[Studying the result between the rocks, he nods to himself and deftly slices the duck next, the meat of which he soon has cooking over the fire. Then he looks at Mark, whose attempt at a smile he doesn't return, with an appraising gaze.
Sanji imagines it: Mark, standing over a battered corpse in the middle of nowhere, hands stained irrevocably with blood and restless from the remnants of adrenaline. No glory or relief, just guilt and horror in deafening silence. It would take somewhere as far as another dimension to strand someone like him. A part of him is probably still back there. In another life, Sanji might have been in a similar position—only, he wouldn't have been so scrupulous or kind, deranged as he'd been.]
Most people only learn the true value of something once they've lost it. Food, people, even freedom and sanity . . . There's a lot we take for granted. Once we realize that, everything feels different.
[One learns to be grateful. At the same time, that's when the shame starts to weigh on one's shoulders. Sanji holds a hand out, eyes falling on the block in Mark's grasp and then back up to the latter's face. Seeing Mark like this, that weight will never alleviate in full . . . but Sanji can at least make sure he's fed and strong enough to stand just a little straighter.]
[ Sometimes, when he shuts his eyes, it really is nothing more than a desolate wasteland and blood on his hands. He's wondering when that's going to go away, but... everything feels different. There are things now that he's hyper aware of — what it feels like to have something staining your skin, the deafening sound of silence with only his own voice and maybe the wind to break it, the weight of another's life on his shoulders—
He catches the movement of Sanji's hand in his periphery vision. Looks back up. Takes it, assuming it's for him, to stand back up, block still in his other hand. ]
... Yeah. Shit, I shouldn't even— I mean, freedom—
[ Mark doesn't know what it is to lose that. Does know what it is for Sanji to have it, and he feels really selfish for a second there. There really is only so much he can impose...
He inhales, taking in the scent of duck cooking, normal and good. Maybe he's not used to it out in the wilderness like this, but it's the principle of the matter — real food being prepared by a close friend. ]
I guess on the bright side, it lets you appreciate it more when you've got it back. [ When, not if. Because Mark got out of a dead wasteland, got the comforts of life back. His innocence and sense of right and wrong may be shattered, but he can pick up the pieces, so it'll be fine. It'll be fine. He nods at Sanji, a little too forceful of a movement to be directed solely at him. ] I mean... I'm never going to forget this.
[ The scent, the kindness behind creating it, the friendship behind that... He'll cling to it with all he has if he has to.
A beat. ]
Anything I can do to help?
[ Even if he caught the food... the urge to do something, to not be useless, is creeping back in again. It's a lot easier to be inside your own head when you also have other things to look at. ]
[His lips part as he squints at Mark's misunderstanding of his gesture. The guy is seriously tactile. What's more, Sanji has the sneaking suspicion that Mark has also misconstrued what he meant by freedom, because it's not something purely physical. The freedom of expression—to allow one to be oneself, to feel without restraint and fear—is equally important.
Sanji is lucky. He's more than likely contributed to his share of irreversible damage against his foes, but he's yet to cross the line of his principles. Mark's lost that innocence, and he can cope with it . . . but that's never going to come back. Some horrors will never go away. At least he's got the right idea of hanging onto the good.
For Mark's sake, Sanji stands up, making use of their joined hands without the awkwardness of just dropping them. He does pull back afterward to extend that same hand again, palm upturned as he gives it a languid shake, his expression tame and casual.]
For starters, you can hand me that block, so I can finish carving out a spoon. We may be outside, but it's bad manners to eat with your bare hands.
[ Mark doesn't get to be free of restraint. He knows this all too well now. Freedom is... being able to go up into the sky, drift among the clouds, experience something limitless; it's being able to do what you want, with no external forces holding you back. No bars, no cages. Just you.
(He needs to learn to hold himself back, no matter what. He can't go there again.)
Mark smiles, small and grateful, at that languid shake. It's all good. He'll be good— ]
Oh.
[ He's an idiot. Small laugh, as he relinquishes the block to Sanji's far more capable hands. Right. Right, ]
[Sanji easily takes the block and, just to make things a little less awkward for Mark, goes back to whittling away at the wood while standing. He'll sit down in a minute.]
Not this particular dish. Just because there's a stream we can wash our hands nearby, doesn't mean we have to be brutes.
[His tone is casual. A reasonable, civilized person would eat with utensils; sometimes, it's as simple as that.]
[ Brutes... for eating with their hands... much to think about. Especially since utensils definitely were not on his mind before. Maybe they would be if he'd been out here as long as Sanji...
He could ask about that, sitting back down when he does. Or, ]
What about a spork? I don't know if that'd be any better, or easier to carve, or... whatever, but maybe it would help, even if the prongs aren't that much?
[He cants his head to the side, appraising the spoon that's slowly taking shape in his grasp.]
It'll take a little longer, but we can give it a shot. [He shoots Mark a sidelong glance.] Not bad.
[At least he can trust Mark not to choke from shoveling food down his throat with his bare hands. That's a small mercy he always appreciates in people.]
[ Hey, when you have big feelings but at the moment they're fragile, raw, and unmoored, a little goes a long way. He'll take every little bit he can get and hold onto it, tight.
Sanji's answer does earn a blink, though. A curious little tilt of his head, but no movement otherwise. It's just nice to be with good company. ]
My mom'd like you. [ It just slides out, his smile relaxing. Really, most of the people on the show she'd probably like, or at least tolerate, but Sanji would be way up there on her list, he's pretty sure. ] I mean, it's not like I don't have table manners, but... yeah, if I'm lazy enough, I'd just use my hands.
[ And being stranded on an island feels like a good time to be lazy in at least that particular avenue of life? Sanji's so much more put together. So proper. Debbie wouldn't even bat an eye at the whole pirate thing. ]
[He gives Mark a look, because admitting to brutish convenience is a betrayal within the context of this topic. It's nothing so serious, though, and he pulls back to carve out the spork some more.
Most people don't know the character it demonstrates to like a pirate openly. Pirates have a sour reputation for a reason, but they're often demonized and accused of crimes that aren't theirs. For a public figure, it's also best not to be associated with them. Sanji never doubted the character of Mark's mother, but the certainty with which Mark speaks of her says so much more than he probably realizes.]
Don't embarrass your mom. [This is said in jest, but also:] If I catch you using your hands on anything that isn't finger food here, you're getting it.
[He can put up with friends being guys, but if it makes a fool out of Mark's sweet mother? No.]
Okay, okay! No hands, I promise. [ His grin is easy, in a good mood, relaxing into the moment. Everything's alright here. Things are good right now. ] That especially goes for when I'm at the Baratie. I won't embarrass her, but I'm not gonna embarrass you either.
[ Especially since his mom isn't here to suffer any embarrassment. Sanji, on the other hand... and when he'll be aboard a restaurant, at that...
Although he'll probably end up finding some other way to inadvertently embarrass Sanji, but at least it shouldn't be food-related. Probably. ]
Don't worry about the restaurant. If anyone's an embarrassment, it's those guys.
[Patty, most of all. Little does Sanji know, his hideous wanted poster is plastered all over the walls of the Baratie. If it's between Mark and the cooks at the restaurant, however, there's no contest as to who the bigger clowns are.]
The only rule there is that nobody goes hungry. The cooks get into fights with pirates often enough that all the waiters jumped ship at one point, but everyone gets to eat. Don't kick anybody out, and you won't have trouble with the owner.
[This seems worth pointing out, because Mark is a conscientious guy who might find it difficult to sit back when there's a scuffle. Best to nip the potential crisis over restraining himself versus protecting someone before it can have the chance to form. The cooks can and have been taking care of the establishment for years now.]
[ Mark might even feel obliged to take down the wanted posters whenever he sees them. Something will click in his brain and he'll understand that first meeting of theirs.
In the meantime, though, he pauses. ]
So... don't do anything stupid. [ Like capitalize on his need to play the hero, which even he isn't entirely sure about these days. Mark stares at his boots for a second. Back up at Sanji. ] Got it.
[He'll take them down, only for new ones to crop up in within the hour. Sanji's restaurant family is nothing if not dedicated.
In any case, warning Mark ahead of time seems to have been the right choice. Still, isn't he being a little too hard on himself? Sanji's gaze lingers on him for a moment before he finishes up the spork by carving in the tines.]
If anything, you'll be helping those guys out. Don't be afraid to let Patty know when his food tastes like slop.
[It's really not that bad. In fact, Patty is a great patissier; he and Sanji have long traded insults, however, and that's not going to change anytime soon on either end. It's also a fact that Zeff, the owner, is by far the best chef on the ship, as well as the progenitor of most of Sanji's cooking techniques, so his dishes will be more familiar and luxurious.
The Baratie hosts a rowdy bunch of society's misfits, but they mean well. Mark will be in good hands, or Sanji will give them a thrashing upon his return.
Finally finished, Sanji holds out the spork to Mark. It's a touch crude, yet serviceable. As soon as that's out of his hands, he leans forward to fetch the cooked meat from the makeshift grill, which he deftly plates with some greens he'd foraged earlier on slab of stone that he then sets down in front of them.]
[ Then he'll take the new ones down too?? Eventually he'll probably give up by TBD how long that takes...
Food tasting like slop, though... Mark opens his mouth like he's about to protest, he wouldn't just? Say that?? But then here's a spork, made far better than he could ever manage, and then there's duck, also plated far better than he ever could. Let alone the fact that they're on an island, with none of the familiar comforts of modernity, and Mark's just gotta stare for a minute.
Inhale, and oh, god. ]
It smells amazing. [ Piercing a slice to rip it away from the rest and popping it in his mouth, and Mark tips his head back, shutting his eyes as he makes a blissed out little noise. For a moment, all of his problems can fall away. Being a murderer, being in a world he doesn't know, having to leave his friend behind for a time while here... none of it matters in the present moment.
Chews. Swallows. Looks back to Sanji, grinning wide. ] God. This is so... good.
[ Understatement? He's going for another piece already. ]
Momorio duck tag... [ mispronounces the first, already forgot how the rest of the last word went. Either way. ] Is this one of the recipes you learned here?
[Mark can just say that. He's allowed—just as he's given a pass for the mispronunciation, because this is a cursed island to Sanji, who uses leftover slivers of the wood as a pair of makeshift chopsticks to help himself to the meat, for so many reasons.]
Nah, it's something I made early on in the challenge. I hadn't eaten in a day, and the kitchen was guarded . . . so I experimented with what was around me.
[Imagining that he was making food for Asa gave him the second wind he needed to overcome hunger and fatigue. If nothing else, his imagination (read: delusion) is his most powerful weapon. Mark's expression, on the other hand, is a very real balm to Sanji's soul as he grins around his morsel.]
Come to think of it, I also made zeppoline and acqua pazza with the duck fat back then. I didn't prepare them this time, because we're in a hurry, but I can ready a full course meal when you're back. It's important to eat a balanced meal that's rich in nutrients.
You hadn't eaten in a day... a full course meal... You're amazing, you know that?
[ He's taking in everything Sanji is saying bit by bit, letting the meaning of his words actually pierce his brain amid each flavourful bite. As soon as he says it Mark is pretty sure he's complimented Sanji in that fashion before, but why not really drive the point home? Especially when Sanji is smiling like that. ]
Yeah, I can see how this would be better than just eating a bunch of candy and calling it a day. [ This Mark has had an actual chance at maintaining university life before his current breakdown, he's almost certainly done this more than once.
He goes for another bite, but first, ] I'm sure I'll be fine while I'm here, but... mmmm.
[ Give him a second again. ]
I know you cooked a lot for us back at the house, but I wish I could share this with even more people. [ His mom chief on his mind, of course; even if the whole Omni-Man thing has been largely smoothed over thanks to his wish, Mark still remembers a different version of her, like. Crying sometimes. The desire to do nice things for her isn't going to go away. ] Your crew is going to be in the best position when you're all done here.
[Candy? Mark had better not pick up Josuke's sweet tooth and start having ice cream for breakfast. They need to think about their bodies more. It doesn't matter how strong one of them is; nourishment makes all the difference in performance!
Sanji nods as he partakes of the dish. Providing the best for his crew, who deserve nothing less than amazing, is a given; however, his mind is still on what Mark said before that.]
Yeah? Who do you have in mind?
[He's easy. If there's a beautiful lady Mark is hiding somewhere back home, Sanji will cook up a storm for her. If it's a man . . . Well, he'll feed him, too, so long as the guy's willing to eat.]
[ Ice cream for breakfast is so good though. Imagine the two of them spending a lazy day in together. This is how we get Sanji to root for the breakup.
Back in the actual moment, Mark pauses mid-bite at the question before swallowing, having to give voice to his internal thoughts now. ]
My mom. I just think that after everything she's been through...
[ Deep breath, any worry lines in his brow smoothing out. ]
I mean, my dad's fine now. It's like the worst of it never happened. But her arm still got broken pretty bad, and I just remember— I've made dinner a couple of times, but I feel like, I dunno, she just deserves better. You know?
[ Also, it's fine. He's pretty confident Sanji isn't going to be weird about his mom or anything. ]
More importantly, it is a lady. Sanji has questions about exactly what Mark means by "like the worst of it never happened" with his father, to say nothing of the familiar self-effacement rearing its ugly head again, but he finds himself simply watching him instead.]
It's food from you. How much better do you think she can have?
[He does know. Objectively speaking, he can cook better than Mark; however, there's no food in the world that can outdo a dish made with love. He can please the senses with flavor and presentation, but he'll never fill a mother's heart the way a son, who puts love before grief, can.]
He looks up from the duck, chewing slowly so he can take that extra moment to formulate an answer before swallowing. ]
I mean... I think I'm past the age now where I can bring her breakfast in bed and it's like, cereal. Or burnt pancakes or something. [ A lopsided little smile, idly poking at the duck with his spork. ] I just think she deserves something nice, you know? Really nice, after everything she's been through. And I can't do really nice. I don't think I even have the time to learn it...
[ He sighs. ]
I know she's going to appreciate what I can do for her, and it's nice, but... I just wish I could give her more. Like I could really be worthy of everything she's given me.
[He can guarantee those burnt pancakes tasted better to Mark's mother than anything he could ever make . . . but it's not like he doesn't understand.]
You're still here, aren't you? Then you still have time.
[To arrive at an answer that will satisfy him as he proves himself before his mother on his own terms. Regrettable as what happened is, his mother is also still there, because of him. Mark may be down on himself right now, but the opportunity hasn't gone yet.
Sanji leans forward to fetch himself another morsel of the duck meat.]
Instead of what you can't, think carefully about what you can do. And don't worry about the food—the first chance I get to visit your world, I'll whip up a special dish for her.
Mark looks down for a moment, watching the spork like it's genuinely interesting or has some wisdom to dispense. When it turns out it doesn't, he looks back up to Sanji again, an attempt at a smile on his features. ]
I— I think you'll like our kitchen, at least. It's kind of like the one back at the house, but more open? And it'd be easy to get you any ingredients you need, so—
[ He cuts himself off there, because even he recognizes he's rambling. Takes a breath. ]
I... don't know what I can do that's actually... good. [ It'd been so easy to get lost in the moment, see blood on his hands again. He shakes his head. ] What's something you'd do for your sister? If, uh— If you could.
[The spork is a spork. It's just happy to serve Mark some duck meat.
As for Sanji, the mention of Reiju gives him pause. Like a bucket of ice, it crashes down on the warm imagination of cooking in a nice kitchen with ready ingredients and sweet customers, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts before helping himself to the morsel at hand.]
I don't have a sister. [Not anymore.] But if I did, I'd make her a meal.
[It's not helpful, he knows. Unfortunately, cooking has always been his answer . . . and the last memory he has of Reiju is her face, red and awash in tears. It makes him wonder how she's doing now and what he might've done for her in another lifetime.]
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Sanji imagines it: Mark, standing over a battered corpse in the middle of nowhere, hands stained irrevocably with blood and restless from the remnants of adrenaline. No glory or relief, just guilt and horror in deafening silence. It would take somewhere as far as another dimension to strand someone like him. A part of him is probably still back there. In another life, Sanji might have been in a similar position—only, he wouldn't have been so scrupulous or kind, deranged as he'd been.]
Most people only learn the true value of something once they've lost it. Food, people, even freedom and sanity . . . There's a lot we take for granted. Once we realize that, everything feels different.
[One learns to be grateful. At the same time, that's when the shame starts to weigh on one's shoulders. Sanji holds a hand out, eyes falling on the block in Mark's grasp and then back up to the latter's face. Seeing Mark like this, that weight will never alleviate in full . . . but Sanji can at least make sure he's fed and strong enough to stand just a little straighter.]
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He catches the movement of Sanji's hand in his periphery vision. Looks back up. Takes it, assuming it's for him, to stand back up, block still in his other hand. ]
... Yeah. Shit, I shouldn't even— I mean, freedom—
[ Mark doesn't know what it is to lose that. Does know what it is for Sanji to have it, and he feels really selfish for a second there. There really is only so much he can impose...
He inhales, taking in the scent of duck cooking, normal and good. Maybe he's not used to it out in the wilderness like this, but it's the principle of the matter — real food being prepared by a close friend. ]
I guess on the bright side, it lets you appreciate it more when you've got it back. [ When, not if. Because Mark got out of a dead wasteland, got the comforts of life back. His innocence and sense of right and wrong may be shattered, but he can pick up the pieces, so it'll be fine. It'll be fine. He nods at Sanji, a little too forceful of a movement to be directed solely at him. ] I mean... I'm never going to forget this.
[ The scent, the kindness behind creating it, the friendship behind that... He'll cling to it with all he has if he has to.
A beat. ]
Anything I can do to help?
[ Even if he caught the food... the urge to do something, to not be useless, is creeping back in again. It's a lot easier to be inside your own head when you also have other things to look at. ]
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Sanji is lucky. He's more than likely contributed to his share of irreversible damage against his foes, but he's yet to cross the line of his principles. Mark's lost that innocence, and he can cope with it . . . but that's never going to come back. Some horrors will never go away. At least he's got the right idea of hanging onto the good.
For Mark's sake, Sanji stands up, making use of their joined hands without the awkwardness of just dropping them. He does pull back afterward to extend that same hand again, palm upturned as he gives it a languid shake, his expression tame and casual.]
For starters, you can hand me that block, so I can finish carving out a spoon. We may be outside, but it's bad manners to eat with your bare hands.
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(He needs to learn to hold himself back, no matter what. He can't go there again.)
Mark smiles, small and grateful, at that languid shake. It's all good. He'll be good— ]
Oh.
[ He's an idiot. Small laugh, as he relinquishes the block to Sanji's far more capable hands. Right. Right, ]
Sorry about that. I... guess duck isn't exactly finger food, huh.
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Not this particular dish. Just because there's a stream we can wash our hands nearby, doesn't mean we have to be brutes.
[His tone is casual. A reasonable, civilized person would eat with utensils; sometimes, it's as simple as that.]
A spoon isn't ideal, but it'll get the job done.
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He could ask about that, sitting back down when he does. Or, ]
What about a spork? I don't know if that'd be any better, or easier to carve, or... whatever, but maybe it would help, even if the prongs aren't that much?
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It'll take a little longer, but we can give it a shot. [He shoots Mark a sidelong glance.] Not bad.
[At least he can trust Mark not to choke from shoveling food down his throat with his bare hands. That's a small mercy he always appreciates in people.]
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Longer isn't bad. It'll make them taste better when we get to dig in, right?
[ He leans back a little, resting on his hands. Okay, now he can ask. ]
Did you eat with your hands more when you first got here, or were you kind of always thinking about utensils?
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Of course I was!
[He ambles toward Mark and plops down on the ground beside him.]
I had table manners drilled into me as a kid. The only way I'd use my hands is if I were stranded on a rock.
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Sanji's answer does earn a blink, though. A curious little tilt of his head, but no movement otherwise. It's just nice to be with good company. ]
My mom'd like you. [ It just slides out, his smile relaxing. Really, most of the people on the show she'd probably like, or at least tolerate, but Sanji would be way up there on her list, he's pretty sure. ] I mean, it's not like I don't have table manners, but... yeah, if I'm lazy enough, I'd just use my hands.
[ And being stranded on an island feels like a good time to be lazy in at least that particular avenue of life? Sanji's so much more put together. So proper. Debbie wouldn't even bat an eye at the whole pirate thing. ]
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Most people don't know the character it demonstrates to like a pirate openly. Pirates have a sour reputation for a reason, but they're often demonized and accused of crimes that aren't theirs. For a public figure, it's also best not to be associated with them. Sanji never doubted the character of Mark's mother, but the certainty with which Mark speaks of her says so much more than he probably realizes.]
Don't embarrass your mom. [This is said in jest, but also:] If I catch you using your hands on anything that isn't finger food here, you're getting it.
[He can put up with friends being guys, but if it makes a fool out of Mark's sweet mother? No.]
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Okay, okay! No hands, I promise. [ His grin is easy, in a good mood, relaxing into the moment. Everything's alright here. Things are good right now. ] That especially goes for when I'm at the Baratie. I won't embarrass her, but I'm not gonna embarrass you either.
[ Especially since his mom isn't here to suffer any embarrassment. Sanji, on the other hand... and when he'll be aboard a restaurant, at that...
Although he'll probably end up finding some other way to inadvertently embarrass Sanji, but at least it shouldn't be food-related. Probably. ]
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[Patty, most of all. Little does Sanji know, his hideous wanted poster is plastered all over the walls of the Baratie. If it's between Mark and the cooks at the restaurant, however, there's no contest as to who the bigger clowns are.]
The only rule there is that nobody goes hungry. The cooks get into fights with pirates often enough that all the waiters jumped ship at one point, but everyone gets to eat. Don't kick anybody out, and you won't have trouble with the owner.
[This seems worth pointing out, because Mark is a conscientious guy who might find it difficult to sit back when there's a scuffle. Best to nip the potential crisis over restraining himself versus protecting someone before it can have the chance to form. The cooks can and have been taking care of the establishment for years now.]
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In the meantime, though, he pauses. ]
So... don't do anything stupid. [ Like capitalize on his need to play the hero, which even he isn't entirely sure about these days. Mark stares at his boots for a second. Back up at Sanji. ] Got it.
[ A beat. ]
Maybe being here will help me out after all...
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In any case, warning Mark ahead of time seems to have been the right choice. Still, isn't he being a little too hard on himself? Sanji's gaze lingers on him for a moment before he finishes up the spork by carving in the tines.]
If anything, you'll be helping those guys out. Don't be afraid to let Patty know when his food tastes like slop.
[It's really not that bad. In fact, Patty is a great patissier; he and Sanji have long traded insults, however, and that's not going to change anytime soon on either end. It's also a fact that Zeff, the owner, is by far the best chef on the ship, as well as the progenitor of most of Sanji's cooking techniques, so his dishes will be more familiar and luxurious.
The Baratie hosts a rowdy bunch of society's misfits, but they mean well. Mark will be in good hands, or Sanji will give them a thrashing upon his return.
Finally finished, Sanji holds out the spork to Mark. It's a touch crude, yet serviceable. As soon as that's out of his hands, he leans forward to fetch the cooked meat from the makeshift grill, which he deftly plates with some greens he'd foraged earlier on slab of stone that he then sets down in front of them.]
Here we go: Momoiro duck tagliata!
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Food tasting like slop, though... Mark opens his mouth like he's about to protest, he wouldn't just? Say that?? But then here's a spork, made far better than he could ever manage, and then there's duck, also plated far better than he ever could. Let alone the fact that they're on an island, with none of the familiar comforts of modernity, and Mark's just gotta stare for a minute.
Inhale, and oh, god. ]
It smells amazing. [ Piercing a slice to rip it away from the rest and popping it in his mouth, and Mark tips his head back, shutting his eyes as he makes a blissed out little noise. For a moment, all of his problems can fall away. Being a murderer, being in a world he doesn't know, having to leave his friend behind for a time while here... none of it matters in the present moment.
Chews. Swallows. Looks back to Sanji, grinning wide. ] God. This is so... good.
[ Understatement? He's going for another piece already. ]
Momorio duck tag... [ mispronounces the first, already forgot how the rest of the last word went. Either way. ] Is this one of the recipes you learned here?
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Nah, it's something I made early on in the challenge. I hadn't eaten in a day, and the kitchen was guarded . . . so I experimented with what was around me.
[Imagining that he was making food for Asa gave him the second wind he needed to overcome hunger and fatigue. If nothing else, his imagination (read: delusion) is his most powerful weapon. Mark's expression, on the other hand, is a very real balm to Sanji's soul as he grins around his morsel.]
Come to think of it, I also made zeppoline and acqua pazza with the duck fat back then. I didn't prepare them this time, because we're in a hurry, but I can ready a full course meal when you're back. It's important to eat a balanced meal that's rich in nutrients.
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[ He's taking in everything Sanji is saying bit by bit, letting the meaning of his words actually pierce his brain amid each flavourful bite. As soon as he says it Mark is pretty sure he's complimented Sanji in that fashion before, but why not really drive the point home? Especially when Sanji is smiling like that. ]
Yeah, I can see how this would be better than just eating a bunch of candy and calling it a day. [ This Mark has had an actual chance at maintaining university life before his current breakdown, he's almost certainly done this more than once.
He goes for another bite, but first, ] I'm sure I'll be fine while I'm here, but... mmmm.
[ Give him a second again. ]
I know you cooked a lot for us back at the house, but I wish I could share this with even more people. [ His mom chief on his mind, of course; even if the whole Omni-Man thing has been largely smoothed over thanks to his wish, Mark still remembers a different version of her, like. Crying sometimes. The desire to do nice things for her isn't going to go away. ] Your crew is going to be in the best position when you're all done here.
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Sanji nods as he partakes of the dish. Providing the best for his crew, who deserve nothing less than amazing, is a given; however, his mind is still on what Mark said before that.]
Yeah? Who do you have in mind?
[He's easy. If there's a beautiful lady Mark is hiding somewhere back home, Sanji will cook up a storm for her. If it's a man . . . Well, he'll feed him, too, so long as the guy's willing to eat.]
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Back in the actual moment, Mark pauses mid-bite at the question before swallowing, having to give voice to his internal thoughts now. ]
My mom. I just think that after everything she's been through...
[ Deep breath, any worry lines in his brow smoothing out. ]
I mean, my dad's fine now. It's like the worst of it never happened. But her arm still got broken pretty bad, and I just remember— I've made dinner a couple of times, but I feel like, I dunno, she just deserves better. You know?
[ Also, it's fine. He's pretty confident Sanji isn't going to be weird about his mom or anything. ]
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More importantly, it is a lady. Sanji has questions about exactly what Mark means by "like the worst of it never happened" with his father, to say nothing of the familiar self-effacement rearing its ugly head again, but he finds himself simply watching him instead.]
It's food from you. How much better do you think she can have?
[He does know. Objectively speaking, he can cook better than Mark; however, there's no food in the world that can outdo a dish made with love. He can please the senses with flavor and presentation, but he'll never fill a mother's heart the way a son, who puts love before grief, can.]
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He looks up from the duck, chewing slowly so he can take that extra moment to formulate an answer before swallowing. ]
I mean... I think I'm past the age now where I can bring her breakfast in bed and it's like, cereal. Or burnt pancakes or something. [ A lopsided little smile, idly poking at the duck with his spork. ] I just think she deserves something nice, you know? Really nice, after everything she's been through. And I can't do really nice. I don't think I even have the time to learn it...
[ He sighs. ]
I know she's going to appreciate what I can do for her, and it's nice, but... I just wish I could give her more. Like I could really be worthy of everything she's given me.
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You're still here, aren't you? Then you still have time.
[To arrive at an answer that will satisfy him as he proves himself before his mother on his own terms. Regrettable as what happened is, his mother is also still there, because of him. Mark may be down on himself right now, but the opportunity hasn't gone yet.
Sanji leans forward to fetch himself another morsel of the duck meat.]
Instead of what you can't, think carefully about what you can do. And don't worry about the food—the first chance I get to visit your world, I'll whip up a special dish for her.
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Mark looks down for a moment, watching the spork like it's genuinely interesting or has some wisdom to dispense. When it turns out it doesn't, he looks back up to Sanji again, an attempt at a smile on his features. ]
I— I think you'll like our kitchen, at least. It's kind of like the one back at the house, but more open? And it'd be easy to get you any ingredients you need, so—
[ He cuts himself off there, because even he recognizes he's rambling. Takes a breath. ]
I... don't know what I can do that's actually... good. [ It'd been so easy to get lost in the moment, see blood on his hands again. He shakes his head. ] What's something you'd do for your sister? If, uh— If you could.
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As for Sanji, the mention of Reiju gives him pause. Like a bucket of ice, it crashes down on the warm imagination of cooking in a nice kitchen with ready ingredients and sweet customers, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts before helping himself to the morsel at hand.]
I don't have a sister. [Not anymore.] But if I did, I'd make her a meal.
[It's not helpful, he knows. Unfortunately, cooking has always been his answer . . . and the last memory he has of Reiju is her face, red and awash in tears. It makes him wonder how she's doing now and what he might've done for her in another lifetime.]
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