Not just honks

⋆ “you should’ve told me you were afraid of storms.”

⋆ “i can’t sleep either through it either. wanna talk?”

⋆ “calm down, i’m not leaving- i’m just going to grab another blanket.”

⋆ “seriously? you’ve lived here for how many years, and you still can’t find your way around without the lights on?”

⋆ “god, you’re freezing! come here, let me warm you up.”

⋆ “please forget every time i’ve ever been irate with you over your candle collection.”

⋆ “i don’t care if it’s red weather warning outside, if you try and warm your icy little feet on me one more time i’m kicking you out.”

⋆ "don't worry, i won't tell anyone that my big bad partner/roomate/xyz is afraid of a little thunder."

⋆ "shit, is the power out?"

⋆ "was that lightning?! that was definitely lightning, right?"

⋆ "come here, i'll keep you safe. swear."

⋆ "god, please don't choose now to be the time you tell me you're afraid of the dark."

“ If you did a little work everyday instead of letting it pile up, ga ne. You wouldn’t be in this situation, Buuggy. ” Mr 3 speaks in a scolding manner, almost in a whisper while shaking his head. This time he had decided! He won’t help him at all! To worsen the situation, he was carrying yet another pile of late errants that were placed just by the end of the table.  Simply watching the clown’s rambling as he keeps his natural scowl. Pirates were truly not made to deal with this type of paperwork. Although in his own view they were pretty easy tasks…but even easy tasks were difficult when you were hurt, aren't they…. “ We don’t really have another option, do we? After the giants left, they’re our only defense against the marines— ” Buggy’s scream didn’t surprise Galdino at all, but did make him go a step behind while seeing the papers fly everywhere. By now, the artist was already pretty much used to their flashy behavior. It was just hard to feel pity when those were the consequences of their own choices…. but they could go a little lighter on these bruises couldn’t they…. 

It was a drastic change from just a few months ago, but perhaps that was a good opportunity to teach that pirate to be a little more responsible with tasks. Mr 3’s frown turned more apparent as he went to pick up a few lost papers across the room. Staying means he would end up helping and he was adamant on NO PITY this time.

“ ............Hm. Is that so.” 

But the artist’s actions go the opposite of his mind, as the sound of a chair being dragged across the room resonated, one that placed on the other side of the table. He tapped his glasses in, tying papers up before giving them a quick review as he started to stamp them.

There was no other way around it, no tricks up his sleeve anymore since as of now the other two knew them well enough, he couldn't just scurry away frim responsibilities like that. For now. Right. Riiiight. It was all a matter of letting some more time pass, and after that he would be able to pull the same play again right under their noses, bam, perfect.

Except. It would lead him back to this same instance. Bump in the head and all.

As his hands hurried around picking up the papers, as well as still acknowledging the new ones the other man brought in, Buggy tried to think of a way to speed ​​up the progress, it was ok if he at keast sinoly tried to messily get it done, right? What mattered was that it was doNE, right?!

The sound of the chair dragging closer made his now floating head turn towards the artist, it wasn't that he hasn't listened to him the entire time, it was that his brain was simply trying to move past this responsibility slop, then again, it seemed like he was staying, like the kast time, and the last and the last........ truly a welcomed companionship, and definitely something that gave him a little boost of energy. He couldn't just acT like this all the time!! Not in front of a subordinate! SHAME on himself!!!

"She did?!" That also added to the whole ordeal, yeah, his energies were definitely back. Oh, these papers had nO CHANCE against him now. "We are annihilating these bastards before they even DArE take those donuts from us, I assure you, my friend!" With his limbs fully reattached, the clown hurried up continue on his job, clearly appreciating Galdino's company anD help as he moved papers between his hands and across the desk, pen in hand.

"I hate to admit it, but it's true that we need those two on our side now" he groaned then. "They are just such sticks in the mud, though!! No humour, no flexibility, just dry-! But I didn't tell you this, yeah? They don't know I said any of this" he quickly added there at the end. "Haaaaahhh, being at the top if the world is sooooo demanding---" with an exaggerated sigh he leaned back on his chair, once again forgetting about the work at hand as he stopped.

"..... right, you worked for Crocodile, didn't you? Did he also throw mountains of papers at you as well? God. Must have been awful. The pirate life isn't about desk jobs-!" Definitely, Buggy had gotten distracted once again, now crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at the other man with curiosity and a frown.

Wanna RP together? Let’s do it.

Wanna jump into my inbox randomly? Do it.

Send me a starter? Do it.

Wanna plot? Do it. IMs are a thing now. Let’s go.

Wanna- Just do it.

the exhausted

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Can you help me back to bed?”

“I’m okay. I’m not even that tired.”

“I don’t remember the last time I slept.”

“I can’t sleep, yet. There’s too much to do.” 

“I don’t want to sleep. I keep having nightmares.”

“I promise I’ll sleep in a bit, just let me finish this, first.”

“Can you help me lie down? I can’t move, I’m too tired.”

“I can’t even think straight anymore… maybe I need to sleep.”

“Of course I want to relax. But, we don’t all get what we want.”

“I’m so tired I can’t do anything, but I’m not tired enough to sleep…”

the concerned

“You keep yawning.”

“Go. Sleep. That’s not a request.”

“If you’re that tired, just take a nap.”

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were this tired?”

“Those are some bad bags under your eyes.”

“You don’t have to push so hard. It’s okay to rest.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open, go lie down.”

“I haven’t seen you sleeping in a long time, what’s up?”

“I just had to stop you from toppling over. You’re not okay.”

“With everything you’ve been through lately, of course you’re tired.”

“I heard you thrashing around last night. Nightmares? Is that why you’re so tired?”

“You know, you keep fretting over everyone else, but you won’t even take a second to relax, yourself.”

misc

(doze) : one muse falls asleep on the other’s shoulder

(tuck) : one muse finds the other passed out onto the bed, and tucks them in

(collapsed) : one muse finds the other passed out on the floor from exhaustion

(carry) : one muse finds the other after they’ve fallen asleep on a chair / couch, and carries them to bed 

(cover) : one muse finds the other asleep somewhere other than bed and covers them with a blanket / their jacket

(assist) : one muse finds the other so tired they’re having trouble standing and helps them walk somewhere to lie down

Chopper turned to look at the approaching woman, his eyes going from fearful to relieved as he understood this to be a harmless individual, not some kind of monster or powerful enemy he couldn't hope to defeat. Of course, the instant he heard her words, his expression turned to something more irritated, eyes narrowed and face frowning in disgust.

"The Straw Hats' doctor… not pet." He grumbled, clearly more annoyed than happy to make a new friend who made such a miscalculation. He could handle his pathetic bounty, but being called a pet was always so insulting. All the effort he put into averting crisis and the government somehow never even saw it happen.

The jump from the little reindeer made her stop, not seeking to push him further away, even less now knowing he was a doctor as well, one she had never come across before.

"I would say I pay enough attention to bounties... aren't you and your crew famous?" She didn't find the situation all that odd considering that, they were constant wrecking havoc out there. "My name is Patches, I'm a doctor as well" no harm in letting him know, even less harm considering she had nothing better to do for the time being, and also? He didn't seem dangerous or ill intended.

"A friend...." She mumbled. "Is it alright if I accompany you?" Curiosity was far grater than evading getting into a mess.

Law followed the little clown throughout the sinuous insides of the big top, through the narrow alleys between seats, one heeled foot fitting at a time. He held Kikoku higher against his shoulder, almost as if a parent would carry a toddler in a crowded space for fear of losing them. It was the dirt floor he minded, to spare his sword the dishonour of meeting with some gluttonous child's half-licked, sticky-as-glue lolly. Law grimaced at the vision of paper wraps and unpopped kernels of corn sprawled under his feet. How had he allowed himself to get caught up in this mess, again?

Oh, yes. The funny (as in 'peculiar' rather than 'amusing') clown girl had lassoed him in with the promise not of entertainment, but of medicine.

She had said she was a doctor, a claim that earned her a studious gaze bundled up in doubt. This orange thing was a doctor? For all his brilliance, Law did lack the necessary amount of self-awareness to recognise that most civilians, too, would doubt him a doctor when he sported a loose shirt buttoned up with haste over his jeans and black polish over his fingernails so casually. Both he and the clown were as far removed from the semblance of a textbook doctor, with their one white coat and two rows of white teeth arranged into a reassuring smile as could be. All things considered, it was discerning of a circus to harbour a medical team, only not right next to the menagerie, he hoped, for a nomadic, strenuous lifestyle offered plenty of opportunities for injury. And the jolly roger lulling in the wind above the tarpaulin had not escaped Law's atttentive watch. Pirates required medical assistance more than the average person.

❝ Listen, Raggedy Ann...! ❞ he started, an edge of warning to his voice, her jab at his aquatic lifestyle returned in kind as he manoeuvred the space towards the reserved compound of doors and platforms the audience had no idea lay within and underneath the circus. ❝ I'll have you know submarines are lots of fun. ❞

What the hell did she know of his literary soirées? Of the crew's monthly talent shows? Of the most exciting, free-for-all race to the loo after every Tuesday's taco dinner? Why, she was but a simpleton, all too excited to watch some other idiot in oversized shoes juggle up some balls and deem it as entertainment. If there was a literal embodiment of the panem et circenses phrase, here it was.

❝ I am not a man to be toyed with. I did not come here, to the very depths of Satan's rectum, to discuss the concept of merriment over tea with a child. Where is the chlorophyte? ❞

She had said, and not just in passing, to be in possession of a rare species of algae Law had read about in his studies. Although, admittedly, phycology was a field of pharmaceutical interest he generally buried under other priorities. The species was said to be at least a hundred times more efficient than other maritime eukaryotes in boosting immunity and serving as an anticancerous agent, nothing short of a miracle if proven true. If he could get this alga into his laboratory and multiply it so he got enough specimens to sample from... Only the hypothesis of an unprecedented scientific breakthrough could have made him enter the circus tent.

Trafalgar Law hissed, catlike when the faux flower hit him with a surprise drizzle. Though hygienic, he would rather take his shower the conventional way. Just like he would like to keep his feet not stepped on by stupid miniature velocipedes! ❝ I really, really hate the circus! I'll take my clowns in the form of Ruggero Leoncavallo, thank you.❞

His eyes were daggers directed at this Doctor Patches character, but then the gold in them melted and glinted with mischief. Kikoku made another move on his shoulder, ready to lose her sheath. ❝ There is no fucking chance a clown can trick me. ❞

His words always sharp, knowing to bite and not to delay their timing, his tense posture and seeking to go straight to the point. Law was on the opposite end of being comfortable here, and she couldn't blame him, being in another pirate's territory, on his own and surrounded by things that did not bring him even a small hint of joy would probably get her tense as well, she has been through it, but it's a risk worth taking when something can be achieved out of it, like knowledge. As long as he behaved and kept that sword sheathed he would be just another guest, receiving the kind of kindness she would expect from other crews when she approaches with no ill intentions, all in the name of becoming better help for her people.

Submarines being fun...... she had never actually seen one in person, but she could just guess how dark it probably was inside one, maybe stuffy too? Being used now to something less claustrophobic she wondered how that kind of home could be made more amusing and less like a prison under water. Either way she wasn't about to jump him with such questions when he seemed more focused about the main reason for this whole scene, the algae. Hopefully at another time?

His words make her raise an eyebrow for a second as she thinks about the name he just dropped, wasn't that just a man? Not an actual clown? Almost slipping to call that one a pretender, but then again, weren't many of her crewmates also that kind of person? Still, she did have a bit to say in that regard, feeling that this captain, despite his age, seemed to not be informed about clowns in general.

"I feel like murderous pierrots are not to be trusted, same with mimes, mimes are always up to something, but then again.... harlequins tend to be pretty deceiving as well" An observation on her side, at the end of the day all of them were born to perform, well.... almost all of them. Performing aside, a life of crime seemed to be a correct tendency from her perspective, and in her mind? Justified knowing the circumstances.

His last words, though, were taken as a challenge as she just kept quiet about it, eyeing the weapon he carried so lovingly, that glint on his eyes making the ginger feel that amusement rush up her stomach. A dare? A warning? The tone he probably intended flew over her head as she just kept her mind on her own messy tracks, just wanting to navigate the interaction to where the interests of both of them intersected.

"Say I don't happen to have the specimen I told you about--" she started speaking as she continued leading the way, a door at the back of the narrow hallway, barely lit with colourful lights hanging from the walls, full of stacked boxes with props and clothes on their sides, a long rack with costumes squeezed between long glittery curtains. "That I just wanted to divert your attention from something far worse..." A pause, for slightly dramatic effect, while her gloved hand grasped the knob of the door in front of them. "Or I just wanted to waste your precious time. I feel like that could be considered a trick, albeit a boring one" turning to take one look at him Patches gave him a slow nod. "Of course... that's not the case"

Once the door opened she made sure to keep it that way for him once she walked inside, the space a tiny room barely neater than the main circus tent itself, but for the use she gave it, it was just perfect enough. A single light on the ceiling was more than enough to illuminate it all, a couple of chairs and a table, brightly colored, pressed against the back wall, a couple of shelves with random and messily placed books and other trinkets on the left, a few bags with what seemed to be yarn on the opposite end. On top of the table a transparent box filled with water, the plant itself resting in it, behind it equipment she would use to investigate majorly plants as well as other elements that could fit in tubes.

"I would say I got lucky coming across it, but there was a problem... none of the books I ever laid hands on ever had any proper information on what a good use of this would be, well, more like-- multiple answers, nothing concrete and no extraction guides. I imagined someone with your years of experience might know more" he was here after all. Oh, right. "I'm also not a child" a hint of annoyance seemed to mix with her neutral tone, recalling it now that she addressed his possible age. Typical old people behaviour, thinking everyone else was just a kid compared to them.

The veins on his forehead bulged threateningly as he listened to Dr. Patches's tittle-tattle of clown types, unaccustomed to hearing a voice other than his own stretch a minor footnote into a full essay. Another time, another place, a lesser amount of prejudice, Law would have been quite pleased to bask in cultured chatter. ❝ Reinforcing what I said earlier, I did not come to pontificate on subjective merriment or commedia dell'arte. You could learn from your idols and pantomime accordingly. Save me the trouble of your pesky voice. ❞

It was a good thing he was slim. The passageway the clown had him traverse was too strait even for an alley cat's liking, and someone's afterthought of turning it into a spare dressing room was so daft it became ingenious. Behind his melancholy hostess, Law stuck his tongue out at a balloon in the guise of a flamingo, all the more flamboyant in a pair of plastic glasses empty of lenses and covered in gaudy pink sparkles. How kitsch! But say, that feathery coat of a sage hue over there, draped atop cloths of stripes and polka dots, that one did have thrifting appeal. Maybe Law would return for it after his business with the clown was through. With a final middle finger erected and directed at the flamingo, Law returned his gaze to the massive orange shape resembling a pumpkin that was Patches and stopped in his tracks.

His brow furrowed deeper at her words as if it were made of children's playdough. Everything coming out of the woman's mouth was perfectly aggravating, from the notion of having been lured into this house of horrors under a false pretense, to the thought it all had been in vain — the sticky floors, the glittery curtains, the tasteless pleasantries of the circus — if there was no specimen to be found at the end of the motherfucking rainbow.

❝ I would hardly call that a trick. Falsification without cunning is nought but a brainless action. ❞ He concluded coolly, finally stepping inside another antechamber to his personal Tartaturs.

There were books, yet this was no library. There were beakers and Bunsen burners, yet this was no laboratory. The colourful tones that reflected off the furniture dirtied up the place, giving it the aura of a clandestine drug-producing facility, at best, or the living quarters of a destitute dope fiend, at its worst. Thus, what had started as a steady walk towards the table became a quick run, as Law feared for the state his precious alga might be in, at risk in such foolish hands!

Pumpkin, bumpkin.

❝ YOU…! HARE-BRAINED GIRL! ❞ Law snapped as if Patches had just insulted his darling mother, and she could count herself lucky he had not hit her with more vulgar language. The anger raging inside rendered Law momentarily unable of producing articulate speech, let alone quality, deep-burning insults. ❝ You haven't the foggiest! Grr! ❞ He pulled at his hair, threatening to pull it off his scalp in one brazen motion. ❝ Fuck this uncontrolled and chaotic environment! This fucking light! Don't you know plants are photosynthetic and the misuse of light's wavelengths and wave amplitude could cause an unwanted reaction, thus compromising any scientific endeavour--❞

Wheezing, Law had to stop for breath. He patted his pockets for a salbutamol inhaler. The indignity of the situation the poor alga had been exposed to, bare and desolate under some clown's garish palette, made him angry as if the plant were factually his. His specimen, his research, his motherfucking results!

Law rested his cheek against the glass of the tank for a moment, almost as if saying 'don't worry, dear, daddy's got you'. He found comfort in the idea that he could revert this situation and save the alga once it was safe in the controlled environment of the Tang. As for the bluish pickle bobbing about in the water and staring back at his distorted figure, it stayed mum on the subject of salvation.

One single drop of sweat tumbled down Law's forehead.

Oh, could there be no end to his misery?!

❝ Yeah, no shit?! If someone had already found out how to best use this alga for medical purposes, they would have published peer-reviewed articles already, wouldn't they? There's no biblio-- ❞ Law's speech cut off a second time; a most rare precedent that seemed increasingly habitual as of recently. To him, it was an embarrassing nuisance. To her, a possibly proud victory. Not many women could boast about having a similar effect on Trafalgar Law… whatever that meant.

❝ What do you mean you're not a girl'? You must be what, fifteen? ❞

And the surprises just kept coming. Boy, did he hate the wretched, foul, anathematised, motherfucking circus!!

His sudden run made her stare at him curious and then an-- insult? followed, looking extremely offended and frustrated, angry, and for a second there Patches tried to not talk back as the poor poor victim of this colorful hell stumbled through his rage to get his point across. Don't pull too hard.... the clown barely voiced out, not wanting to interrupt yet also not wanting to see this middle aged man lose all of his hair in one second.

"Huh?" was the noise that escaped her as Law finally pointed out the source of his sudden outburst, then again, it could have happened at any given moment considering how much he had been holding back internally. "The lights?" her head tilted back to look at the poor light above their heads, which seemed to threaten to leave them in the dark between short blinks generously spaced out. "I think it's... not that bad" she had seen wors--- oooohhhhh it was because of the plant. Right. "Is that so...?" she gave that up, she wasn't going to argue against this one, not when his breath seemed to get a bit too short. The least Patches wanted was to be the cause of death of this guy, and all because an algae!! Now wouldn't that be weirdly funny?

So he was easily irritable, kind of a weirdo, short of breath and balding, oh this poor man...

"You have a point? That's why you are here, doctor Law" her brow relaxed as he threw that at her, it made sense, why was he frustrated? "Obviously if someone had written about it before I wouldn't have tried to contact you, wouldn't I--- fift---" her words cut off as the Heart's captain threw that age estimate at her, unsure if to feel flattered or annoyed, how did she even look fifteen!? Was he blind? Was it that?

"I'm thirty two, I would advise you get glasses for your tired old man eyes, Trafalgar" was her reply to it, calm as can be even if she still felt internally amused at his hold on the tank where the plant floated, uninterested in their yapping. "Take a seat before you colapse from your outburst, it can't be good for your heart, I can also go get you a drink too if you want, we got soda... though I'm unsure if sugar would be good for you" the clown doctor tried to be accommodating for the other, both in good faith and attempting to poke at his short patience for his late outburst.

"Now breathe in, breath out, and calm down about the lights" and said that, the orange lady reached for the light switch to turn it off, leaving them in the dark, only source of light barely pushing through the hallway and past the doorframe in pink and blue hues. "There. Better?"