of wines and other booze, placing himself between it and the swordsman. the kitchen holds a peace despite the commotion outside, shouts of excitement for the celebration to come, though muffled, still reach the kitchen. sanji knows it won't last. as soon as he starts cooking he'll get heads popping in and out so he's not surprised to see zoro appear at the scent of alcohol, only that he hadn't shown up sooner. he turns after giving zoro an eye and binds his hair back tighter before slipping his apron over his head, unlit cigarette bouncing between his lips as he speaks. " you can drink yourself stupid with everyone else, marimo. " / @coeurosa
ㅤㅤㅤFOR THE WAY SWORDSMAN FIT SEAMLESSLY in with the crew, and the way that he didn't - it's with perfected ease now, even years later, that zoro could find any and all location to nap. the rarest though - was the kitchen, especially when occupied. in the past, he'd established many rules when it came to sanji - and on that surprisingly long list he had a very clear, very concise : do not sleep in sanji's domain. the problem was, however, that the rules did not include clauses against 'stealing booze under the guise of napping' or 'fooling the cook into thinking he was at peace with sanji and a knife nearby.' in reality - a tiger was smart enough to know not when to intrude on another's den ( and the kitchen was, for their beloved cook, tantamount to a temple ); but when the smell of a fresh kill was delicious enough...
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤand sanji was hoarding the good stuff.
ㅤㅤㅤhe'd been snoozing peacefully near the crates - propped up against a sturdy wall with three swords humming at his side. only when sanji's back had been turned - had swordsman reached in said container, looping one indolent finger around a jug of finely spiced rum before mile long legs are kicking his prey across the room and zoro is scowling, single dark eye lit with displeasure while his hand hovers helplessly in the air. it falls, without a second thought, to the top of sanji's shoe, right beneath his ankle, and grips lightly. energy buzzes beneath his skin - the prowl of a hungry beast that makes itself known in the other's presence - but he quells it with an iron fist, and instead sniffs indignantly. yet zoro doesn't look away - he never has, not in the past and certainly not now, even when down to one piercing eye and a familiar wolfish smirk that would've spelled violence if he hadn't known sanji would abandon cooking for nothing short of a catastrophe.
ㅤㅤㅤoutside - he hears their captain's whooping cry, and the shatter of something breakable followed by a splash ( hopefully not one of the devil fruit users ), but he stays transfixed - as if his gaze is a net and sanji caught beneath the finely woven fibers. he was certainly capable of freeing himself though, that was part of his charm. usually - zoro would start with violence. usually, it would be threats and hissing and bared teeth and blood all for the sake of scratching that violent itch. today though - he tries something different. ❝ c'mon cook, don't be like that. ❞ it's not begging ( he does no such thing ), and it's certainly not pleading, but it's endearing enough to be something close, ❝ it takes me longer to get going than the rest of 'em. let me crack into one and, ❞ as if in after thought, his hand squeezes lightly, ❝ i'll chop your onions or something. ❞ besides, fine knife work always made for good training.
#coeurosa#* answered \ 🗡🗡🗡#* verse / 🗡🗡🗡 / i. main#* in character \ 🗡🗡🗡#as if he'd let him chop onions but yknow worth a shot#is it gay to beg for rum in the kitchen while holding your rivals foot
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