Nah, it was nothing. Just the gentlemanly thing to do, you know? [ They both know that when he tries to wave it off, smile easy and nonchalant, it’s not nothing. Sure, it’s a really low bar— and Sanji’s run into men that wouldn’t clear that, men he’s left beaten and bloody— but even looking at her, seeing the earnestness in her gaze, he can see how much it does matter. ] Anyone decent would do the same.
[ A part of him wonders how many decent men she’s known in her past. Life here is different in a thousand tiny ways compared to where he’s from— and where she’s from, too, he’d wager— and it’s easy to get swept along in the lurid, shameless current that the Peacock is filled with, but in his experience, most people here are good and decent and kind. Enough so to avert their eyes when a pretty lady’s clearly uncomfortable in the shower, despite the regularity of communal showers. Maybe it’s that sense— more of an instinct, like it always is when it comes to women— layered with the sight of those battle scarred fingers that makes it so easy for him to talk about some of what’s happened here.
She’s a fantastic listener. It’s maybe a cliche that bartenders are great listeners, but she’s proving that old addedges are sometimes rooted in reality. Really, he could’ve decided that from the showers, but it’s more obvious here with her gaze— both gentle and considering— turned directly on him, watching him as keeps talking. That’s another reason it’s so easy to share because the way she watches him encourages that, expects more words rather than fewer. And while he makes it a point to share some of the hard-fought wisdom that life here’s earned him with every new arrival he encounters into, it’s rarely quite so personal as this is.
And then it’s his turn to return the favor, drinking in every detail of her story with the same encouraging smile and thoughtful look plastered on his face, head dipping in an encouraging nod every now and again until she’s done and Sanji gives a thoughtful little hum and another gentle smile. ] Sounds like it was a pretty damn fine bar. Sorry to hear it’s gone now. The world can always use more places like that, yeah? Where people feel at home and welcomed and cared for. What’s the point in owning a bar— or a restaurant— if people don’t feel like they belong there. [ There is more than a hint of passion fueling his words— his tempo picks up slightly, as does his volume, but only a little— his grin growing wider, broader, less restrained. ] Back home, I worked at this floating restaurant called Baratie for a long time. Wasn’t the owner— that was this old man named Zeff— but it felt a lot like this place. Pretty nice, had a waitlist a mile long, but it was nice and inviting, too. Bet you’d have liked it, Tifa. [ And with that, his grin softens just a bit again, head very slightly tilted as he looks over at her, sincere in what he says next. ] Hope you’re able to rebuild it one day. I’d say I’d come get a drink there, but— kinda doubt we’re from the same place.
[ He’s learned not to get his hopes up about that, not after so many blank stares after mentioning Gold Roger and the One Piece and everything else that seems to be so unique to the time and place he and the other pirates here all seem to hail from. Thinking of home always makes him feel slightly wistful— his heart aches to see the Merry again, to stand on the gently swaying deck, to see Usopp and Luffy safe and sound and waiting for the three of them that remain here— but there’s joy to be found it in, too, joy that’s even sweeter when she asks about his dream. ]
Nah, not too invasive at all. [ Soft, rich laughter bubbles up from his chest as he says it, eyes bright, smile wide and full of an idealistic dreamer’s enthusiasm. It’s almost unconscious the way his fingers fidget, as if trying to play with a lighter that’s currently tucked away in his pocket, as he turns to face her fully, unable to help himself. ] Back where I come from, there’s this… place called the All Blue. It’s this legendary sea, yeah? And in it, you can find fish from any of the world’s oceans. Any of them, all of them, alongside rare seaweeds and spices we’ve never even heard of. It’s a cook’s paradise and I’m gonna find it one day. [ Even now, he can almost hear the faint echoes of the voices that mocked him as a child, but it doesn’t matter. ] And that’s my dream. To find it. Maybe it sounds stupid to you, but— I’m gonna do it. Rest of my friends have dreams just as big, but we’re all gonna accomplish them or die trying.
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[ A part of him wonders how many decent men she’s known in her past. Life here is different in a thousand tiny ways compared to where he’s from— and where she’s from, too, he’d wager— and it’s easy to get swept along in the lurid, shameless current that the Peacock is filled with, but in his experience, most people here are good and decent and kind. Enough so to avert their eyes when a pretty lady’s clearly uncomfortable in the shower, despite the regularity of communal showers. Maybe it’s that sense— more of an instinct, like it always is when it comes to women— layered with the sight of those battle scarred fingers that makes it so easy for him to talk about some of what’s happened here.
She’s a fantastic listener. It’s maybe a cliche that bartenders are great listeners, but she’s proving that old addedges are sometimes rooted in reality. Really, he could’ve decided that from the showers, but it’s more obvious here with her gaze— both gentle and considering— turned directly on him, watching him as keeps talking. That’s another reason it’s so easy to share because the way she watches him encourages that, expects more words rather than fewer. And while he makes it a point to share some of the hard-fought wisdom that life here’s earned him with every new arrival he encounters into, it’s rarely quite so personal as this is.
And then it’s his turn to return the favor, drinking in every detail of her story with the same encouraging smile and thoughtful look plastered on his face, head dipping in an encouraging nod every now and again until she’s done and Sanji gives a thoughtful little hum and another gentle smile. ] Sounds like it was a pretty damn fine bar. Sorry to hear it’s gone now. The world can always use more places like that, yeah? Where people feel at home and welcomed and cared for. What’s the point in owning a bar— or a restaurant— if people don’t feel like they belong there. [ There is more than a hint of passion fueling his words— his tempo picks up slightly, as does his volume, but only a little— his grin growing wider, broader, less restrained. ] Back home, I worked at this floating restaurant called Baratie for a long time. Wasn’t the owner— that was this old man named Zeff— but it felt a lot like this place. Pretty nice, had a waitlist a mile long, but it was nice and inviting, too. Bet you’d have liked it, Tifa. [ And with that, his grin softens just a bit again, head very slightly tilted as he looks over at her, sincere in what he says next. ] Hope you’re able to rebuild it one day. I’d say I’d come get a drink there, but— kinda doubt we’re from the same place.
[ He’s learned not to get his hopes up about that, not after so many blank stares after mentioning Gold Roger and the One Piece and everything else that seems to be so unique to the time and place he and the other pirates here all seem to hail from. Thinking of home always makes him feel slightly wistful— his heart aches to see the Merry again, to stand on the gently swaying deck, to see Usopp and Luffy safe and sound and waiting for the three of them that remain here— but there’s joy to be found it in, too, joy that’s even sweeter when she asks about his dream. ]
Nah, not too invasive at all. [ Soft, rich laughter bubbles up from his chest as he says it, eyes bright, smile wide and full of an idealistic dreamer’s enthusiasm. It’s almost unconscious the way his fingers fidget, as if trying to play with a lighter that’s currently tucked away in his pocket, as he turns to face her fully, unable to help himself. ] Back where I come from, there’s this… place called the All Blue. It’s this legendary sea, yeah? And in it, you can find fish from any of the world’s oceans. Any of them, all of them, alongside rare seaweeds and spices we’ve never even heard of. It’s a cook’s paradise and I’m gonna find it one day. [ Even now, he can almost hear the faint echoes of the voices that mocked him as a child, but it doesn’t matter. ] And that’s my dream. To find it. Maybe it sounds stupid to you, but— I’m gonna do it. Rest of my friends have dreams just as big, but we’re all gonna accomplish them or die trying.