[ he takes his time with the tray, knowing nami won’t have an appetite, won’t even want to think about eating, so he has to make it extra special, extra appealing, extra… just extra. extra good, to make up for all the ways he’s failed, lately. savory quiches and chocolate scones. raspberry rose cream tea, and chamomile lemon for later, when she wants to sleep. a circular arrangement of finger sandwiches, for anyone else annoying enough to show up. he sets out little pots of clotted cream, sugar and honey, freshly polished utensils and linen napkins, neatly folded. it’s perfect, if it was a normal day, and he was asking nami to spend the afternoon with him on the lawn for a romantic tea party.
he stabs his cigarette into the overfull ashtray and lights another, huffing out a cloud of smoke. there’s no wasting all this food, so he covers the tray and hoists it up with one hand. somebody will eat it. and if nobody does, then sanji will eat it. he has no preference, and he only has to take into account what nami likes now, even if he knows all of zoro’s favorite recipes and could make them in his sleep.
it’s only because he’s holding the food that he doesn’t stop to kick the wall, his eyes flinty and his mouth hard. his trek to nami’s room is silent, passing by in a trail of smoke, and he pauses outside of her door for a brief moment so that when he turns the knob and lets himself in, there’s a gentle expression on his face. ]
Nami. I brought you a few things. [ he busies himself setting out the gleaming tray, turning over one warmed teacup to pour out the steaming pink liquid, sweetening it with sugar the way she likes it. with a quiet clink, he sets the saucer and cup at her bedside, then notices there’s already tea there. some shitty kind that he recognizes from shanks. he bristles. ] There’s food, for when you get hungry.
[ she’s a miserable lump on the bed, sanji’s chest tightening at the sight, and when he leans down to tug the covers down and brush her hair from her eyes, they’re red from crying. ]
I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I had to… [ he had to what? yell at koby? fetch zoro’s stupid sword that he’d left on his bed that he’d never, ever find? play back every moment in the snow a hundred times over that caused zoro to leave them both? his eyes prickle hotly, and he takes a deep drag of his cigarette and sits on the bed. ] I’m sorry. I’ll close the restaurant tomorrow. I don’t know where Jinx is.
post zoro disappearance, later in the night
he stabs his cigarette into the overfull ashtray and lights another, huffing out a cloud of smoke. there’s no wasting all this food, so he covers the tray and hoists it up with one hand. somebody will eat it. and if nobody does, then sanji will eat it. he has no preference, and he only has to take into account what nami likes now, even if he knows all of zoro’s favorite recipes and could make them in his sleep.
it’s only because he’s holding the food that he doesn’t stop to kick the wall, his eyes flinty and his mouth hard. his trek to nami’s room is silent, passing by in a trail of smoke, and he pauses outside of her door for a brief moment so that when he turns the knob and lets himself in, there’s a gentle expression on his face. ]
Nami. I brought you a few things. [ he busies himself setting out the gleaming tray, turning over one warmed teacup to pour out the steaming pink liquid, sweetening it with sugar the way she likes it. with a quiet clink, he sets the saucer and cup at her bedside, then notices there’s already tea there. some shitty kind that he recognizes from shanks. he bristles. ] There’s food, for when you get hungry.
[ she’s a miserable lump on the bed, sanji’s chest tightening at the sight, and when he leans down to tug the covers down and brush her hair from her eyes, they’re red from crying. ]
I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I had to… [ he had to what? yell at koby? fetch zoro’s stupid sword that he’d left on his bed that he’d never, ever find? play back every moment in the snow a hundred times over that caused zoro to leave them both? his eyes prickle hotly, and he takes a deep drag of his cigarette and sits on the bed. ] I’m sorry. I’ll close the restaurant tomorrow. I don’t know where Jinx is.