“Aagh… I'm a disgrace, Hawk Eyes… If that bastard was here, I would have totally pounced on him by now. I want to devour that man! Someone. Anyone. But I'm stuck here. And Daz is away tending to my other businesses. And all the other men in this pathetic circus are completely unusable!” He sighs. “Unless I kill them afterwards, of course…”

Finding suitable partners has never been easy for someone with as many secrets as Crocodile. Over the years, he has developed quite a few ways to be creative on his own with sand, but sometimes, when the hunger for meat strikes, there's just no alternative…

He drags his hand across his face. “Ugh… Perhaps I should do that. They won't miss one…”

But Mihawk then says, with the same straight face as always,

“Why don't we fuck, instead?”

Crocodile jolts up.

“What? You? Saying that?” He yells, surprised, while staring at the man who has never shown any interest in anyone beside a few worthy swordsmen before.

Mihawk shrugs.

“You're hot. I'm hot. We're both drunk, and willing, with nothing to do. Why not?”

Crocodile is also surprised to hear such an answer. But soon, a huge grin grows on his face.

“I thought you liked swords, Hawk Eyes.”

Mihawk looks at him, unfazed. And then pulls his pendant's knife out and uses it to trim his nails.

“Smaller blades have their charm, and sheathes are part of the trade. Besides, a man like you, Crocodile, surely carries a few swords in his arsenal. Am I wrong?” he asks, checking his work.

Crocodile huffs, amused.

“No, you're not.”

And then pulls Mihawk to sit on his lap.

“Come here, Hawk Eyes, you slut.”

“Says the bitch in heat.”