[ Relief seeps through him the moment he sees Tifa's message, something warm and fond swelling in his chest when he reads i like seeing you so plainly written out. They're kindred spirits, he thinks, and not just because of the diamond-shaped marks they both have stamped on their bodies. Maybe it's just his own preconceptions, his own biases favoring someone else who’s spent her days perfecting her craft and providing the kind of quiet, unassuming care that Sanji believes every cook and bartender should aspire to convey through food and drink, but… he doubts that very much so. Even back in that awkward moment where they'd first met, something about her had put him at ease, an ease that left her deeply easy to chat with.
So no wonder the thought of cooking for her– of finally getting to show her that his skills eclipse whatever bragging he's done– helps give him strength. ]
see you soon.
[ He's waiting for her there when she rounds the corner, skin still slightly flushed and damp from where he's only just washed up, head pounding and swimming at the same time, but he’s there. While he's not bothered to dress quite as snappily as normal either– there's no blazer, no tie, no vest– it's not far off from his usual style, either, dark blue slacks and an off white button-up shirt, the top three buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Despite the ruthless grip the distant thunder of that beating heart has over him, there's no hiding his naked delight when she steps into view. His lips curl into a broad grin, as wide as the sky and brighter than any candle, and he gives her a little wave by way of greeting. ]
Hey, you. [ Impulse makes his body prickle, the urge to wrap his arms around her in a quick hug almost too much to ignore. It's part protective instinct– that part of him that wants to make her feel better– and part memory of the closeness they've already shared once. Instead, he settles for offering her his hand with a quick wink, that grin tugging a bit wider even as he feels a tendril of dizziness slide across his sense of balance. ] Ready to go share a meal with your favorite chef?
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So no wonder the thought of cooking for her– of finally getting to show her that his skills eclipse whatever bragging he's done– helps give him strength. ]
see you soon.
[ He's waiting for her there when she rounds the corner, skin still slightly flushed and damp from where he's only just washed up, head pounding and swimming at the same time, but he’s there. While he's not bothered to dress quite as snappily as normal either– there's no blazer, no tie, no vest– it's not far off from his usual style, either, dark blue slacks and an off white button-up shirt, the top three buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Despite the ruthless grip the distant thunder of that beating heart has over him, there's no hiding his naked delight when she steps into view. His lips curl into a broad grin, as wide as the sky and brighter than any candle, and he gives her a little wave by way of greeting. ]
Hey, you. [ Impulse makes his body prickle, the urge to wrap his arms around her in a quick hug almost too much to ignore. It's part protective instinct– that part of him that wants to make her feel better– and part memory of the closeness they've already shared once. Instead, he settles for offering her his hand with a quick wink, that grin tugging a bit wider even as he feels a tendril of dizziness slide across his sense of balance. ] Ready to go share a meal with your favorite chef?