#mr zero

YESSS

Galdino hissed as Crocodile grabbed his styled topknot tightly in his powerful hand. The hair pulled against his scalp as his boss used it to pull him closer, and the hiss turned into a whimper.

“Sir!” Galdino whined, dropping limply against Crocodile's chest.

“What? You're telling me there's some other reason for the ridiculous hair style?” The look in Crocodile's golden eyes was shrewd and searching, like he was daring Galdino to say something.

Galdino bit his lip as the pain in his scalp faded, and once again he considered letting slip what he knew.

What he thought he knew, at least.

He was almost sure that Sir Crocodile, his boss at the Rain Dinners casino where Galdino worked as an accountant, was also the elusive ‘Mr. Zero’ who employed him as an assassin for Baroque Works.

Galdino prided himself on his genius. He had put all the details together. It made sense. He was positive he was right.

But what if he was wrong? Or worse, what if he was right and Crocodile didn't want him to know? Galdino's future might be considerably less comfortable… or shorter… if that were the case…

Like a hundred times before, Galdino let the moment pass.

His shoulders drooped, and he leaned into the touch of Crocodile's hand, his fingers petting down from his scalp to his jaw.

“Ah… No other reason, sir. I wear my hair like this so you can grab it.”

Crocodile chuckled and a cloud of pungent cigar smoke enveloped Galdino as he leaned down and cupped his face. Crocodile's sparkling gaze held him pinned as surely as his hook ever did.

“Good man, ‘Dino. You always know what I want to hear.”