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, ]
[Damn geezer is damn geezer. In 28 years of the series' ongoing run, the number of times Sanji has called him by name doesn't even fill one hand.]
Almost everyone calls him owner or head chef, but his name's Zeff.
[The Baratie, therapeutic? There's never a moment of peace in the kitchen or even the dining area; however, Sanji can't lie that he doesn't have fond memories. Either way, Mark is right—a change in scenery should give him a bit of a breather, if nothing else.
Sanji gives their environs a languid glance before fixing his gaze on Mark, who's valiantly trying to come off as casual. It's a fact that mood improves with food, but this is a mere pit stop for the latter. Sanji still has a year on this island, whereas Mark . . . a lifetime awaits him.]
The sun's shining . . . so you might as well head out while it's still bright. You good on the directions?
[ Mark has to think for a second. A little longer than a second. ]
I head east. If I see a big continent I take a right, and eventually I'll find the ship with the fish figurehead on it. [ He nods, feeling confident in a way he most likely does not deserve to. ] And that's where I'll find your room, and Zeff, and everything.
[ Zeff, who he'll call Zeff unless he gets yelled at not to, or something. Mark still doesn't have a clue what he's actually going to do when he gets there, but he figures that's a problem that'll sort itself out. He'll take advantage of his time here, learn some self-control, be a better person... enjoy the ocean and Sanji's company when he can. This will be good. He will make the best of this.
He smiles at Sanji as he pulls his mask back on, levitating just a little off the ground as he gets ready to head off. This will be good. This will be good,
pause. ]
Uh, if you can just tell me which way's east... and then I can be on my way.
[ Earning a lot of confidence, this one. It's a good thing he's fast. ]
[Who's Sanji to question the confidence in Mark's body language? The guy remembers the directions he was given, and he's fast, to boot. Surely this can't go wrong.
Zeff will not yell at Mark for calling him by name. If anything, he might grumble about Sanji's using the Baratie like some sort of hotel while letting Mark stay in the same breath. Of course, the Baratie isn't a charity; Mark will be expected to earn his modest keep by helping out, but nobody will needle him the way they bark at each other on the line. It'll be good.
Sanji looks up, past the cracks in the canopy overhead, as he recalls their geographical orientation. He straightens his neck and points off to the side.]
It's that way. Don't get lost!
[He'll be beside himself if Mark ends up on the other side of the Red Line somehow.]
[ Maybe not at first, but eventually it'd feel weird for Mark to not be helping out at the place he's staying, anyway. Initially it'd be like a vacation — he's sleeping in! He's lounging around! He's eating whatever! — but for a guy whose love language is acts of service, he'd actually need to. start doing something.
Besides, it's pretty much guaranteed to be better than Burger Mart, anyway.
Mark looks up at the direction Sanji is pointing in and nods, turning to face it. East, ship with the fish figurehead... And eventually west, to come back here again at some point.
So he's really going to have to not get lost. ]
Got it. I won't get lost. [ Reassuring grin. For real this time. ] Thanks, Sanji. I mean it.
[ And then he's floating higher up, and higher... Higher, until he's cleared the tree canopy, the island is well below him, and there's a sonic boom as he takes off, mercifully eastward. ]
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no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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!
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[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?
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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, ]
no subject
Almost everyone calls him owner or head chef, but his name's Zeff.
[The Baratie, therapeutic? There's never a moment of peace in the kitchen or even the dining area; however, Sanji can't lie that he doesn't have fond memories. Either way, Mark is right—a change in scenery should give him a bit of a breather, if nothing else.
Sanji gives their environs a languid glance before fixing his gaze on Mark, who's valiantly trying to come off as casual. It's a fact that mood improves with food, but this is a mere pit stop for the latter. Sanji still has a year on this island, whereas Mark . . . a lifetime awaits him.]
The sun's shining . . . so you might as well head out while it's still bright. You good on the directions?
no subject
I head east. If I see a big continent I take a right, and eventually I'll find the ship with the fish figurehead on it. [ He nods, feeling confident in a way he most likely does not deserve to. ] And that's where I'll find your room, and Zeff, and everything.
[ Zeff, who he'll call Zeff unless he gets yelled at not to, or something. Mark still doesn't have a clue what he's actually going to do when he gets there, but he figures that's a problem that'll sort itself out. He'll take advantage of his time here, learn some self-control, be a better person... enjoy the ocean and Sanji's company when he can. This will be good. He will make the best of this.
He smiles at Sanji as he pulls his mask back on, levitating just a little off the ground as he gets ready to head off. This will be good. This will be good,
pause. ]
Uh, if you can just tell me which way's east... and then I can be on my way.
[ Earning a lot of confidence, this one. It's a good thing he's fast. ]
no subject
Zeff will not yell at Mark for calling him by name. If anything, he might grumble about Sanji's using the Baratie like some sort of hotel while letting Mark stay in the same breath. Of course, the Baratie isn't a charity; Mark will be expected to earn his modest keep by helping out, but nobody will needle him the way they bark at each other on the line. It'll be good.
Sanji looks up, past the cracks in the canopy overhead, as he recalls their geographical orientation. He straightens his neck and points off to the side.]
It's that way. Don't get lost!
[He'll be beside himself if Mark ends up on the other side of the Red Line somehow.]
no subject
Besides, it's pretty much guaranteed to be better than Burger Mart, anyway.
Mark looks up at the direction Sanji is pointing in and nods, turning to face it. East, ship with the fish figurehead... And eventually west, to come back here again at some point.
So he's really going to have to not get lost. ]
Got it. I won't get lost. [ Reassuring grin. For real this time. ] Thanks, Sanji. I mean it.
[ And then he's floating higher up, and higher... Higher, until he's cleared the tree canopy, the island is well below him, and there's a sonic boom as he takes off, mercifully eastward. ]