#script borrowed from therealsamalkhatib

[brucenorris007]

One of the kidnappers rounded a glare onto Usopp.

"What the heck're you smiling about?"

The corner of Usopp's mouth twitched up a little further; he didn't say anything. He hadn't put up much resistance since they took the bag off his head and shoved him into a chair, or even test the bindings that kept his hands behind his back. Even if he did explain, they wouldn't believe him.

He remembered another life of staring down armies, warships and worse; he remembered burning the symbol of a rotting justice in full view of ten thousand witnesses.

How was he supposed to say that, in the face of a couple nervous kidnappers–armed or not–he couldn't help but smile?

"Do you understand what's happening right now?" The other one asked.

Usopp subtly shook his head, eyes drifting down to the bare concrete floor.

"If there's one thing I do understand," he said, slowly looking back up at his captors. "It's that my family are on their way right now."

Bozo one and two blinked at him. Glanced at one another; whether they were confused or something else, they didn't say anything for a moment.

"You think I'm crazy," Usopp said. "Wait till you meet them."

Somewhere in the city, two newly-painted yet beat-up sedans were tearing through the streets; both of them were packed with more bodies than anyone could feasibly consider safe, yet the fact was the furthest thing from the minds of the respective drivers.

Usopp, certain beyond certainty, relaxed his shoulders and let his head lilt slightly to one side; he glanced at bozo number two.

"I like your shirt." He said, still wearing a smile.