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.]
Mark had reached to stab at another piece of duck, but now he's just kind of holding the spork upright and in place. He looks off to the side, like he can't fuck up there. ]
Sorry, I... [ He's just gonna let the spork go too, actually. It stays upright in the slice of meat, waiting to be used again. ] I mean, I thought... sorry.
[ He knows Sanji has a sister, present tense. He's apologizing for overstepping his bounds, because for as much as Sanji had warned him that the place he'd seen back at the house, in his sekai, didn't exist... it did, and he doesn't think it's right to bury all of that.
But it's also not his call. But it still strikes him as not right. But...
Looking back at the duck, risking a glance up at Sanji through his lashes. ]
What's the first meal you ever made? Like, as a beginner. Something a beginner could do.
[ ... maybe part of his past should still be talked about. It can't be a good thing to like... deny all of it. ]
[His eyes flit to the spork in the meat. Manners, Mark, please. Having said that, Sanji doesn't find himself feeling especially offended—not when Mark's being this sensitive about a perceived error. It's nosy and careless, to be sure, but it could've been much worse. He won't put his foot down yet.
When their gazes meet, Sanji simply turns back to the meat with the casual turn of his head. Food's always been a safe topic between them, and that hasn't changed even now. Will talking about it help Mark . . . ?]
Let's see . . . If we're talking a meal, it was a lunch box with fish, egg omelettes, and bananas. I was lousy at cooking back then, so anyone could've done the same.
[ . . . if not better, because he'd produced something truly heinous. In retrospect, the long-suffering head chef who'd monitored him then must've been stressed beyond words, watching him make a mess and cut himself several times over. Despite the fretful distance, Sanji remembers him as a kind man.
He glances over his shoulder at Mark with an easy grin.]
If you wanna learn, I can write down a recipe for you.
[ He doesn't have time for manners; he already feels like an asshole.
Sanji's response helps put him at ease, though; his grin, specifically. Mark feels the tension in his body ease, hunched shoulders relaxing as he sits up a little straighter. Still leaves the spork standing upright in the duck on its own, because he isn't thinking, but offers a tentative smile of his own. ]
That'd be nice. It'd be good to have something to bring back with me... I'd appreciate that. I mean, I should be able to make an omelette, right? Maybe with some vegetables and stuff too...
[ Just, talking about normal, everyday stuff. It's good. It's nice to relax into. Helps keep the existential terror that is living in his body with all that it can do away. ]
[Mark hadn't been so delicate back at the house. Seeing and listening to him now, it's painfully clear how much recent events have rattled him. It almost hurts to watch, knowing the turmoil that lies behind the desperation betraying his smile . . . but at least he isn't weathering it completely alone.]
When it comes to nutrition, a balanced meal is key. I'll have something ready when you come back.
[Something simple and easy to follow, ideally. Complexity doesn't make a dish. Sanji doesn't have pen and paper on hand, but he'll figure something out. There's squid whose ink he can use after fishing it out of shallow water, and plenty around him that can substitute a canvas on which to write. He can always shoot Mark a message, but that wouldn't really be something he can "bring back" with him.
He gestures at the damn spork.]
But you'll need to make the journey for that to happen first, so eat. And don't leave your spork in the meat!
[ He nods; proper nutrition, a balanced meal, all good things. Having something ready for him when he comes back — that eases Mark's smile some, makes it softer, has him less in his head. He isn't thinking in terms quite so clear — isn't aware of how obvious any changes to his personality are — but companionship is important. Friends are important. Being able to give and receive things to and from one another is important.
And snaps out of whatever kumbaya reverie he was trying to put himself in as Sanji gestures at the spork. ]
Shit! Sorry, sorry. [ So focused on the power of friendship he forgot about food, the thing that got his and Sanji's friendship going... He's going to take the spork back now, meat attached to it all, and pop it in his mouth. Chewing, swallowing, looking sheepish. ] This really is good. I, uh. That's a lesson too, huh...
[ Looking after himself? Except it feels weird to say that, like he isn't an adult, 18, he should know this by now. So he'll just leave the thought hanging there and go for a penultimate slice. ]
Sanji's lips curl into a wry smile at the compliment before evening out. Mark might be content to let himself trail off, but Sanji's curiosity has been piqued as he chews on the last slice of duck meat. Good thing, too: If they loiter for too long, they'll be discovered and delayed even more.]
[ he is just a little baby dog sometimes it's true.
He finishes off his last bit of meal, it going down right as Sanji asks his question, so Mark doesn't even have the ability to stall. Now he's just looking like a deer in headlights, eyes widening in surprise before he forces himself back to normal. ]
Uh. Just that...
... I should take care of myself when I'm here. That's all.
[ Whatever comes after, when he's back home, is... whatever comes after. The merits of taking care of himself can be determined then. ]
[He says this lightly as if they were chatting over a quick cigarette break at work. He sets the chopsticks down on the empty makeshift platter, his eyes on the dying fire.]
You should always look after yourself. How else is your mom going to breathe easy?
[ A literal dagger probably can't so much as break his skin. A metaphorical dagger to the heart, though? Mark flinches, taking an extra few seconds before setting his spork down next to the chopsticks. ]
I— [ looks at the ground. Shaky breath, ] I know, I know. She shouldn't have to worry about me on top of everything else. I just... with everything that's happened...
[ He scrubs at his face, ends the movement by running a hand through his hair. Looks back up at the fire, matching Sanji's line of sight. ]
I know it doesn't do anything to not look after myself. It's just... hard, you know?
[Does he know? He sits there, pondering as he stares into the dimming fire if he's ever felt such bone-crushing guilt to the point he'd given up on himself. (12 years ago? Maybe. Not exactly. It's a distant memory.) That's what he wants to avoid, and why he'd choose death over risking certain principles.
Mark doesn't have that luxury anymore. Sanji climbs onto his feet and slides a hand in his pant pocket. He doesn't necessarily understand—and he's fortunate for it—but he can grasp that it's not easy for Mark.]
That's why you're here. [Well, Mark rushed over on a misunderstanding; even so, that's motion in action. It was hard to tackle the issue by himself, so he reached out for help. He's not alone.] The damn geezer's got a keen sense of smell and an even sharper temper. It's the same for me, so learn what you can here and take that with you once you go home.
[ Mark looks up as Sanji shifts to his feet, furrowed gaze going to something more lost. He's swimming, he's drowning— He's on a perfectly nice island, if with odd inhabitants, where things are presently peaceful, sun shining and everything feeling nice. And also, he's a murderer, so what right does he have to be here—
Is that why he's here? He doesn't know anymore. But Sanji's talking about his immediate future already, his damn geezer he's recalled fondly in the past, and Mark finds it easier to just focus on his words. What's coming up next.
After a moment he stands, too. Tries for a smile. If nothing else, maybe he can convince himself. ]
Yeah, okay. [ Deep breath. Forces his body to relax. ] You're here to get better, so... so will I. Can't hurt to be somewhere completely different for it, right? The sun is shining... I'll have the ocean breeze... Maybe it'll be, I don't know, therapeutic.
[ as if he knows what therapy is. a beat ]
I won't embarrass you with, uh... Does the damn geezer have a name?
[ neither he nor I can remember if Sanji's ever told him, but it feels like particularly pertinent information now, ]
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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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Mark had reached to stab at another piece of duck, but now he's just kind of holding the spork upright and in place. He looks off to the side, like he can't fuck up there. ]
Sorry, I... [ He's just gonna let the spork go too, actually. It stays upright in the slice of meat, waiting to be used again. ] I mean, I thought... sorry.
[ He knows Sanji has a sister, present tense. He's apologizing for overstepping his bounds, because for as much as Sanji had warned him that the place he'd seen back at the house, in his sekai, didn't exist... it did, and he doesn't think it's right to bury all of that.
But it's also not his call. But it still strikes him as not right. But...
Looking back at the duck, risking a glance up at Sanji through his lashes. ]
What's the first meal you ever made? Like, as a beginner. Something a beginner could do.
[ ... maybe part of his past should still be talked about. It can't be a good thing to like... deny all of it. ]
no subject
When their gazes meet, Sanji simply turns back to the meat with the casual turn of his head. Food's always been a safe topic between them, and that hasn't changed even now. Will talking about it help Mark . . . ?]
Let's see . . . If we're talking a meal, it was a lunch box with fish, egg omelettes, and bananas. I was lousy at cooking back then, so anyone could've done the same.
[ . . . if not better, because he'd produced something truly heinous. In retrospect, the long-suffering head chef who'd monitored him then must've been stressed beyond words, watching him make a mess and cut himself several times over. Despite the fretful distance, Sanji remembers him as a kind man.
He glances over his shoulder at Mark with an easy grin.]
If you wanna learn, I can write down a recipe for you.
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Sanji's response helps put him at ease, though; his grin, specifically. Mark feels the tension in his body ease, hunched shoulders relaxing as he sits up a little straighter. Still leaves the spork standing upright in the duck on its own, because he isn't thinking, but offers a tentative smile of his own. ]
That'd be nice. It'd be good to have something to bring back with me... I'd appreciate that. I mean, I should be able to make an omelette, right? Maybe with some vegetables and stuff too...
[ Just, talking about normal, everyday stuff. It's good. It's nice to relax into. Helps keep the existential terror that is living in his body with all that it can do away. ]
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When it comes to nutrition, a balanced meal is key. I'll have something ready when you come back.
[Something simple and easy to follow, ideally. Complexity doesn't make a dish. Sanji doesn't have pen and paper on hand, but he'll figure something out. There's squid whose ink he can use after fishing it out of shallow water, and plenty around him that can substitute a canvas on which to write. He can always shoot Mark a message, but that wouldn't really be something he can "bring back" with him.
He gestures at the damn spork.]
But you'll need to make the journey for that to happen first, so eat. And don't leave your spork in the meat!
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And snaps out of whatever kumbaya reverie he was trying to put himself in as Sanji gestures at the spork. ]
Shit! Sorry, sorry. [ So focused on the power of friendship he forgot about food, the thing that got his and Sanji's friendship going... He's going to take the spork back now, meat attached to it all, and pop it in his mouth. Chewing, swallowing, looking sheepish. ] This really is good. I, uh. That's a lesson too, huh...
[ Looking after himself? Except it feels weird to say that, like he isn't an adult, 18, he should know this by now. So he'll just leave the thought hanging there and go for a penultimate slice. ]
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Sanji's lips curl into a wry smile at the compliment before evening out. Mark might be content to let himself trail off, but Sanji's curiosity has been piqued as he chews on the last slice of duck meat. Good thing, too: If they loiter for too long, they'll be discovered and delayed even more.]
What's that?
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He finishes off his last bit of meal, it going down right as Sanji asks his question, so Mark doesn't even have the ability to stall. Now he's just looking like a deer in headlights, eyes widening in surprise before he forces himself back to normal. ]
Uh. Just that...
... I should take care of myself when I'm here. That's all.
[ Whatever comes after, when he's back home, is... whatever comes after. The merits of taking care of himself can be determined then. ]
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[He says this lightly as if they were chatting over a quick cigarette break at work. He sets the chopsticks down on the empty makeshift platter, his eyes on the dying fire.]
You should always look after yourself. How else is your mom going to breathe easy?
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I— [ looks at the ground. Shaky breath, ] I know, I know. She shouldn't have to worry about me on top of everything else. I just... with everything that's happened...
[ He scrubs at his face, ends the movement by running a hand through his hair. Looks back up at the fire, matching Sanji's line of sight. ]
I know it doesn't do anything to not look after myself. It's just... hard, you know?
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Mark doesn't have that luxury anymore. Sanji climbs onto his feet and slides a hand in his pant pocket. He doesn't necessarily understand—and he's fortunate for it—but he can grasp that it's not easy for Mark.]
That's why you're here. [Well, Mark rushed over on a misunderstanding; even so, that's motion in action. It was hard to tackle the issue by himself, so he reached out for help. He's not alone.] The damn geezer's got a keen sense of smell and an even sharper temper. It's the same for me, so learn what you can here and take that with you once you go home.
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Is that why he's here? He doesn't know anymore. But Sanji's talking about his immediate future already, his damn geezer he's recalled fondly in the past, and Mark finds it easier to just focus on his words. What's coming up next.
After a moment he stands, too. Tries for a smile. If nothing else, maybe he can convince himself. ]
Yeah, okay. [ Deep breath. Forces his body to relax. ] You're here to get better, so... so will I. Can't hurt to be somewhere completely different for it, right? The sun is shining... I'll have the ocean breeze... Maybe it'll be, I don't know, therapeutic.
[ as if he knows what therapy is. a beat ]
I won't embarrass you with, uh... Does the damn geezer have a name?
[ neither he nor I can remember if Sanji's ever told him, but it feels like particularly pertinent information now, ]
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