#steamsoot

"And what has your wayward terror gotten himself into now?"

The words accompany the gentle clink of a coffee mug being placed before him. Rocinante looks up from the morning's paper and casts a lopsided grin up at his oldest friend.

"Hey, thanks, Karasu," he chuckles, amber eyes crinkling with mirth. "Seems he was wrapped up in the incident in Sabaody, but the reporting is mostly focused on those Strawhats."

"Unsurprising. They've been making waves for months now." There was an amused chuckle from behind the corvid mask. "I trust you got his latest poster?"

"Hung it up as soon as I got my hands on it," Roci admits while rubbing at the back of his neck with a hand, a touch flustered. "I know *morally* I shouldn't be proud that the kid turned pirate, but..."

"Nonense. You and I both know that things are never so black and white," Karasu huffs, taking the seat opposite the other man. "Besides, he's made a name for himself as the 'Surgeon of Death', I imagine he's had the decency to earn the right to claim the first half of said moniker."

"Yeah, yeah he would have, the little shit."

Lifting the warm mug to his lips, Roci takes a pensive sip before sighing. "Every new milestone he hits, I can't help but to cheer him on. I just wish it wasn't from the shadows..."

"Mmm, not the first time we've beaten this particular dead horse, Rocinante," Karasu reminds him, a brow raised. "You yourself have even agreed that it is not the time to reveal the truth to him."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," the blonde mutters sourly, lips curled into a pout.

"No, and no one would ask you to. It's an act of selflessness that you prioritize his journey and safety, knowing that if the wrong person got wind---or worse, saw you---and news reached Dressrosa..."

"I know, I know. It's just...rotten."

"Aaaaand, you also have more chips in you than a jar of cookies, don't forget!"

The pair look over as a jovial Lindbergh joins them at the table, setting a cup of tea in front of Karasu before climbing into the seat beside him. And while he rolls his eyes, the stoic commander leans down to nuzzle the tip of his beak into the fur behind the mink's ear, murmuring a quiet greeting.

"Oh, trust me, I don't need reminding about that," Roci assures, though can't help smiling just a bit to see the affectionate exchange.

Just over a decade now that Rocinante has been sidelined from fieldwork. Not to make light of his efforts at Baltigo, of course, there are no unimportant roles held within the Army. He does his best to support his fellow commanders from his desk in their intelligence office, but it never feels like enough. Every day that finds him too weak to get up from bed or passing out on his paperwork only serve to remind him of his limitations.

It was a miracle he survived that day on Minion Island, and if not for the swift work of his comrades, he wouldn't even be here to complain. Despite their best efforts, however, they had not been able to get all the stone bullet fragments out. And so they remain, perpetually sapping his strength and dulling his powers to near-useless.

"Hey. You know I'm just teasing, Roci," Lindbergh interrupts his friend's ruminating. "We're gonna get that figured. Somehow."

"Yes. It was a bit of a letdown, missing the window to get you an audience with Vegapunk," Karasu hums, unlatching his mask to be able to drink his tea. "But I know Dragon will not give up on finding someone who can help with your predicament."

"It's alright, I know things have been heating up, it isn't something he can afford to prioritize right now," Rocinante shrugs with a good-natured smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I owe him my life in the first place, twice over now, that's already more than I can repay. I can't complain."

The pair across from him exchange a look. Lindbergh pushes his goggles atop his head before shaking it.

"To be fair, you got pretty messed up while on a mission, so he owes *you* for that."

"If I stuck to my mission, I wouldn't have been there in the first place..."

"Are we bringing *all* the horses out today, Rocinante? It's neither here nor there now," Karasu cuts in, resting a hand on his partner's shoulder. "You were doing what your heart told you was right. And you were correct. Your actions not only saved the life of a child---a survivor of Flevance, no less---but you also prevented the Ope Ope no Mi falling into the hands of both the Marines and your brother."

"Yes, exactly!" Lindbergh chimes in, his voice accented with a light purring. "I can't imagine either of them had good intentions for that thing. Now your kid can do some good with it, instead."

"Alright, guys, seriously," Rocinante protests, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "The horses are back in the stable, yeesh. I know it was the right thing to do, but it was everything else about it that shot me in the foot."

"I think your foot was the only spot they missed, actually..." the mink teases, yelping a moment later as Karasu smacks the back of his head.

But Rocinante laughs warmly and the conversation shifts to other things. It's pleasant and familiar, their companionship comforting whenever they had the time to visit with him between their own missions. Particularly Karasu, the one he owes even more to than Dragon.

At only sixteen and with every reason to turn him away, he had encountered a recently orphaned Rocinante as he ran as far away from his brother as he'd been able to on his own. Instead, Karasu took him in and kept him safe, got him new clothes to wear and food to eat. After that, little Roci had become his shadow, imprinting on the teenager like a baby duck. So when the time came and Karasu joined the Revolutionary Army, it had been a package deal.

Which will only make it all the much harder for him when he goes forward with his plan. Behind his usual, lopsided smile, Rocinante is already well into the final stages of making his "escape". He knows, logically, his medical conditions are not anywhere near the top of the pile. He knows Dragon cares, that his fellow commanders and friends care...but they all have a far greater duty to attend to.

Selfish. Roci knows he's being selfish, he's putting his heart first again before anything else. He figures that only the Revolutionary Army would mourn him, anyway, if that's how things go. For all his former ward knows, Rocinante died years ago...so, no harm there, right? But if this is going to be his life, if he isn't going to ever get any better...then he at least wants to see Law again.