[ Mark is feeling very, very raw at the moment. Can't sleep, because every time he shuts his eyes he sees his hands, covered in blood. Can't do a whole lot of anything else, because every time he sees his hands—
Amid the everything, something someone said to him once comes to mind: If anyone tries to deny her the right to live, I'll become the demon of the Blue Sea and kill them.
Or something like that.
He's going to toss and turn on it for a moment longer before figuring, fuck it. Fuck it, maybe what he needs right now is someone who already knows what to do with those kinds of feelings. He hopes Sanji hasn't actually had to live it out, but—
If Mark was thinking clearer he'd have probably sent a text or something. As it stands, nope, he's straight up giving Sanji a call, pacing back and forth as he waits for him to pick up, agitated and terrified and stressed out of his mind all at once. ]
[Meanwhile, Sanji hides among the foliage on an island where nigh everything is colored pink. Catching his breath in as much silence as he can muster, he watches his pursuers roaming the clearing from a distance. Their backs are to him as they chatter among themselves, oblivious to his presence. Just when it looks like he's about to be in the clear and can exhale in peace, however, he chokes on that very breath when the theme song of the show's sixth round blares from the forgotten phone in his pant pocket.
Multiple sets of eyes snap toward him in an instant. Sanji shoots up, whirls around, and breaks into a sprint, all while the phone continues blasting at what feels like a deafening volume without the slightest care for his plight. Drawn by the noise, more pursuers pop up around the vicinity, forcing Sanji to veer toward the beach as he fishes out the phone.
In his haste to get the thing to shut up, he barely registers the name on the screen before all but shouting into the mic:] Huh?!
[ Mark has been very busy trying to stew in all of his (well-earned, but still) angst, so after being left on delay for so long, the sudden shout that blasts his ear has him wincing and holding the phone away for a second.
Okay. Okay, no, he's back in reality now. A reality where other people might have their own problems; where they might not just be standing in their bedroom with the most serious thing to have ever happened to anyone ever hanging over them, needing someone to talk to.
... But he's already called Sanji is the thing here, so. Okay. Okay, ]
Sanji— Hi, sorry. [ A beat, having the grace to go from sounding upset to mildly embarrassed as he continues. ] Shit, is this a bad time?
[It's been a bad year (save for his routine correspondence with Asa; those make the rest of his days bearable).
Frazzled as he is, Sanji's senses are wholly alert that he clocks the upset in Mark's tone. There's not going to be a good time for yet another year from now, so he keeps the phone up to his ear while parrying an incoming kick with one of his own.]
What is it?!
[Mark can probably hear the high-pitched yet masculine battle cries in the background as more pursuers converge around Sanji, who's on the verge of screaming, because he's in the middle of an important conversation.]
[ Yeah, not only can he hear the frantic quality to Sanji's voice, but he's pretty sure he can hear the reason for it, too. And that his him shoving all of his problems off to the side, because the threat of a friend being in immediate danger far outweighs his own angst once his own danger has passed.
So, instead, urgency flooding his own tone: ] Do you need help? Should I come over??
[ Nevermind that he'd probably end up in Sanji's world for a while if he did; this seems a lot more pressing? And after his wish, things are... better, here. Maybe not necessarily great, considering recent events, but good enough that he can afford to go flying off elsewhere on a whim if it means helping someone else. Which he is about two seconds away from doing, regardless of what Sanji actually says, unless he hears pure calm coming from his end of the line. ]
[The word punches out of him, punctuated with a kick to knock aside his next opponent. No, he does not need help. Unintelligible words trickle over to Mark's side, followed by Sanji's booming shout at the crowd:] Back off—this call isn't for you!
[His exasperation is met with a chorus of teasing tones. The okama proceed to pelt him with needless questions about his conversation partner, all while still launching themselves at him. One of them gives a bizarre bodily wiggle and asks in a loud voice, "Is it Josuke?" to which Sanji sputters.]
Shut up!
[A series of odd scraping and thudding sounds fill Mark's audio feed as Sanji drops onto his hands and delivers spinning kicks to create a wide berth around him. Then he flip onto his feet and leaps into the sky, running like he's on fire toward the sun. Wind whips around the phone, which he raises to his ear again.]
[ The thing about listening on the other end of a phone line is that it can leave one feeling awfully helpless. And that's what Mark is stuck doing, listening — first as Sanji tells him he doesn't need his help, but then it keeps going, other voices trickling through, to the point that Sanji seems kind of upset.
(And was that Josuke's name he heard?? Huh??)
He listens to the teasing, the loud voices, Sanji's exasperation, the sounds of what might be fighting?? And that's it, there's only so much of this he can impotently take. He's already pulling his costume on, because it feels right to have it for this, mind made up. ]
Hold on — I'm coming over.
[ Because it really, really sounds like he needs help. Mark just wanted someone to talk to, but maybe getting to punch some guys to help a friend is better than talking, actually.
And before Sanji can so much as object the call is dropped, Mark's phone snapping shut — and there he is, right in the sky with Sanji, full superhero regalia on and everything—
Wait, Sanji isn't falling. Sanji isn't falling! He can't help but grin at him, not entirely sure where the threat is coming from, but happy to just bask in this moment first. ]
Sanji! I, uh... [ okay maybe this is a little awkward now, actually. ] I did want to talk, but it sounded like you needed help...
[ looking around for the threat like. Did he need help?? ]
Sanji hops in place, casually alternating one foot with the other to stay airborne, as he whips his head in the direction of the costumed stranger. The tension in his shoulders and legs drains away, and the anxiety of having to deal with the mess below in the sky dissipates once he recognizes Mark's voice.]
Didn't I tell you that I don't? [All the same, Sanji's tone is resigned now that Mark is here.] I was in the middle of training.
[This seems important to point out when he looks worse for wear compared to his tidy appearance back at the house. His clothes are crumpled with a few tears here and there; sand clings to the suit fabric in patches while his face sports old scratches on his cheeks, a split lip, and a trail of dried blood stemming from one temple. He can't have Mark getting the wrong idea and fighting battles designed for his own gain.
Said threats—men of impressive physique and size, all dressed in drag—clamor below them from the shore of a vibrant island. Actually, it sounds like they're squealing, their quest to corner Sanji momentarily forgotten in the buzzing excitement of a new male presence. Sanji ignores them in favor of putting away his damned phone, procuring a pack of cigarettes (branded Death) from his pocket, and lighting a stick now that he no longer has to hide.]
But it's about time for a break, so I'll hear you out.
Mark at least has the decency to pull his mask off as he takes in Sanji's appearance; the tears on his clothes, the blood on his face. Is that from training or an actual fight... He looks down at the shore below them, the... colourful cast of characters there. Is this the world Sanji lives in... what kind of training is this...
He's a little lost in his head, just kind of. Staring. For the moment. But as long as they're in the air it doesn't seem like a threat, which brings up a whole other thing, since the last time Sanji was in the air he was perched on Mark's shoulders, and—
Looking back up at Sanji again when he speaks. Catches the label on the cigarette pack which, uh. And for the moment, his own problems seem far away (quite possibly because they literally are, now that he's in another world entirely). ]
I didn't know you were training— [ IS that what this is. peering down at the men below them again— ] Wait, I didn't know you could fly?
[ Gesturing at Sanji's feet, the little hopping motions while Mark is just hovering there, not moving otherwise. When he looks back up at Sanji he's beaming though, clearly not at all bothered by this development. ]
[There's always something about that first puff. Sanji takes a drag on the cigarette, holds it for a blissful moment, and exhales a cloud of smoke deeply in the next. His gaze trained toward the clouds is distant as he recalls the harrowing memory.]
When I was cornered, the only way left was up . . . so I ran toward the sky, and this is the result.
[He can walk on air. The speed and duration of his artificial flight are restricted by his bodily limits, but he's been improving those in . . . training. Yeah.
Sanji snaps back to attention, eyeing Mark, who's bared his face. Well, he supposes there's no harm in showing it here of all places—and so high up, too. But he'd rather lose the crowd for the conversation they're bound to have, so he begins trekking inland, still airbone, to move out of sight.]
[ He is never going to understand smoking for so many reasons, but hey, as long as Sanji is happy. (Is it even conducive to training— whatever though, they're taking a break, right? Or rather, Sanji is. Sanji was the one doing something. Mark just crashed the party unnecessarily— anyway.)
As Sanji starts moving inland Mark follows along, his own body going horizontal to move alongside him. Two completely different methods of flying — he'd have never guessed it, but also, there really is something nice about being able to hang out with a friend like this. It never gets old. ]
That... really sounds like you, actually. [ Sanji just... running towards the sky. ] Now you've got a way to always be free.
[ He's really clung to that, even as his world views have had to expand, bit by bit. Sanji, so openly a pirate, but so he can stay free. Especially after he saw the cell— He isn't going to be so crass as to bring it up, just that the need for freedom is his anchor for knowing that Sanji is a good guy. Deserves to have good things, like his own determination and spirit granting him the ability to be up here. It keeps Mark's voice warm, keeps him from spiralling out in his own head again.
He looks down at all of the men they're passing by; back up towards the rest of this very pink island; back to Sanji. ]
[A swirled eyebrow twitches at the sentiment. Oh, if only he could be free! But no, he isn't strong enough yet, hence the training. Like it or not, he's committed for another year at the least.]
Away from those guys. There's over a hundred of them scattered across the island, and they never agreed to stop for anything. As long as we stay out of sight, they won't bother us. Then we can talk about why you're here.
[As soon as he goes through this cigarette and gets rid of his trail.
They're going to have a grand time looking for someplace that'll camouflage Mark's blues and yellows. Under a canopy might have to do the trick. Finding someplace quiet is important, because the guy is ridiculously earnest, talking about freedom like that; he can't have called for nothing.]
The Baratie in its pre-time skip era boasts four levels with an upper deck for the cooks to rest, a middle deck that holds the kitchen, and a lower deck where customers sit. Fins that fold out from the underside serve as the fourth level during harsh weather or battle by creating a platform and expanding the ship's surface area. The restaurant is staffed by twenty-odd cooks and no waiters; should Mark ask, Patty the patissier or Carne the meat master will explain that the waitstaff all jumped ship months ago after the frequent feuds with pirates scared them off. They might even joke that Sanji served as their main waiter for a time despite being the sous-chef, for all the good it did when he was the most prone to starting fights and driving away the clientele.
The Baratie is somewhat renowned for its ocean-going status and the rough temperament of its staff. While its overall ambience is typical of a high-quality restaurant, the cooks often get into scuffles with unruly customers and pirates who seek to loot the establishment. The cooks utilize a combination of firearms and oversized cutlery in a fight with the exception of Zeff, the head chef under whom Sanji apprenticed in the culinary and martial arts.
Zeff is a kicker who can crush bedrock and stop bullets mid trajectory with his peg leg alone. Mark will probably see a resemblance between Zeff and Sanji in their gruff mannerisms, though the former is much rougher in the kitchen as he teaches his cooks by striking out with his leg. Casual violence notwithstanding, the cooks unanimously respect Zeff for taking them in after being rejected by other establishments for their brutish natures. To Mark, they'll speak highly of Zeff and recount how he and Sanji founded the restaurant nine years ago. If asked, they'll describe the two's relationship as cantankerous, but close. Carne might go as far as to explain that Zeff, a former pirate once known as Red Leg for his bloodstained feet, gave up piracy after eating his leg when Sanji was a boy to prevent the latter from starving to death. Consequently, there's an unwritten rule on the Baratie that food must never be wasted.
A culinary master in his own right, Zeff's style is reminiscent of Sanji's, who's much more experimental with his dishes. The staff eat what they've made during breaks, and Zeff's food is always top-notch when he gets around to cooking. Mark will be invited to eat with the cooks and probably answer questions about how Sanji is doing: Word is that Sanji's crew was annihilated at the halfway point of their voyage after an ugly run-in with the government, but the cooks all believed he was okay once his captain showed up on the news later.
Said captain once worked as a chore boy for the Baratie after blasting a hole in the roof and hurting Zeff on accident. The debt was forgiven after Luffy thwarted a pirate attack, and he left with Sanji shortly thereafter.
For the most part, the cooks will be affable to Mark, whom they know as a friend of Sanji's from some dating show where he made off with a cute girl. They'll occasionally ask about Asa and have a hoot about how Sanji might finally stop costing the Baratie once he returns, because he had a bad habit of serving women for free. They'll also express an interest in getting to know Mark without being too intrusive, ranging from basic questions about himself to his interests and his plans for the near future. Many of the cooks are much older than Sanji and Mark, so their treatment of him might be akin to that of a distant nephew. They'll definitely make a comment here and there about how Mark has a much nicer temperament next to Sanji's legendarily ugly temper, pointing to how often he and Patty in particular would get into arguments.
Patty is perhaps the closest to Mark's age at the prime age of 27. Boisterous and passionate, his belief that the "customer is king" is ironically hindered by his backhanded formalities of calling the clientele suckers and squid-face. He'll be the most likely to tease Sanji when talking to Mark, grousing about Sanji's lousy customer service while acknowledging that Sanji was the softest of them, because he would always feed the penniless who couldn't pay behind Patty's back. Patty is headstrong, making him the most opinionated and brashest cook of the bunch.
Carne is another prominent cook who's older and more level-headed by comparison. He has a broader knowledge of current events and will be Mark's go-to source for information on the world and stories pertaining to the Baratie. At one point, he might recall how the cooks used to regard Sanji with suspicion, believing that he just wanted to take over the Baratie without realizing how deep his bond with Zeff runs. Carne is the most likely to impress that Zeff is a father figure to them, but to Sanji most of all. He'll also make the most effort among the working cooks to watch over and check in on Mark by acknowledging his presence and engaging with him when the opportunity arises.
Zeff is Sanji's father, and it shows. His attitude toward Mark will be largely reticent and brusque, lukewarm at his coldest and quietly warm in how he'll ensure that Mark is fed and undisturbed in Sanji's old room. Should Mark make his initial landing in said room, Zeff will sense his presence and come up to coolly interrogate his intentions upon recognizing his face from the show. Once Mark relays Sanji's suggestion, Zeff will grouse about the latter's decision to drop off a guest on his own, then turn away and tell the former when dinner will be with the rest of the staff. For partaking of their food and occupying a space on the Baratie, Mark will be expected to do the dishes at the very least and, if willing, allowed to wait on customers. (If Mark ever decides to feed someone who's hungry, poor, and disagreeable enough that the cooks have turned against them, he'll have Zeff's blessing to do so.) Other than seeing to Mark's essential needs, Zeff will respect his privacy and only engage in deeper conversation if it's initiated by Mark himself. In reality, he's inwardly appreciated Mark's friendship with Sanji since watching the show. In a rare moment of transparency, he might gruffly comment on how it'll do Sanji good to have more company of his own age, seeing as a restaurant is no place for a snot-nosed brat. If Mark finds himself in need of anything, including candid conversations, Zeff will be the one to find. If he also ever expresses any awkwardness about using Sanji's room, Zeff will snort about how it's nice to live without cigarette smoke for once, because nobody else uses the way Sanji did.
While the cooks are endeared to Sanji, none of them will ask Mark to convey anything to him. They're living their lives and expect that Sanji will do the same. In terms of the present and future, they'll show more interest in Mark as a person and even ask after Josuke and other friends from the show. Clumsy and foul-mouthed as they are, the cooks ultimately mean well and won't alienate Mark by pulling punches around him, especially once he begins helping out in a working capacity. If everyone gets yelled at and roughhoused, so does Mark. 👊🏻
Last but not least, the Baratie is littered with Sanji's wanted posters. They're hideous and all the cooks get a good laugh out of seeing them every day, joking that it's a spitting image of their sous-chef. Isn't it, Mark? Nod and hum in the affirmative. They hand out a poster to every customer who's willing to take it, and they'll expect Mark to do the same once he starts to wait tables. "This is the Baratie, the home of Black-Leg Sanji!" If Mark becomes curious, one of the cooks will regale him with the tale of how Sanji's crew stormed the judicial island known for executing criminals in order to retrieve a crewmate, culminating in the lobby's destruction after the government blasted the hell out of it. The crew effectively declared war on the entire world for a single woman who's been accused of wanting to destroy it for years. Mark will encounter the occasional lady customer who'll ask if Sanji is around in the hopes of getting a free meal or snack, leaving him to break the unfortunate(?) news that Sanji is that pirate on the poster and won't be coming back for a while.
Nobody will gaslight Mark here. I refuse to let that happen.
[A year later, the phone slips from Sanji's pocket as he goes skidding across the ground and then crashing into the fortress behind him. With everyone's attention drawn to the scene of violence, nobody notices the device and it lies there, forgotten, until Reiju scoops it up a while later.
She turns the unfamiliar piece of technology around in her hands before pocketing it. It's Sanji's, she knows. Whatever it is, she'll return it to him later.
Night falls and morning comes. The family breaks fast at the throne room, and the chance to pass anything under the table without their brothers noticing escapes her. It's by sheer chance that she moves just so in her own chamber soon after, miraculously dialing a frequent contact of Sanji's . . . Naturally, she won't be answering back once the call picks up.]
[ A year later, and Mark, beaten to hell and back, has had some changes of heart. One particularly prominent change of heart, new and unexplored and not yet expressed to anyone, left to be an agitated feeling churning in his gut.
The good news: he's healed for the most part. Maybe still a little sore, but the casts are off, the black eye long gone. Physically, he's fine. Emotionally, mentally, he's disquieted, but he knows he's right. He knows now that he's right—
He gets an unexpected phone call. Answers it. Gets zero response. And considering everything he's just been through, Mark immediately assumes the worst.
Fuck it. Fuck it, there are plenty of other superheroes still around, and his dad is probably on the way back from somewhere in deep space where he'd conveniently not been around so Mark could get his bones shattered, and Mark's face is kind of a problem these days anyway. Fuck it, this is probably life and death where one of his best friends is concerned and everything sucks here right now anyway, so he can toss some clothes and toiletries in a backpack (learning from last time), don his suit, and just go.
So he appears, right there in Reiju's chamber, masked up and floating in the air with fists balled tight, looking around. ]
Sanji?! Sanji, what's wro—
[ Spots Reiju, who is probably appearing very non-threatening, and lowers his hands. Not his body, he's just going to keep floating there, but at least the rest of Mark's posture slackens, aggressive voice fading into confusion. ]
Um.
[ She looks vaguely familiar, but he can't place it. ]
[She's in the middle of studying her reflection in the tri-fold mirror of her vanity when a mysterious man appears. While her body tenses, her expression is placid with the slight upward curl of her lips as she cranes her neck toward the masked stranger. From where did he come?
There's a lot of flying these days. It's ironic, really.]
Sanji is somewhere else in the castle.
[Sulking, probably. All the fight left him the second their father pulled out his trump card, and now he must be wandering the halls for the lack of anything better to do. It's a wonder to Reiju why he's suddenly clammed up after spitting righteous vitriol at their blood with such bravado. He should've run the second he was summoned back to this place . . . yet he didn't.
She shifts on her chair to turn in the stranger's direction. Her personal chamber is quite large, albeit spacious in that there isn't much in the way of furnishing. What's there—the vanity, the bed, the circular chairs and table, and essentials of that nature—is undeniably expensive, but the walls are almost empty aside from the sconces mounted on them.]
[ The first thing Mark notices, class-conscious as he is not, is how much open space there is here. Everything looks nice, but empty, like it isn't really lived in. For a guy who buys collectibles and fills his space with nonsense that sparks joy, this place looks kind of... sad? It feels kind of sad.
He isn't so rude as to keep looking around when a person is talking to him, though. When Reiju shifts his gaze connects with hers, even if his own is hidden behind dark goggles. She looks familiar. It isn't just the eyebrow, she looks—
the castle.
Mark swallows. ]
Yeah. [ His voice is small, uncertain. Not in his answer, just in worry for what he thinks could be coming Sanji's away. ] Did you call me to help him? Because I'm ready to do that. Right now.
[ Let's go, his body may be saying as it tenses. He's ready. Why aren't they going right now? ]
[Reiju dips her head at the question. Her right hand reaches back around herself, where she feels for the strange device she'd picked up. Pulling it out and holding it in front of her, she inspects the blank screen.
Is this what did it? She didn't call anyone. He doesn't seem aware of what's going on, either. In that case, she can't have him wandering off, much less without a clue as to the circumstances.
Leaning back, she folds her arms in front of her.]
The two of you must be close if you've come this far. But I'm sorry to say that it wasn't my intention to call on you.
[ There's an anxious energy to him as his gaze immediately goes to the phone, head movement betraying what his goggles continue to hide. So she has that. And not Sanji. Because something must be wrong, why is she acting so nonchalant, can they just go—
It wasn't her intention, and he huffs, agitated. ]
You buttdialed me, didn't you? [ Mark's voice is incredulous, but he shakes it off with a literal shake of his head. ] But you have his phone and he doesn't, so something must be wrong, right? He still needs help. Right?
[ Right? There's an edge creeping into his voice, like it'd be really nice if she told him exactly what he wants to hear right about now. ]
["Buttdialed"? She glances at the device in her grasp. So it's called a phone. It's probably like a transponder snail, though the exact nature of its communicative capacity eludes her.
And the stranger is getting antsier by the second. If the two are really as close as this implies, it's no wonder.
He just happened to drop it. I've been meaning to return it, but there's no need to rush. After all, this is his home.
[Why should he need help in his home? . . . is what she implies without saying it aloud, because there's no truth in those words.]
[ He knows just enough to know there's no truth in those last words of hers. Mark takes a deep breath to steady himself, because as far as he knows right now, she isn't the enemy.
But she might be, if she keeps being calm and simultaneously cagey like this. But he's— He still has standards. Just because some people need to die doesn't mean he needs to make that judgment call immediately. So. Deep breath. Calm voice, but with that underlying tension. ]
Sanji wants to act like this place doesn't exist. So if he's here he needs help, because I don't think there's any situation in which he'd actually want to be here.
[His argument gives her pause. It's still hard to tell where he fits in the puzzle, but he's right in that she's been wondering the same thing. Why is Sanji still here after such a harrowing departure 13 years ago? She told him never to come back. Ichiji was right on that front; they've never understood each other, and this complicates otherwise simple matters.
Does this masked stranger understand? If what he says is true, her brother's silence is all the more concerning and perplexing.]
It was Sanji's choice to stay here. If you interfere, he won't be happy.
[She plants her heeled feet on the floor and stands, holding the phone up.]
If you don't believe me, you can ask him yourself while I return this.
[ Mark's brow furrows under his mask, first out of frustration — why is she still giving him a runaround — and then out of consideration. Because yeah, while he could see Sanji not being happy about Mark being here to help him, tough shit, right? He'd never thought it was a good idea to act like all of this from his childhood never happened, and now Mark's here anyway, so...
But then she stands, and Mark perks up, not even noticing the way the tension bleeds from his body, curled fists loosening at his sides. He tilts his head, analyzing her and her words both, before drifting downwards to set feet back on the ground. ]
Sounds good to me. Lead the way.
[ He can relax for the moment now that he knows they're going to be doing something. ]
For my little brother's sake, I'd like you to stay out of sight when it's not just you and me.
[Their father won't take kindly to potential kinks in his plans. This is the concession she's chosen to make, considering how tightly wound this particular visitor appears to be. It's evident from his body language alone that he wears his heart on his sleeves, which rarely goes over well in these parts.
No sooner than she takes two steps out of her chamber and into the equally austere corridor does company visit in the form of three men. Reiju's hand stills on the door to her room, strategically paused to keep the stranger inside and out of her brothers' view at the present angle.
"Oh, Reiju," says a deep voice that borders on smug. As always, Niji flashes her a toothy grin that compensates for the lack of visible eyes behind his goggles. "So this is where you've been."]
Were you expecting otherwise?
[Reiju's tone is clipped in response. Niji may be her brother, but there's little love between them, simply because he isn't capable of such a thing while she navigates around that lack for her selfish sense of self-preservation.
"We missed you at the reunion," replies Niji, not sounding regretful in the slightest.
"You should've been there." Yonji sounds perkier, if throaty. It suits his larger frame, being the biggest of the Vinsmoke sons. "Then it would've been a proper reunion."
Perhaps visible from Mark's limited vantage point, Reiju's eyes narrow faintly as to be nigh imperceptible.]
Reunion?
["It's been 13 years since we last saw Sanji," answers Ichiji. He must be in a good mood, judging by the quirk in his usually tightly set lips. His voice is a touch higher than the rest, yet equally as more detached. "Naturally, we took the time to remind him of the order of things."
The suggestion isn't lost on Reiju, who remains the picture of apathy despite the tightness in her chest. As far as her brothers know, Sanji isn't even worth the dirt on her heels. Rather, what matters most is . . . ]
Father will be displeased if you've marred his face.
["He may be a pirate, but he's still the same failure from before. If that hasn't turned the bride's family away, a bruised face will change nothing," says Niji as three sets of footfalls sound. The brothers have tired of explaining themselves to their frigid sister, and they're no doubt off to celebrate among themselves in one of their rooms. "See you later."
Reiju waits until their collective presence has faded before lowering her hand from the door, where she'd been keeping it to discourage the masked visitor from exiting. What rotten luck.]
Mark hesitates as things start to click together, just why this woman looks so familiar, and it isn't just that outright stated familial relationship to Sanji. He remembers a little girl telling a little boy to run, to never come back, and—
And before he can think further, move further, they're interrupted. It's a good thing Mark saw that memory after all, because knowing that despite her cold exterior she does care about Sanji — or at the very least, did — he's much more willing to not make a fuss. He stops where he is, not moving, hardly breathing as he listens in on everything.
There is a surge of anger leaping to the forefront, teeth bared, nostrils flaring as they talk about this reunion. So it's a good thing he's here after all, he decides, and he isn't going to let Sanji tell him otherwise. His fists clench again, shoulders tensing, but Sanji's sister was clearly not a part of this, and from his vantage point he can hazard a guess she doesn't approve. The others — brothers? — sound like they've had a good time compared to her dismissiveness, and Mark kind of wants to punch a hole in each of them.
Won't. (Yet?) The talk of a bride is another alarm bell on its own, because as far as he knows Sanji and Asa haven't broken up, and for as weird as Asa could be, he doubts she was a part of this. Something is very, very wrong here, and for as much as he'd like to burst his way through every part of this castle until he finds Sanji and removes him from the situation, he has enough sense to recognize that if the people here have some way of neutralizing him, then Sanji probably isn't getting any help whatsoever.
Which means he's going to have to play it smart.
... Which means Mark is going to have to listen to Sanji's sister. By the time she's lowered her hand from the door the open anger on his features has been sharpened into a cold determination. He brings his own hand up to push the door open a little further, allowing him to see more of the mostly-vacated hallway, and stares directly at her. ]
So we're getting him out of here, right? [ Judging by the tone of his voice, it's not a question — but after a beat he softens. ] I know you helped him escape once before. I just need to know if you're still that person.
[ As long as she is, he'll follow her lead. If she isn't... Well, maybe his own element of surprise will keep any consequences of his impulsiveness at bay. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Amid the everything, something someone said to him once comes to mind: If anyone tries to deny her the right to live, I'll become the demon of the Blue Sea and kill them.
Or something like that.
He's going to toss and turn on it for a moment longer before figuring, fuck it. Fuck it, maybe what he needs right now is someone who already knows what to do with those kinds of feelings. He hopes Sanji hasn't actually had to live it out, but—
If Mark was thinking clearer he'd have probably sent a text or something. As it stands, nope, he's straight up giving Sanji a call, pacing back and forth as he waits for him to pick up, agitated and terrified and stressed out of his mind all at once. ]
no subject
Multiple sets of eyes snap toward him in an instant. Sanji shoots up, whirls around, and breaks into a sprint, all while the phone continues blasting at what feels like a deafening volume without the slightest care for his plight. Drawn by the noise, more pursuers pop up around the vicinity, forcing Sanji to veer toward the beach as he fishes out the phone.
In his haste to get the thing to shut up, he barely registers the name on the screen before all but shouting into the mic:] Huh?!
no subject
Okay. Okay, no, he's back in reality now. A reality where other people might have their own problems; where they might not just be standing in their bedroom with the most serious thing to have ever happened to anyone ever hanging over them, needing someone to talk to.
... But he's already called Sanji is the thing here, so. Okay. Okay, ]
Sanji— Hi, sorry. [ A beat, having the grace to go from sounding upset to mildly embarrassed as he continues. ] Shit, is this a bad time?
no subject
Frazzled as he is, Sanji's senses are wholly alert that he clocks the upset in Mark's tone. There's not going to be a good time for yet another year from now, so he keeps the phone up to his ear while parrying an incoming kick with one of his own.]
What is it?!
[Mark can probably hear the high-pitched yet masculine battle cries in the background as more pursuers converge around Sanji, who's on the verge of screaming, because he's in the middle of an important conversation.]
no subject
So, instead, urgency flooding his own tone: ] Do you need help? Should I come over??
[ Nevermind that he'd probably end up in Sanji's world for a while if he did; this seems a lot more pressing? And after his wish, things are... better, here. Maybe not necessarily great, considering recent events, but good enough that he can afford to go flying off elsewhere on a whim if it means helping someone else. Which he is about two seconds away from doing, regardless of what Sanji actually says, unless he hears pure calm coming from his end of the line. ]
no subject
[The word punches out of him, punctuated with a kick to knock aside his next opponent. No, he does not need help. Unintelligible words trickle over to Mark's side, followed by Sanji's booming shout at the crowd:] Back off—this call isn't for you!
[His exasperation is met with a chorus of teasing tones. The okama proceed to pelt him with needless questions about his conversation partner, all while still launching themselves at him. One of them gives a bizarre bodily wiggle and asks in a loud voice, "Is it Josuke?" to which Sanji sputters.]
Shut up!
[A series of odd scraping and thudding sounds fill Mark's audio feed as Sanji drops onto his hands and delivers spinning kicks to create a wide berth around him. Then he flip onto his feet and leaps into the sky, running like he's on fire toward the sun. Wind whips around the phone, which he raises to his ear again.]
Hey, Mark! What are you calling for?
no subject
(And was that Josuke's name he heard?? Huh??)
He listens to the teasing, the loud voices, Sanji's exasperation, the sounds of what might be fighting?? And that's it, there's only so much of this he can impotently take. He's already pulling his costume on, because it feels right to have it for this, mind made up. ]
Hold on — I'm coming over.
[ Because it really, really sounds like he needs help. Mark just wanted someone to talk to, but maybe getting to punch some guys to help a friend is better than talking, actually.
And before Sanji can so much as object the call is dropped, Mark's phone snapping shut — and there he is, right in the sky with Sanji, full superhero regalia on and everything—
Wait, Sanji isn't falling. Sanji isn't falling! He can't help but grin at him, not entirely sure where the threat is coming from, but happy to just bask in this moment first. ]
Sanji! I, uh... [ okay maybe this is a little awkward now, actually. ] I did want to talk, but it sounded like you needed help...
[ looking around for the threat like. Did he need help?? ]
no subject
Sanji hops in place, casually alternating one foot with the other to stay airborne, as he whips his head in the direction of the costumed stranger. The tension in his shoulders and legs drains away, and the anxiety of having to deal with the mess below in the sky dissipates once he recognizes Mark's voice.]
Didn't I tell you that I don't? [All the same, Sanji's tone is resigned now that Mark is here.] I was in the middle of training.
[This seems important to point out when he looks worse for wear compared to his tidy appearance back at the house. His clothes are crumpled with a few tears here and there; sand clings to the suit fabric in patches while his face sports old scratches on his cheeks, a split lip, and a trail of dried blood stemming from one temple. He can't have Mark getting the wrong idea and fighting battles designed for his own gain.
Said threats—men of impressive physique and size, all dressed in drag—clamor below them from the shore of a vibrant island. Actually, it sounds like they're squealing, their quest to corner Sanji momentarily forgotten in the buzzing excitement of a new male presence. Sanji ignores them in favor of putting away his damned phone, procuring a pack of cigarettes (branded Death) from his pocket, and lighting a stick now that he no longer has to hide.]
But it's about time for a break, so I'll hear you out.
no subject
Mark at least has the decency to pull his mask off as he takes in Sanji's appearance; the tears on his clothes, the blood on his face. Is that from training or an actual fight... He looks down at the shore below them, the... colourful cast of characters there. Is this the world Sanji lives in... what kind of training is this...
He's a little lost in his head, just kind of. Staring. For the moment. But as long as they're in the air it doesn't seem like a threat, which brings up a whole other thing, since the last time Sanji was in the air he was perched on Mark's shoulders, and—
Looking back up at Sanji again when he speaks. Catches the label on the cigarette pack which, uh. And for the moment, his own problems seem far away (quite possibly because they literally are, now that he's in another world entirely). ]
I didn't know you were training— [ IS that what this is. peering down at the men below them again— ] Wait, I didn't know you could fly?
[ Gesturing at Sanji's feet, the little hopping motions while Mark is just hovering there, not moving otherwise. When he looks back up at Sanji he's beaming though, clearly not at all bothered by this development. ]
When did this happen?
no subject
When I was cornered, the only way left was up . . . so I ran toward the sky, and this is the result.
[He can walk on air. The speed and duration of his artificial flight are restricted by his bodily limits, but he's been improving those in . . . training. Yeah.
Sanji snaps back to attention, eyeing Mark, who's bared his face. Well, he supposes there's no harm in showing it here of all places—and so high up, too. But he'd rather lose the crowd for the conversation they're bound to have, so he begins trekking inland, still airbone, to move out of sight.]
no subject
As Sanji starts moving inland Mark follows along, his own body going horizontal to move alongside him. Two completely different methods of flying — he'd have never guessed it, but also, there really is something nice about being able to hang out with a friend like this. It never gets old. ]
That... really sounds like you, actually. [ Sanji just... running towards the sky. ] Now you've got a way to always be free.
[ He's really clung to that, even as his world views have had to expand, bit by bit. Sanji, so openly a pirate, but so he can stay free. Especially after he saw the cell— He isn't going to be so crass as to bring it up, just that the need for freedom is his anchor for knowing that Sanji is a good guy. Deserves to have good things, like his own determination and spirit granting him the ability to be up here. It keeps Mark's voice warm, keeps him from spiralling out in his own head again.
He looks down at all of the men they're passing by; back up towards the rest of this very pink island; back to Sanji. ]
Where are we going?
no subject
Away from those guys. There's over a hundred of them scattered across the island, and they never agreed to stop for anything. As long as we stay out of sight, they won't bother us. Then we can talk about why you're here.
[As soon as he goes through this cigarette and gets rid of his trail.
They're going to have a grand time looking for someplace that'll camouflage Mark's blues and yellows. Under a canopy might have to do the trick. Finding someplace quiet is important, because the guy is ridiculously earnest, talking about freedom like that; he can't have called for nothing.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Baratie feat. Mark
The Baratie is somewhat renowned for its ocean-going status and the rough temperament of its staff. While its overall ambience is typical of a high-quality restaurant, the cooks often get into scuffles with unruly customers and pirates who seek to loot the establishment. The cooks utilize a combination of firearms and oversized cutlery in a fight with the exception of Zeff, the head chef under whom Sanji apprenticed in the culinary and martial arts.
Zeff is a kicker who can crush bedrock and stop bullets mid trajectory with his peg leg alone. Mark will probably see a resemblance between Zeff and Sanji in their gruff mannerisms, though the former is much rougher in the kitchen as he teaches his cooks by striking out with his leg. Casual violence notwithstanding, the cooks unanimously respect Zeff for taking them in after being rejected by other establishments for their brutish natures. To Mark, they'll speak highly of Zeff and recount how he and Sanji founded the restaurant nine years ago. If asked, they'll describe the two's relationship as cantankerous, but close. Carne might go as far as to explain that Zeff, a former pirate once known as Red Leg for his bloodstained feet, gave up piracy after eating his leg when Sanji was a boy to prevent the latter from starving to death. Consequently, there's an unwritten rule on the Baratie that food must never be wasted.
A culinary master in his own right, Zeff's style is reminiscent of Sanji's, who's much more experimental with his dishes. The staff eat what they've made during breaks, and Zeff's food is always top-notch when he gets around to cooking. Mark will be invited to eat with the cooks and probably answer questions about how Sanji is doing: Word is that Sanji's crew was annihilated at the halfway point of their voyage after an ugly run-in with the government, but the cooks all believed he was okay once his captain showed up on the news later.
Said captain once worked as a chore boy for the Baratie after blasting a hole in the roof and hurting Zeff on accident. The debt was forgiven after Luffy thwarted a pirate attack, and he left with Sanji shortly thereafter.
For the most part, the cooks will be affable to Mark, whom they know as a friend of Sanji's from some dating show where he made off with a cute girl. They'll occasionally ask about Asa and have a hoot about how Sanji might finally stop costing the Baratie once he returns, because he had a bad habit of serving women for free. They'll also express an interest in getting to know Mark without being too intrusive, ranging from basic questions about himself to his interests and his plans for the near future. Many of the cooks are much older than Sanji and Mark, so their treatment of him might be akin to that of a distant nephew. They'll definitely make a comment here and there about how Mark has a much nicer temperament next to Sanji's legendarily ugly temper, pointing to how often he and Patty in particular would get into arguments.
Patty is perhaps the closest to Mark's age at the prime age of 27. Boisterous and passionate, his belief that the "customer is king" is ironically hindered by his backhanded formalities of calling the clientele suckers and squid-face. He'll be the most likely to tease Sanji when talking to Mark, grousing about Sanji's lousy customer service while acknowledging that Sanji was the softest of them, because he would always feed the penniless who couldn't pay behind Patty's back. Patty is headstrong, making him the most opinionated and brashest cook of the bunch.
Carne is another prominent cook who's older and more level-headed by comparison. He has a broader knowledge of current events and will be Mark's go-to source for information on the world and stories pertaining to the Baratie. At one point, he might recall how the cooks used to regard Sanji with suspicion, believing that he just wanted to take over the Baratie without realizing how deep his bond with Zeff runs. Carne is the most likely to impress that Zeff is a father figure to them, but to Sanji most of all. He'll also make the most effort among the working cooks to watch over and check in on Mark by acknowledging his presence and engaging with him when the opportunity arises.
Zeff is Sanji's father, and it shows. His attitude toward Mark will be largely reticent and brusque, lukewarm at his coldest and quietly warm in how he'll ensure that Mark is fed and undisturbed in Sanji's old room. Should Mark make his initial landing in said room, Zeff will sense his presence and come up to coolly interrogate his intentions upon recognizing his face from the show. Once Mark relays Sanji's suggestion, Zeff will grouse about the latter's decision to drop off a guest on his own, then turn away and tell the former when dinner will be with the rest of the staff. For partaking of their food and occupying a space on the Baratie, Mark will be expected to do the dishes at the very least and, if willing, allowed to wait on customers. (If Mark ever decides to feed someone who's hungry, poor, and disagreeable enough that the cooks have turned against them, he'll have Zeff's blessing to do so.) Other than seeing to Mark's essential needs, Zeff will respect his privacy and only engage in deeper conversation if it's initiated by Mark himself. In reality, he's inwardly appreciated Mark's friendship with Sanji since watching the show. In a rare moment of transparency, he might gruffly comment on how it'll do Sanji good to have more company of his own age, seeing as a restaurant is no place for a snot-nosed brat. If Mark finds himself in need of anything, including candid conversations, Zeff will be the one to find. If he also ever expresses any awkwardness about using Sanji's room, Zeff will snort about how it's nice to live without cigarette smoke for once, because nobody else uses the way Sanji did.
While the cooks are endeared to Sanji, none of them will ask Mark to convey anything to him. They're living their lives and expect that Sanji will do the same. In terms of the present and future, they'll show more interest in Mark as a person and even ask after Josuke and other friends from the show. Clumsy and foul-mouthed as they are, the cooks ultimately mean well and won't alienate Mark by pulling punches around him, especially once he begins helping out in a working capacity. If everyone gets yelled at and roughhoused, so does Mark. 👊🏻
Last but not least, the Baratie is littered with Sanji's wanted posters. They're hideous and all the cooks get a good laugh out of seeing them every day, joking that it's a spitting image of their sous-chef. Isn't it, Mark? Nod and hum in the affirmative. They hand out a poster to every customer who's willing to take it, and they'll expect Mark to do the same once he starts to wait tables. "This is the Baratie, the home of Black-Leg Sanji!" If Mark becomes curious, one of the cooks will regale him with the tale of how Sanji's crew stormed the judicial island known for executing criminals in order to retrieve a crewmate, culminating in the lobby's destruction after the government blasted the hell out of it. The crew effectively declared war on the entire world for a single woman who's been accused of wanting to destroy it for years. Mark will encounter the occasional lady customer who'll ask if Sanji is around in the hopes of getting a free meal or snack, leaving him to break the unfortunate(?) news that Sanji is that pirate on the poster and won't be coming back for a while.
Nobody will gaslight Mark here. I refuse to let that happen.
no subject
She turns the unfamiliar piece of technology around in her hands before pocketing it. It's Sanji's, she knows. Whatever it is, she'll return it to him later.
Night falls and morning comes. The family breaks fast at the throne room, and the chance to pass anything under the table without their brothers noticing escapes her. It's by sheer chance that she moves just so in her own chamber soon after, miraculously dialing a frequent contact of Sanji's . . . Naturally, she won't be answering back once the call picks up.]
no subject
The good news: he's healed for the most part. Maybe still a little sore, but the casts are off, the black eye long gone. Physically, he's fine. Emotionally, mentally, he's disquieted, but he knows he's right. He knows now that he's right—
He gets an unexpected phone call. Answers it. Gets zero response. And considering everything he's just been through, Mark immediately assumes the worst.
Fuck it. Fuck it, there are plenty of other superheroes still around, and his dad is probably on the way back from somewhere in deep space where he'd conveniently not been around so Mark could get his bones shattered, and Mark's face is kind of a problem these days anyway. Fuck it, this is probably life and death where one of his best friends is concerned and everything sucks here right now anyway, so he can toss some clothes and toiletries in a backpack (learning from last time), don his suit, and just go.
So he appears, right there in Reiju's chamber, masked up and floating in the air with fists balled tight, looking around. ]
Sanji?! Sanji, what's wro—
[ Spots Reiju, who is probably appearing very non-threatening, and lowers his hands. Not his body, he's just going to keep floating there, but at least the rest of Mark's posture slackens, aggressive voice fading into confusion. ]
Um.
[ She looks vaguely familiar, but he can't place it. ]
... Where's Sanji?
no subject
There's a lot of flying these days. It's ironic, really.]
Sanji is somewhere else in the castle.
[Sulking, probably. All the fight left him the second their father pulled out his trump card, and now he must be wandering the halls for the lack of anything better to do. It's a wonder to Reiju why he's suddenly clammed up after spitting righteous vitriol at their blood with such bravado. He should've run the second he was summoned back to this place . . . yet he didn't.
She shifts on her chair to turn in the stranger's direction. Her personal chamber is quite large, albeit spacious in that there isn't much in the way of furnishing. What's there—the vanity, the bed, the circular chairs and table, and essentials of that nature—is undeniably expensive, but the walls are almost empty aside from the sconces mounted on them.]
Are you a friend of his?
no subject
He isn't so rude as to keep looking around when a person is talking to him, though. When Reiju shifts his gaze connects with hers, even if his own is hidden behind dark goggles. She looks familiar. It isn't just the eyebrow, she looks—
the castle.
Mark swallows. ]
Yeah. [ His voice is small, uncertain. Not in his answer, just in worry for what he thinks could be coming Sanji's away. ] Did you call me to help him? Because I'm ready to do that. Right now.
[ Let's go, his body may be saying as it tenses. He's ready. Why aren't they going right now? ]
no subject
Is this what did it? She didn't call anyone. He doesn't seem aware of what's going on, either. In that case, she can't have him wandering off, much less without a clue as to the circumstances.
Leaning back, she folds her arms in front of her.]
The two of you must be close if you've come this far. But I'm sorry to say that it wasn't my intention to call on you.
no subject
It wasn't her intention, and he huffs, agitated. ]
You buttdialed me, didn't you? [ Mark's voice is incredulous, but he shakes it off with a literal shake of his head. ] But you have his phone and he doesn't, so something must be wrong, right? He still needs help. Right?
[ Right? There's an edge creeping into his voice, like it'd be really nice if she told him exactly what he wants to hear right about now. ]
no subject
And the stranger is getting antsier by the second. If the two are really as close as this implies, it's no wonder.
He just happened to drop it. I've been meaning to return it, but there's no need to rush. After all, this is his home.
[Why should he need help in his home? . . . is what she implies without saying it aloud, because there's no truth in those words.]
no subject
But she might be, if she keeps being calm and simultaneously cagey like this. But he's— He still has standards. Just because some people need to die doesn't mean he needs to make that judgment call immediately. So. Deep breath. Calm voice, but with that underlying tension. ]
Sanji wants to act like this place doesn't exist. So if he's here he needs help, because I don't think there's any situation in which he'd actually want to be here.
[ A beat. ]
Are you going to help me help him or not?
no subject
Does this masked stranger understand? If what he says is true, her brother's silence is all the more concerning and perplexing.]
It was Sanji's choice to stay here. If you interfere, he won't be happy.
[She plants her heeled feet on the floor and stands, holding the phone up.]
If you don't believe me, you can ask him yourself while I return this.
no subject
But then she stands, and Mark perks up, not even noticing the way the tension bleeds from his body, curled fists loosening at his sides. He tilts his head, analyzing her and her words both, before drifting downwards to set feet back on the ground. ]
Sounds good to me. Lead the way.
[ He can relax for the moment now that he knows they're going to be doing something. ]
no subject
[Their father won't take kindly to potential kinks in his plans. This is the concession she's chosen to make, considering how tightly wound this particular visitor appears to be. It's evident from his body language alone that he wears his heart on his sleeves, which rarely goes over well in these parts.
No sooner than she takes two steps out of her chamber and into the equally austere corridor does company visit in the form of three men. Reiju's hand stills on the door to her room, strategically paused to keep the stranger inside and out of her brothers' view at the present angle.
"Oh, Reiju," says a deep voice that borders on smug. As always, Niji flashes her a toothy grin that compensates for the lack of visible eyes behind his goggles. "So this is where you've been."]
Were you expecting otherwise?
[Reiju's tone is clipped in response. Niji may be her brother, but there's little love between them, simply because he isn't capable of such a thing while she navigates around that lack for her selfish sense of self-preservation.
"We missed you at the reunion," replies Niji, not sounding regretful in the slightest.
"You should've been there." Yonji sounds perkier, if throaty. It suits his larger frame, being the biggest of the Vinsmoke sons. "Then it would've been a proper reunion."
Perhaps visible from Mark's limited vantage point, Reiju's eyes narrow faintly as to be nigh imperceptible.]
Reunion?
["It's been 13 years since we last saw Sanji," answers Ichiji. He must be in a good mood, judging by the quirk in his usually tightly set lips. His voice is a touch higher than the rest, yet equally as more detached. "Naturally, we took the time to remind him of the order of things."
The suggestion isn't lost on Reiju, who remains the picture of apathy despite the tightness in her chest. As far as her brothers know, Sanji isn't even worth the dirt on her heels. Rather, what matters most is . . . ]
Father will be displeased if you've marred his face.
["He may be a pirate, but he's still the same failure from before. If that hasn't turned the bride's family away, a bruised face will change nothing," says Niji as three sets of footfalls sound. The brothers have tired of explaining themselves to their frigid sister, and they're no doubt off to celebrate among themselves in one of their rooms. "See you later."
Reiju waits until their collective presence has faded before lowering her hand from the door, where she'd been keeping it to discourage the masked visitor from exiting. What rotten luck.]
no subject
Mark hesitates as things start to click together, just why this woman looks so familiar, and it isn't just that outright stated familial relationship to Sanji. He remembers a little girl telling a little boy to run, to never come back, and—
And before he can think further, move further, they're interrupted. It's a good thing Mark saw that memory after all, because knowing that despite her cold exterior she does care about Sanji — or at the very least, did — he's much more willing to not make a fuss. He stops where he is, not moving, hardly breathing as he listens in on everything.
There is a surge of anger leaping to the forefront, teeth bared, nostrils flaring as they talk about this reunion. So it's a good thing he's here after all, he decides, and he isn't going to let Sanji tell him otherwise. His fists clench again, shoulders tensing, but Sanji's sister was clearly not a part of this, and from his vantage point he can hazard a guess she doesn't approve. The others — brothers? — sound like they've had a good time compared to her dismissiveness, and Mark kind of wants to punch a hole in each of them.
Won't. (Yet?) The talk of a bride is another alarm bell on its own, because as far as he knows Sanji and Asa haven't broken up, and for as weird as Asa could be, he doubts she was a part of this. Something is very, very wrong here, and for as much as he'd like to burst his way through every part of this castle until he finds Sanji and removes him from the situation, he has enough sense to recognize that if the people here have some way of neutralizing him, then Sanji probably isn't getting any help whatsoever.
Which means he's going to have to play it smart.
... Which means Mark is going to have to listen to Sanji's sister. By the time she's lowered her hand from the door the open anger on his features has been sharpened into a cold determination. He brings his own hand up to push the door open a little further, allowing him to see more of the mostly-vacated hallway, and stares directly at her. ]
So we're getting him out of here, right? [ Judging by the tone of his voice, it's not a question — but after a beat he softens. ] I know you helped him escape once before. I just need to know if you're still that person.
[ As long as she is, he'll follow her lead. If she isn't... Well, maybe his own element of surprise will keep any consequences of his impulsiveness at bay. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
🤡 last long tag?
scoops up my jae longtags
/greedily slurps my ari tags
not my sweet reiju being forgotten... cruel
she'd like to peace out but alas
:(
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
/slides back in
sweet reiju
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
this canon point was a mistake for brevity aaAAH
huSH you're great with it
😭 merci beaucoup
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)