spices are gift from the devil

Not until post-lunch clean-up was finished did Sanji typically reward himself with chain smoking half a pack of cigarettes and taking part in his fellow crew mates antics along the deck. Imagine his surprise when what should have been a fresh pack went missing from his pocket. He had just finished patting down and checking every pocket on his well-tailored suit of the day, curly brows fixed in a scowl.

Sanji was almost positive he hadn' left them on he couner he had just finished cleaning down, but was prepared to check before considering it a lost cause and getting a new pack altogeher when Nami caught his attention.

Instantly his mood lifted. “I should have known,” he laughed in response, snatching them from his pretty little fingers with a broad smile. How he had missed her swipe them was beyond him- no, that was a lie. He knew exactly what had done him in- Nami was as clever as she was beautiful, with the prettiest doe eyes that held his attention while she robed him blind.

He would happily let her take anything she wanted from him. Nami had long since stolen his heart, after all. She was everything to him and there was nothing in the world he wouldn't do for her. She needn't even ask, a look was all he needed.

“Nami-swan.” Sanji breathed her name out, lopsided grin snapping into place after several heartbeats of surprise. Another beat and his hands were around her waist. “Pinch me, I think I'm dreaming. The most beautiful woman in the entire world just called me handsome."

there was a meme

For the later part of the morning and afternoon Franky toiled hard on the rooftop of the building he occupied and owned. Music blasted in the background, drowning out the noises of hammering, the large man singing along (and likely the reason the neighboring building's dog kept howling from the open window).

It was no wonder he hadn't heard the soft approach of the retired archeologist, who was immediately offered a grin that reached both ears.

Scooping them into her arms, she clung to them. Perona was being polite in offering such fine products to the other pirate, but she saw now she was dealing with a complete and total moron. "No- You can't possibly mean that! There's no way water is enough," she sniffed, nose in the air.

"It's just something I do in my spare time," she explained, grasping the sketch book to hold it close to her chest. "It would be a waste not to dress everyone."

Perona had always been one for taking on new hobbies and was particular about her own clothing design that it had only made sense to start sketching out her ideals. Typically she just designed for herself, but once the idea of a themed tea party took ahold of her, she couldn't stop sketching until every member of the cross guild that mattered had been drawn in proper attire.

She had never had an actual job before, her job as a Thriller Bark title was more a title to what Moria already deemed she had a right to as ghost princess. Treasure was good, but so was receiving regular pay.

The ghost princess jabbed the man in side with a well manicured nail. "I will remind you that I'm not a child like your Miss Golden Week," she pouted, hands on hips once she was sure that he was paying enough attention.

"Horo?" Eyeing the plate suspiciously, Perona lifts it to her eyes to assess it from all angles for something amiss. It looked like a grilled cinnamon bagel and a single sniff was all she needed to tell her that that the jelly was strawberry (her favorite!), not to mention the presentation was impeccable.

Once she was positive it wasn't poisoned (a gal like her had many enemies and could never be too sure) she lifts it to her mouth for a single, delicate bite.

A single bite was all she needed to melt into her chair. How was it so good!? She had made the same every day since she was little and hers could never compare. Not until every last crumb was removed from the plate did Perona seek out Sanji.

"That was really good, but how did you know strawberry jelly on a cinnamon bagel is my favorite?"

For years Perona had declined the offer to have a suitable husband found for her rather than meet one in the normal fashion, however upon her twenty-fifth birthday the so-called Ghost Princess of Thriller Bark and only heir to it's fame should her adopted father perish had a rather sudden change of heart. A sense of loneliness had crept upon her, for meeting men in the typical fashion (balls, garden parties, etc) were not easy to find within the thick walls of the keep she had grown up within. One did not simply make a romantic connection in a home infested with zombies that scared away potential suitors. That's without mention of the man that raised her and the strange company her uncles kept.

That was not to say Perona herself was everyone's cup of tea, nor did she wish to be. Her own interests in the supernatural were in large part thanks to the ghostly powers that had been bestowed upon her at birth. Her preferences for night time haunts and particular brand of humor (not to mention her laugh) were enough to scare away anyone that the zombies and weird uncles did not.

Perhaps arrangement were not the correct word, for a woman of such status she had been given a choice, starting with a list of demands. She didn't much care for the age of her future husband so much as status, wealth, and an extremely strong preference that her potential new home was as perfectly gloomy as the one she grew up in, with sprawling graveyards. To not have such a thing for romantic evening walks would be a travesty.

An acquaintance (coworker, more like) of her father's had assured that he already had the prefect match in another warlord (status) potentially looking for a mate of his own. A luncheon was arranged, so that if Perona decided she liked Kuraigana and thought the man that owned the island (wealth) were agreeable that she might stay. From there, if all went well, she would be engaged within the month and married before the year was up. She didn't want jynx it before even meeting the man, but there was a certain appeal to the potential for an October wedding.

Perona didn't know much about her potential betrothed besides his name and status as the strongest swordsman in the world (power- something she did not ask for but would not complain about) and what her father and uncles had told her.

On paper he did appear nearly the perfect match and she wasn't remotely disapointed by the landscape upon her walk to the castle's doors. His home was lovely with twisting hills, lush forests and gloomy skies. Broken rubble and strewn weapons along the port suggested that a battle had once waged here, which was close enough to meeting her request for graveyards as long as the fights remained well away from the castle itself.

Dressed in her prettiest black and white tiered ruffle dress, Perona floated towards the large double door. Not once had she needed to break out her parasol in thanks to the perpetual gloomy weather she noted with a smile, taking just a moment to adjust her skirts before knocking.

Honestly, if Nami said she hated he would have grasped her list and lead her straight to his quarters, hand her the scissors and request she do the honors then and there. She did always like his eyes though, hadn't she? Had she not been the voice of reason in his head Sanji might not have even considered it a choice for himself at all.

The touch of the cartographer's delicate hands along his own caused a jolt of lightning to seer through him- how he missed her every touch! He foated after her, a man upon cloud nine from being graced with his Nami-swan's beauty and adoration.

If his staff were worried, it was likely more for their employer than the woman before him. “Be still my heart,” he clutched his chest, grinning like a lovesick fool. “Do you know how many years I've hoped to see those words?”