Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“ Do you ever feel like a hypocrite?” Penguin asked.

Law considered his words, before turning his attention to the buzzing light overhead. The bulb was bad, on its way to being dead. He had never given much thought to who changed the bulbs on the train before, or how they knew it was time to change them. How long did it take the GLTA to notice? They so rarely noticed the pools of piss that the train carts accumulated each weekend. The train carts were perpetually well lit and rheumy from drunkards and other sorts. Maybe light bulbs were higher priority than piss and vomit.

“Law,” Penguin said, this time with force.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Law said. “What are you asking? About the smoking?”

“The smoking,” Penguin said. “The lack of exercise, the sleeplessness, the drinking, the-- all of it, Law. You tell a patient how to better themselves and then turn into this when you’re not at work. I’m worried.”

‘This’ was tired and wearing a dirty black hoodie with a yellow stain on the cuff. Law couldn’t remember the last time he’d had mustard, but he’d found the hoodie underneath a pile of other hoodies so possibly it’d been there a while. It didn’t smell bad or, at the very least, it didn’t smell worse than the puddle of piss five seats over.

“Do you want to have this conversation now?”

“When else can I? You never come out anymore.”

“I work the same 13-hour shifts as you,” Law said. “I’m sorry that I don’t want to go out.”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“No,” Law answered. “I don’t feel like a hypocrite telling someone with heart problems not to smoke and to get thirty minutes of exercise in a day.”

“Do you think it’ll never catch up with you?”

“No,” Law said. He felt like a worm, stuck on Penguin’s hook. He’d tried wriggling off of it and had failed. Law knew what Penguin’s response would be but in the end he still said, “I’d listen to a doctor who told me it was quit or die.” Penguin flipped his hands over, a gesture that could only be interpreted one way. So Law said, “I’m nowhere close to dying, Doctor.”

Their train chose that moment to screech as it decelerated, rolling into Penguin’s stop. Penguin hauled himself out of his seat, his expression twisted into an angry and sad state. He looked ready to say something else but the doors opened, so Penguin sighed and left without further comment.

Law looked up at the flickering bulb again, watching it until the shape of it was seared into his retinas. Even when he closed his eyes in a faux attempt to get some sleep he could still see it, flickering in time with the sharp buzzing.

On his way home from his own stop—the last one on the line—Law smoked two cigarettes. The first one because he’d forgone one on the way to the train, for Penguin’s benefit, and the second one out of spite.

When he arrived home, his apartment was cold and dark and also damp because he’d left a window open, allowing all the humidity from the river nearby to creep in. It wasn’t quiet, though, on account of the bar downstairs and the one next to it and the third one across the street. All around his living room was clutter from crap he didn’t often clean up and collections he didn’t often dust.

If he had the energy he could move further into the city alongside his friends, who had all moved closer to uptown to reduce their commute time. But the thought of cleaning his apartment up enough to move had him closing his laptop every time he entertained the thought of finding a broker, finally waving around the nice doctor’s salary he earned, and getting a nice place high up where he couldn’t hear the traffic and with great big windows on every wall so he could watch both the sunset and the sunrise if he pleased.

Law dropped his backpack by the door, next to every pair of shoes that he owned, and threw himself onto his couch. It was lumpy and smelled bad, like cigarettes and crumbs that he swore to himself every time that he’d get around to cleaning but never did. He yanked open the drawer of his coffee table and it was a bit of a struggle, on account of the weight of the contents: Several rows of protein shakes.

They were disgusting but they were accessible. At the very least, he wasn’t going to starve to death because the thought of cooking was exhausting. Even when he did cook, there was no guarantee that he’d be able to finish it before the food turned to sand in his mouth.

Penguin was both right and wrong of course. Law had a problem, yes, but Law also knew that. Of course he knew. In fact, he had access to more information than his friends and was willing to wager that he was worse off than they suspected. He had been caught in a cycle of letting things get bad and then waking up one day with the humiliating realization of how bad they were. He was trying his best in the absence of a real solution, meeting himself where he was at.

He could go to a psychiatrist and get some kind of script but he’d otherwise be an awful patient. He’d had his own patients like himself, the kind that wanted to feel better, especially for others, but who just couldn’t get over the hump. They couldn’t stop drinking, they couldn’t stop smoking, they couldn’t change their diets, their lifestyle. It was awful as a doctor to know someone was ignoring their treatment plan, but he was filled with empathy that kept him gentle enough with them, because he knew it was awful as a patient too.

It had killed more than a handful in the end, no matter how many prescriptions he wrote, no matter how many packets of recommended lifestyle changes he printed and stapled and shoved into their hands. No matter how hard he’d tried. Law didn’t plan on letting it kill him. Penguin had no way of knowing that the thought of certain people finding out that he offed himself irritated the shit out of him enough to keep him alive, drinking warm protein shakes on his couch, and wearing stinky hoodies. In that sense, at least, he was not a hypocrite.

He was just tired. Tired enough that he put the cardboard container on the table with the other cardboard containers of protein shakes and cigarettes and weird foreign cookies that Bepo bought him when he went to the import stores in his decidedly better neighborhood, and promptly fell asleep.

Law didn’t wake up until eleven, which gave him enough time to shower and find another hoodie in the piles of clothes lining the walls of what was technically his bedroom but was functionally a dirty clothes' basket. He put on his shoes and grabbed his backpack and smoked 1 (one) cigarette on the way to his station. A woman shot him a dirty look along the way and he did feel bad. Secondhand smoke does increase the likelihood of lung cancer by 20-30% in adults after all.

He bought his daily scrubs from the vending machine and changed into them in their locker room, replacing his backpack for his embroidered coat and a pair of white linen gloves to hide his allowed but unadvisable hand tattoos. He could get them removed and probably work somewhere better but it’d take several sessions and the boost of energy that it’d take to get started on the process would not last him through several rounds. This was called ‘knowing your limitations’, and it was an important part of treatment.

In contrast to his home, his office was clean, tidy, organized. It even smelled nice and inoffensive. The office was small enough to possibly have been a storage closet by design, but it was a luxury granted to him because they over worked him and they knew it. All of his patients for the daytime half of his shift were all follow-ups, people who had been through the ER two-three-four nights before, and it was a matter of looking over their files before administering their appointments in a nearby examination room. It was all good news, all day, all smiles and well wishes and even a clumsy high five with a man in his forties who was still reeling a week later from being alive, from not having a heart attack after all.

And in the evening when he met with Shachi for dinner in the cafeteria it was nice too, despite the fact that Penguin had probably told him about their conversation when he got home. Shachi was probably the one who told Penguin to talk to Law after his own intervention with Law had ended pretty much the same way.

After dinner, Law worked late into the night, screening patients in the emergency room who came in with chest pains. That too was nice, as one of them just had a murmur that they’d now spotted early and two of them were just panic attacks that could be worked through, and none of them were impeding heart attacks that he needed to hand over to Hogback.

Law had specialized in Cardiothoracic surgery during his residency and wound up in ER anyways, so it was pleasant to listen to a heart or review an EKG and know what he was looking at, what he was working with. Listening to someone’s chest was so familiar to him as to be second nature. It was a sort of language that he’d worked so hard to learn and it was delightful to feel like the hard work hadn’t all been for naught. Oftentimes his patients hearts felt more familiar than his own. So quickly could he tell what was an impeding disaster and what could be worked through by other means.

That he’d wound up with this specific task after only a couple of years was another luxury granted to him, because he was overqualified for the hospital, which had 2-star reviews and was generally regarded as the worst one out of the hundreds in the city, and they knew it. It was a luxury he gladly indulged in; these days the only bright spots of his life were sending people home or upstairs to be monitored closely but not nervously. Essentially, he was living only to tell other people they were going to live. But he didn’t see a problem with that. Never that.

By some miracle Law managed to dodge Penguin when he went upstairs and dropped his scrubs in the laundry chute. So he smoked on the way to the station and another one, again, on the way home. He returned to his apartment, still humid because he forgot about the window in his rush, drank his protein shake, and fell asleep. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat.

On the fourth day Law got the sense that he wasn’t experiencing a series of miracles, and that Penguin was avoiding him too. Law’s chief piece of evidence was Bepo telling him, “Penguin’s avoiding you.”

“Did he say that?”

“More or less,” he ran a stressed hand through his pale crop of blond hair. “He’s worried about you.”

“So he said.” Law shoved the cafeteria lasagna into his mouth with fevered urgency, as if he could will Bepo to stop talking about this because Law’s mouth was full.

“To be honest,” Bepo began. “So am I.”

Rinse, repeat.

Law managed to sleep until 4pm the next day, his single day off that week, which felt like a victory but really wasn’t. He’d be awake far past two am, when he normally went to sleep, and would just wind up exhausted at work the next day. He tried to ignore this fact as he went about his day well-rested but it loomed over him as he hauled his underwear and jeans and a couple of t-shirts to the washateria down the street. It loomed over him as he took a trash bag filled with his collection of little cardboard boxes to the dumpster. It loomed over him as he heated up a tray of freezer burnt paneer and watched a few episodes of Sora: Warrior of the Sea.

It loomed over him as he completed his favorite activity these days: Pressing his fingers to his temples, curled up on the couch, because nothing, nothing, could distract him from the pain.

On his days off he missed his work, his patients, and the three coworkers who weren’t total dicks but who were no longer speaking to him. If he tried to start a conversation with them, though, they would respond kindly. He missed the version of himself from six months ago who struggled sometimes, but who could manage to get through most days alright. And it was this pain, the pain that comes from missing a version of yourself that you lost along the way, that compelled him to take the black trash bags under his sink and sort through his dirty clothes room.

It was musty, as expected, but Law opened the windows and sorted the clothes into the bags. He didn’t need his winter clothes so he put the thick sweaters and coats into a few bags and tossed them into the back corner. He put his need to wear soon clothes—underwear, socks, a few pairs of pants—into the mesh bag he carried his laundry in. And everything else like shorts for the upcoming summer and tank tops and gym wear, stuff like that, into the rest of the bags and lined them all up against the far wall. Each bag was filled just enough for one trip to the washateria. It would only take him a fairly reasonable twelve trips. Probably more because he’d already sworn to himself he wasn’t going to keep buying underwear because he didn’t feel like doing laundry, so he’d naturally have to wash those incrementally.

And it made him feel better, as he knew it would. He’d done laundry, made progress on reclaiming his bedroom, had cleaned up his little boxes though he missed their companionship terribly. Law even tried watching the show that Bepo and Shachi had recommended.

It made him feel like some kind of ant, in the best way possible, slowly chipping away at a potato chip that was unfathomably bigger than his body. If not for his own sake but for the other ants, in the best way possible, in the colony. Look at these crumbs, Law the Ant says, look at how delicious they are and filling too. Please do not be mad at me because the rest of the chip is back there uneaten, or whatever this metaphor calls for, please sit at the lunch table and talk about your awful, just God awful, TV show. I swear I like your company.

“I don’t like Little Big Things Like These Objects,” Law announced to the dinner table the next day. It was rare that they could all manage to get together like this and he had made sure to respond in the group chat while they coordinated. (Taking that he had discussed it where he could see as an olive branch). But their gathering lead to a problem. He had been up to nothing that he could share (with dignity, at least), except watching their awful, just God awful, TV show.

“Oh come on,” Bepo whines. “Is it the romance?”

“I told you the romance sucks,” Penguin says. “They’re not believable.”

“They’re—you’re only three episodes in,” Shachi says. “You need to give them a chance. It looks like they don’t have chemistry but I swear they do. How far did you make it?”

“One,” Law said.

Penguin points at Law, “See?”

“You two don’t have a romantic bone in your bodies,” Shachi complained to Law and also Penguin, his boyfriend of five years.

“She’s annoying,” Penguin said. Law nodded in agreement and Penguin’s brows perked up. “So you actually watched?”

“Yes,” Law said. “But only the one.”

“Give it until episode five, both of you, and then you can quit.”

Law and Penguin made eye contact over their pork meatloaves.

“Fine.”

“Sure.”

Their bond over disliking Little Small Objects That Are Big acted as a bandage and Law and Penguin stopped avoiding each other. It was a relief for both of them because, of the physicians who worked the graveyard in the ER, they could both only stand each other. By the time they were done working in the ER, hocking patients off to the various specialists upstairs, they’re in agreeable enough regards that they walk to the station together. Law missed the nicotine but found Penguin’s company far more satiating than any cigarette.

“Hogback still giving you shit?” Penguin asked once they were on the train.

“Every day,” Law said. Law had gone to nicer schools and graduated with more prestigious honors than Hogback, but they were both working graveyard shifts in the same gutter of a hospital. This amused Hogback, who Law was convinced was Evil. Also, he kept alluding to Law being gay, which was entirely inappropriate in the workplace, even if he happened to be right, which was entirely annoying.

“You could report him,” Penguin said.

“What for?”

“Being an annoying prick.”

“HR knows that already,” Law said. Everyone who met Dr. Hogback shared the same opinion. Hogback could easily be the most despised man on the planet if he didn’t opt into the graveyard shift so he could spend his days masturbating to the posters of some starlet from the 80s. And besides, HR would never fire him because, as hospital workers, they were generous of spirit and to fire Hogback would be to unleash him upon the rest of Earth. No, it was better that he stayed in containment, annoying Law to his freaky little heart’s content.

“One little report about the homophobia is all it’d take,” Penguin said.

“I don’t want to tell them I’m gay.”

“Well you don’t have to disclose that.”

“Then it’d look like I’m homophobic for being insulted about the insinuation,” Law said.

“True,” Penguin said. Then he said, “Do you care if they think you’re homophobic? How long are you going to work here?”

Law shrugged, “How long are you?”

“I’ve been applying,” Penguin said. Law’s heart bottomed out, five days without him had been unbearable. Bepo worked as a X-ray technician floors away from the ER and worked days on top of that. Shachi was working as a pediatric nurse in the building across the street from the ER. That he crossed the sky bridge to visit them for meals occasionally was due to his status as a saint, and he often had spells of busyness that made even that untenable for weeks at a time.

“Private?” Law asked.

“Nah, the teaching hospital in Drum and the children’s hospital over on Little Garden.”

“You like working at hospitals after all?” Law asked. They had done some of their rotations in med school together and Penguin had found hospitals a generally distasteful place to work.

“I don’t like the politics of a private practice,” Penguin said. “Maybe in the future but for now we have all got to get out of here.” He nudged his shoulder against Law’s. “We can do better.”

Law hummed in agreement. He had set out to be a surgeon but had landed at West Blue through no fault of his own. His fist clinched at the thought, and tighter at the sharp memories that arose alongside it.

Penguin, perhaps realizing that he’d poked the precise nerve he had been avoiding, changed the subject, “You should come with us to karaoke. I saw that you had the 2nd and the 3rd off.”

Not for the first time, Law cursed the giant dry-erase board with the physicians' rotation schedules that constantly gave away his days off to Penguin.

“No,” Law said.

“Come out on the 2nd when you have plenty of energy, recover and get back on the routine on the 3rd.” Penguin carried on, like Law hadn’t spoken. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t want to sing.”

“Then don’t.”

“No.”

“Just come, have a few drinks, laugh at Shachi’s tone deafness. It’ll be fun. You love laughing at people.”

Law sucked on his lips. He did love laughing at people.

“No.”

“C’mon, hot food, some beers, I’m sure there’s some guy you can ogle.”

“No.”

“You can leave early if you need to.”

“I’ll suck to be around.”

“So?”

Penguin’s words from the previous week replayed in his mind. Going out would be another piece of the chip. And a not insignificant part of him wanted, desperately, to be out of his nightmare apartment just for one night.

“I won’t sing,” Law said.

“You can’t sing anyways.”

“I will laugh at Shachi.”

“He’s immune to humiliation.”

“I’ll probably leave early.”

“Who wants to be on the train after last call, anyways?”

“I’ll suck to be around.”

“At least you’ll be around.”

This was how Law wound up unpacking every single bag of his laundry to find his going out clothes, repacking the bag he found them in, and hauling it to the washateria. He even went as far as hanging the clothes up in his closet, which also had a mountain of laundry and a bunch of other crap that he had to pull out of the closet and put on his bed and the floor of his room, but it cleared up space for him to put his laundry in the future. He was constantly telling his patients to take baby steps and he was no hypocrite, of course.

But when he got to Kamabakka he decided to leave. It was packed tighter than a tin of fish and it was loud as all hell. Nobody was on the mic yet and it was doubtful they’d be heard above the animated chatter. Unfortunately for Law he crashed right into Bepo, whose hug was warm and enthusiastic.

“C’mon, they’re already inside somewhere.” Bepo hauled Law into the bar by his elbow and, because he could see above the crowd, made a beeline to a table where Penguin and Shachi already sat. Their ankles were crossed together but they unhooked them when they saw Bepo and Law approaching.

“Boo, PDA,” Bepo said jokingly. Then he reported, “He was trying to leave.”

“Boo,” Penguin and Shachi decried, and gave him a thumbs down.

“Shirley Temple for you,” Shachi said to Bepo. He handed Law a mug, “And an IPA for you.”

The four of them toasted to nothing, really, or maybe to each other’s company. The crowded bar was decorated with ribbons of rainbow streamers hung from the ceiling, and the walls were adorned with posters of drag queens who had performed in Kamabakka over the years. Law admittedly liked the dozens upon dozens of disco balls hanging from the ceiling, which came in all shapes and sizes. Like a heart, a seahorse, an amorphous blob. In truth, Law liked Kamabakka, and he’d liked it more just about seven months ago before he’d been reduced to a smelly depressed protein drinking slob.

“Did you watch anymore of Little Big Things Like These Objects?” Bepo asked.

“No,” Law and Penguin sharply chorused.

Shachi shook his head, “Cynics!” His cheeks were already red and he leaned over the table to review the tablet on their table. “What are we going to sing?”

“We should do Bop to the Top,” Bepo said.

Shachi put them in the queue to sing together. The digital list that was sent to the MC booked up quickly, due to the sheer volume of people, so Shachi scored a solo song five slots later. They filled up their night with solo performances and in each combination of duos possible, and one big group song. Nobody asked Law to sing, which warmed his heart. When they were finished booking their slots, they politely surrendered their table, so another group could use the tablet and seize a couch with a view of the stage.

“Hey!” Someone said. He hopped over the chair that was next to the couch and landed in the seat with a loud POP. “Do you mind if me and my friends sit in these other chairs? We’re cool, I swear.”

“Sure,” Bepo said because he possessed a kindness within that Law envied normally and despised at times like this. “We’re cool too.”

“I’ll say!” The man, the boy really, said and then stood on the chair to wave his arms for his friends. “HEY OVER HERE!!”

Penguin, Shachi, and Law exchanged looks. The looks said, respectively: Oh that’s nasty. He is the loudest human on human record. I want to leave.

“Do you guys want fried mushrooms?” Bepo asked, oblivious.

“Oh! We eat here for free, we can order some stuff for you guys.” The man, the boy really, slammed back down on the chair. “They have really good onion rings and sliders.”

“Sliders sound good,” Shachi said. Above all else he was cheap and would not turn down the opportunity to eat for free. “Right guys?”

“Luffy,” a girl said, her tone admonishing. “Don’t scream in the bar.”

The boy, really, shrugged, “I found us seats. They’re cool.”

“You just met them,” the girl said.

The boy, Luffy, said, “Yeah but they said it’s cool.”

“Really it’s fine,” Bepo said.

The girl looked at them, chiefly at Law’s hands, and raised a perfectly manicured brow, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Bepo beamed. “We were just thinking about ordering something.”

“Oh, we eat free here. Have you tried their mozzarella sticks?” The girl sat down in one of the loveseats.

Another girl emerged from the fray and took the other seat on the love seat. “Hi,” she said a little awkwardly. “I’m Vivi.”

“Oh, I’m Bepo, this is Shachi and Penguin, and that’s Law.” They each raised their hands at their names.

“Have you not introduced yourselves?” Vivi asked, though there wasn’t any heat. “This is Luffy and this is Nami.”

“I was telling them about the free food.” It was obvious from her inflection that Nami had already been drinking tonight. She further emphasized, “Free.”

“I love Free,” Shachi.

“Oh we’re going to get along,” Nami purred. “Do you mind if we put our songs in first?”

“Not a problem!” Bepo said. “We only just got here ourselves.”

Luffy stood on his chair again and waved his arms, though he didn’t scream this time.

Two men carrying a handful of drinks each, approached the couches.

“For you Nami, my sweet. And for Vivi,” said one of them. He was wearing a suit and a tie with the knot undone and a light dusting of glitter on his cheeks which matched Vivi’s own.

“Luffy, stop standing on the furniture,” the other man said. He handed Luffy a beer, which he downed almost instantly. He handed Luffy a second beer, seemingly prepared for that eventuality, and took a seat.

“This is Sanji and that’s Usopp. Guys this is Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, and Law.”

Law opted out of the waving this time. Still Usopp’s eyes found the tattoos and he gave Law a hesitant once over. Sanji disappeared and reappeared with a tablet and the group, as Law’s friends had, select their songs and who paired off with who for what.

“Do you guys want to do a song together?” Luffy asked and because he directed the question to Bepo they very much did.

“You are going to sing yourself hoarse,” Penguin said, unable to turn off the ENT within.

“Ah, it’ll be fine.”

“Free food?” Shachi asked and made a show of rubbing his stomach.

“Right,” Vivi said.

Between the nine of them—well eight, Law didn’t request anything—they ordered enough food that Law doubted they’d be able to get it to all fit on the table in front of them. Sanji ran off with their order anyways and returned with another drink for himself and Penguin, who had finished his.

The first person who went on stage delivered the most awful rendition of Immigrant Song in the history of mankind. It was breathless and off-key the whole way through, but his friends enthusiastically howled along from somewhere else in the bar and Law realized that coming was truly a mistake. He couldn’t enjoy the company of these generous strangers and he couldn’t bring himself to find humor at the buzzed performer’s expense. In fact it was the opposite. Law felt himself seethe with jealousy. Not at their talent, no, but at their ability to feel comfortable in their skin. At their ability to enjoy themselves with their friends. Law downed his IPA as the sounds of the buzzing crowd gave way to a laugh that he couldn’t claw out of his ears if he tried.

Still, he stayed and tried. That had been their agreement, after all. Law would suck to be around but he would be around. When Sanji returned with trays of food balanced on his arms and head, Law accepted his replacement IPA and a mozzarella stick. And when Shachi and Bepo sang their duet he cheered to the best of his ability. It was a genuine relief when Penguin and Luffy cheered for them so loudly that it drowned out the ghostly laughter and made up for Law’s own impotent attempts at support.

“Nice stickers,” Penguin said to Luffy when the guys were done. Luffy had whipped out his phone to record them and his case was lined with stickers of various countries. Some of them were peeling but the newest one, which said Peru and had what Law thought was a Tunki on it, had that new sticker shine to it.

“Thanks! I’m not a big souvenirs guy so I pick one up at the airport.”

“Oh that’s awesome, do you travel a lot?”

“Oh yeah, I love it!” Luffy hopped into the space where Bepo had been seated and showed Penguin, and Law, his Instagram account. Most of the pictures were of the places he went, though he occasionally took a selfie with only his eyes and the brim of a ratty straw hat showing. The views were incredible and he’d been anywhere and everywhere and done everything. Snowboarding in Japan, mountain climbing in South America, backpacking in South East Asia. The captions were all punctuation-less paragraphs about his days or how his trip was going since the last time he checked in.

He spoke animatedly as he regaled them with stories of his travels, just as proud of the weird birds he saw as the beautiful views. He indulged them with stories of the foods he tried and the locals he met, some of which were pictured some of which were not. Penguin asked him questions, fascinated, and Law did not shove him away, fascinated as well.

“It’s locked but I can add you. I’m about to go back to the South-East and do something called the Banana Pancake trail.” Luffy said, when he was done.

“Where is that?” Penguin asked, already pulling out his phone to follow Luffy.

“A bunch of different countries. Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia. You can do everything for super cheap which is great because I’m always broke. Have you ever traveled?”

“Oh, we went to Brazil after we graduated.”

“My dad was born in Curitiba! Did you go to Brazil too, Law?”

“Yes,” Law said.

And Luffy smiled, pleased, before turning back to his phone to accept Penguin’s follow request. Penguin sprung up when he heard his name and rushed to the stage, leaving Law alone with Luffy. Law was spared from any conversation though because Luffy began to shovel food down his gullet before standing up to cheer on Penguin, as if he’d known him his whole life, as if he didn’t have food in his mouth which he sprayed everywhere much to everyone’s dismay.

“Did you do the Gringo Trail?” Usopp called across the table when they were done cheering for Penguin, who was battling the crowd in order to return to them.

“The Gringo Trail doesn’t go through Brazil!” Luffy answered on Law’s behalf, an impressive feat because he’d just shoved a slider with several fried pickles on it into his mouth. Mouth still full, he collected Law’s empty IPA and disappeared into the crowd.

The words were like acid, but Law made an attempt to answer Usopp, “We just went to Río de Janeiro.”

“Oh it’s beautiful there,” Vivi said. She didn’t seem terribly interested in the conversation Bepo was having with Sanji about how you could just eat flowers in your daily yogurt to Mix Things Up.

“It is,” Law agreed. They’d gone to Brazil and marveled on the rolling green hills and the winding rivers, and gorged themselves on the food, and they’d been happy and young and filled with hope and a bit of worry that their recent graduation would pull them apart. Penguin and Law were to start medical school when they got back and Shachi and Penguin had not yet figured out if occasional drunken hand stuff meant more than what occasional drunken hand stuff typically meant to dumb college kids.

It had all worked out in the end. Until it hadn’t, but that was just for Law. At the very least Penguin and Shachi had moved beyond hand stuff. Presumably.

“You should go somewhere new, like Cambodia with me.” Luffy announced, returning with several drinks in tow.

“I don’t know you,” Law said but he bit back some of the venom because the guy had just bought him a drink.

“So?” Luffy asked. “I’m cool.”

“I work a lot,” Law said, taking a stab at something practical. Though he suspected that Luffy did not truly know the definition of practicality.

“Too much!” Shachi declared. “You should go to Cambodia with this stranger that we met tonight.”

“Not strangers anymore!” Luffy raised his glass and somehow they were all compelled to raise theirs too, even Law, and cheers to nothing, really, or maybe just each other’s company.

And that was how the rest of the night went. The others spoke about anything and everything, in between cheering for each other, and bought each other drinks, with Law refilling Vivi’s vodka Red Bull at one point and Sanji’s Lemon Drop at another. He even did an Irish Slammer with Usopp. None of Luffy’s friends seemed to mind that Law was awful at conversation and he found that he could even tolerate his own behavior. Last call came before they knew it, but the bar manager let their little group remain behind and sing the rest of their songs, skipping urgently through the dozens of songs that wound up in between each of their selected spots. They all, except for Law, wound up on the stage at the end singing a song about going skydiving because you had cancer. Law recorded them and distributed the video into a group chat that he knew he would regret making when he was sober but could not, several beers deep, think of a reason to dodge Nami’s suggestion to make.

“Franky is going to meet us for karaage, do you want to come?” Luffy asked, as if they would know who Franky was.

Law kept on walking out the door, but his collar was snagged by Bepo, whom the question had been directed at. “We’d love to.”

“No,” Law said. He’d agreed to go to karaoke, not karaage. He attempted to twist out of Bepo’s grip but Bepo only pulled him in closer.

“You didn’t eat,” Bepo said under his breath. “I’ll buy.”

“No,” Law said but Bepo was harder to turn down than Penguin, who had already packed into a cab with Shachi and Usopp, who lived in the same neighborhood as them.

Luffy looked at Law and then at Bepo and smiled. “I’ll let him know you’re coming too.”

Bepo didn’t let go of Law’s collar as they marched towards the station with Sanji and Luffy. Bepo and Luffy descend into the subway, while Bepo regaled Luffy with stories about what objects Bepo had found in people’s butts. Law stayed back with Sanji, both of them half hanging down the stairs to listen for the train, and they smoked together in a nice enough silence.

Sanji handed over his lighter when he saw Law looking at it. It was a pretty golden thing with a mermaid on it. “Antique?” Law asked because he did like old stuff.

“Mmm, Luffy got it for me in the markets of Bangkok.” Sanji said and took his lighter back. He smiled at it with gooey fondness before pocketing it.

Law found himself curious about why Sanji ate and drank for free, and got to stay long past last call even when he had strangers hanging out with him. But even drunk, on an empty stomach at that, he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Once upon a time he’d felt as if his depression were a great beast of a thing that lived in the recesses of his mind, whose tendrils occasionally poked through and ruined good moments for him. These days it was the other way around. He was the beast hiding in the darkness, only able to poke through and enjoy Sanji’s quiet company even though Sanji was clearly a talker and would tell him if he’d worked at the bar or was dating the owner or dating Luffy or maybe some odd combination of it all.

The train rolled into the station, saving Law from his spiral, and they rushed down the steps, leaving behind a plume of smoke. The four of them had a cart to themselves and Luffy sat on the back of the chair in front of them, gripping to the overhand bar like a monkey. Sanji admonished him, as Nami had, but it was merely perfunctory. He draped his own legs over the seat in front of him and listened to the rest of Bepo’s story about the guy who came in with a carrot shoved up his ass.

“What a waste of food,” Sanji said darkly.

“Desperate times,” Bepo said, though he didn’t sound swayed by his own words.

“Desperate times call for fingers, not food. We waste 60 million tons of food a year in this country.” Sanji said and shook his head bitterly.

“Oh, that’s a lot.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Are you a…?”

Sanji smiled, “A chef.”

“Oh that makes sense. Where do you work?”

“The Baratie.”

“Sounds fancy,” Bepo said.

“It is,” Luffy said.

“You should come sometime, I can get you a reservation. If you’d like.”

“I would like that,” Bepo said softly. “I’d like that a lot.”

“What about you?” Luffy asked Law.

“Bepo has other friends he can take.”

“No fun,” Luffy said but he smiled as he said it.

“I’m a picky eater,” Law said with a shrug. Sanji made a noise of disapproval but Sanji had fingers to go fuck himself with.

“Did you go to culinary school?” Bepo asked him.

“Yeah, just finished up last year, actually.”

Law twisted sideways in his seat and leaned against Bepo’s soft shoulders and listened to their conversation.

It was dragging closer to four when they left the station and headed to the chicken shop. It was a small place, about midway down a side street that looked more like an alley. There wasn’t a ton of seating, just a few vinyl booths and a few seats at the bar. As they walked in Law spotted an order window with a doorbell. The only other customer at this hour was a blue haired man who was built like a body builder.

“Yo,” he greeted when they entered. “Hachi, brother, they’re here!”

“On it!” A voice, Hachi presumably, called from the other side of a curtain. By the time they’ve piled into the booths, Sanji with Franky, Law with Bepo, and Luffy in a chair he grabbed from outside, the sizzling scent of peanut oil and chicken wafted from behind the curtain.

“I told him to make us some fries too,” Franky said. He took off his sunglasses and looked at Bepo and Law. “I’m Franky.”

“I’m Bepo, this is Law.”

He assessed them, Bepo’s kind and alcohol flushed face, and Law’s unkind and unwashed face, and seemed to find them worthy of a smile. He winked his eye at Luffy, a message sent in a language that Law did not understand.

“Do you like waffle fries?” Sanji asked Law.

“They’re fine.”

Sanji gave him an appraising look and then shrugged before reaching behind his ears, flexing his fingers, and then asking, “Cigarette?”

“Yes.”

They slid out of the booths and stepped back into the humid night. As they smoked in silence, Law contemplated his plastic gas station lighter but figured that he’d probably quit before buying something fancy like Sanji’s. Plus he had a drawer filled with them, since he was always losing one and darting down to the store to replace it only to find it days or weeks later beneath a musty sweater or in his couch cushions, or once interlaced with his rows and rows of protein shake containers.

“Nice ink,” Sanji said when they were near done with their cigarettes. Excellent timing on his part, bravo to Sanji.

“I had a phase.”

“Work doesn’t mind?” Sanji asked. It was possible that Sanji didn’t even know he was a doctor. Law had never asked Penguin his own opinion on this, but he himself found it terribly awkward to tell people that he was a doctor. He wouldn’t volunteer that information readily, sometimes outright lying if the situation called for it, so if Penguin hadn’t shared then Luffy and his friends didn’t know. They didn’t seem to be the types to talk about their jobs anyways, at least not while they were out.

“I wear gloves.”

Sanji chuckled and stubbed his cigarette into the wall and then froze, when he spotted something over Law’s shoulder. Sanji’s lip curled into a sneer, “Hey shithead, guess what today is?”

“Tuesday,” a voice called back. Law turned to see who it was but only saw a red door slam shut.

“I’m not that drunk,” Law said, because it was nearing dawn on Sunday.

“No you’re not,” Sanji said. He stomped down to the red door and jammed his finger into the buzzer. Sanji tossed his head back and yelled, “YOU’RE A PRICK!”

Law urgently relocated to the booth, in front of a nice warm basket of chicken karaage. Someone had gotten him a water too.

“Where’s Sanji?” Luffy asked around a mouthful of squid karaage. Law’s mind lasered onto the tendrils of the little fried squids.

“Arguing with some guy,” Law said. He squeezed a lemon over the chicken and looked up just in time to see the two men making meaningful eye contact, their faces wrinkled into unreadable expressions. Luffy and Franky wordlessly rushed to join Sanji outside, leaving Bepo and Law to awkwardly pick at their foods.

“This is why you don’t talk to strangers,” Law said.

“We don’t know the context. Plus you like them too.”

Law opened his mouth to refute this but found that he couldn’t. Truthfully he did like Luffy and his friends. He liked their closeness, the familiarity between them. The whole night had felt like lightning in a bottle. Only Luffy’s friends would be so welcoming and generous, and only Law’s friends would be so reciprocating and eager. The group chats, the Instagrams, the promises of restaurant reservations, the goading into trips—that he wouldn’t be going on—it all felt like a promise. This wouldn’t be the last they saw of each other and he didn’t know if he was sober enough to see that through the haze or just drunk enough to believe it.

When Franky (sober) dropped Law back at his apartment across town just before dawn it was with a promise to see him around and soon. He watched Franky’s rusty tow truck retreat and walked down to the park in his neighborhood, where he draped himself against the iron railing of the boardwalk. Law smoked the last of his cigarettes and watched the sunrise, the plumes of nicotine mixing with the vapors of his breath in the crisp spring air.

The sunlight turned the river waters the shade of a clementine and the soft waves made it look smudgy, like an oil painting…maybe. He hadn’t paid much attention in his art appreciation class in high school and had taken film as his art elective in undergrad. It was a shame because he was left with no language to speak of the sunrise, of how it made him feel, but it didn’t really matter because he had no one to share his words with even if he had.

But it was beautiful, it really was, and even if he never saw Luffy and his kind friends again it was a nice ending to the night.

Chapter Text

The next day, of course, was terrible. In his waning twenties he could no longer handle a night of drinking, especially not on an empty stomach. He spent his morning in his putrid bathroom, confronted face-to-face with just how much he’d neglected cleaning his toilet bowl. He elected to skip cleaning it in favor of writhing around on his couch in geriatric agony. His stomach hurt, his head hurt, even his elbow was bruised somehow. Law was overjoyed to check their group chat and see that the other guys felt more or less the same way.

In university, where they’d all met, they had been able to go out to the bars and drink to their heart’s content. So many of their weekends in undergrad had been spent getting drunk in strange bars and smoking weed that wasn’t theirs. Now they were getting old, slowly marching to the grave. Their bones were turning to dust, even. Or at least Law’s were.

He managed to drag his dusty bones to the halal stand up the street and order shawarma, which tasted better going down than it did coming back up an hour and a half later. He didn’t bother servicing his headache. His aspirin was better used on the mornings he had a migraine before work. Instead he brushed his teeth for the fourth time that morning and hopped into his shower.

His shower was a funny thing. The handle came off if he pulled it at the wrong angle, or at the wrong speed, or at various stages of the lunar cycle. The tiles on the wall were uneven and the grout was prone to falling out. It also had hot water for exactly four minutes and twenty-three seconds. No more and no less. He had timed it several times, under various conditions. As another means of meeting himself where he was, Law kept a magic eraser on the alcove next to his soap and used it to spot clean occasionally. He only needed to clean the mosaic floor with bleach every once in a while. He didn’t mind when it was dirty, because the dirt covered up the playing card pattern. That was the funny part.

Once he was done Law shook his couch cushions off and swept up everything that gathered in a shameful pile, laid down, and promptly fell asleep.

It was a wretched and restless sleep. He dreamt that he was in a patchwork hospital, made up of hospital rooms that he had both worked in and laid in, with an IV stuck in his arm and a cannula in his nostrils. When he became aware that he was dreaming he asked himself to wake up before Doflamingo showed up and of course he came, as if summoned, if not literally so. Law managed to wake up when the gun came out in his break room but not before hearing his laughter.

It was only 7pm.

Law made another pass at eating, this time with cup noodles, and had another stab at Small ObjectsThat Are Large.

7:45pm—i want them to get a divorce

8:02pm—they re supposed to be married ??????????????

Law retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his freezer and climbed onto the fire escape. This was technically forbidden but he didn’t do it often enough for anyone to notice, nor care. It was only enjoyable because the dozens of bars in his neighborhood were mostly empty or otherwise closed on a Sunday night. Law watched the sunset and smoked and smoked and smoked until he was sick again, before returning to into his musty apartment and going back to sleep.

“I’m going to the Baratie,” Bepo announced two weeks later over their cafeteria dinner. Law had forgotten about Sanji’s invitation, which he’d dismissed at the time as empty anyways. Though he had not been able to forget about Luffy and his friends, who were now a perpetual nuisance in his phone, via a group chat that he was added back to whenever he tried leaving.

It was only a matter of time before Bepo went out with one of them. Penguin had already gone out to coffee with Usopp and Shachi to the rock climbing gym with Luffy.

“With who?”

“With you.”

“No,” Law said. His only meals these days were the ones where he was dragged to the cafeteria by whichever friend, and they involved a lot of moving things around to make them seem eaten. He hadn’t even been able to regrow his collection of protein shake cartons. Law couldn’t imagine going to a fancy restaurant like the Baratie and being presented with several courses. “Bepo, they use a lot of bread in french cooking.”

“Sanji gave us the chef’s table on Tuesday and said there wouldn’t be any bread or plum sauce in sight. He’s very passionate about food waste. He volunteers at the food bank.”

“I work Tuesday,” Law said.

“No you don’t.”

And, because he had been caught in a lie, Law was obligated to go.

This, of course, meant digging through trash bags of shit that should really be in his closet, finding his formal wear, and hauling it down to the gross washateria. While there he engaged in unwilling conversation with a man who was getting a divorce but was unhappy about it and who was losing visitation of his children to boot, but was okay with that. His kids were reportedly cute but the girl had an attitude and the boy’s a bit of a girl, if you know what I’m saying. Say, can I have one of your cigarettes? My new girlfriend wants me to quit.

Law’s pants and his button down weren’t meant to go through the dryer but he sent them through anyway, hoping that they would shrink. They hadn’t. Law was forced to safety pin the waist of his charcoal chinos because his belt wasn’t resilient enough to hold the pants up on its own. Still, the pants looked nice and so was the shirt, though he had to resew the bottom button.

Putting together his outfit made him feel more like himself. He even retrieved his earrings from the protein shake drawer, where he’d discarded them after karaoke.

He took the train to Bepo’s decidedly better neighborhood and Bepo drove them to the Baratie . (Law did not have any updates about his experience watching Things That Are Big and Small.) The restaurant was on the riverwalk but Sanji had booked their parking too. Bepo gushed about how kind Sanji was and how much he liked Nami and Luffy too as he drove them in corkscrews up the parking garage.

The riverwalk itself was packed. They were unable to speak to each other as they followed the occasional sign to the Baratie. Along the way they passed restaurants filled with sizzling fajitas, tourist shops with monogrammed keychains, and novelty shops filled with plushies. Boats with tourists on architecture tours buzzed by. They stopped to watch a fire dancer perform because they were running a little early.

“Law?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for coming.”

“I’m sorry.” Law swallowed hard and focused on the flaming rope in front of them. There was so much to say, but all he got out was, “I’m trying.”

“I know,” Bepo said. “We know.”

The performer made a figure eight and the crowd cheered. He made a heart and they cheered louder, amazed. How did he do it? They all whispered. Law didn’t know. This was another beautiful moment for which he had no words but he didn’t need them, not with Bepo, who smiled back at him and ushered them down the riverwalk.

“Oh, it’s a boat.” Indeed it was. The Baratie was a fishing barge that had been renovated extensively. It was two stories tall with palladian windows lining the second floor, offering a view of the cloth covered tables, the already seated guests, and a white grand piano. Rows of string lights decorated the deck, interspersed with white wisteria. A carpet was rolled out on the pier, at the end of which stood a hostess beneath an arch with a koi fish on it.

“You didn’t know?” Law asked once he had taken it all in.

“Luffy said it was fancy so…I mean boats are fancy. Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Law asked.

“I know you can’t swim-”

“I doubt it’ll capsize, Bepo.”

With any potential situation smoothed over they approached the hostess who found them on the list and lead them up the gang plank. A second hostess passed them on the way down and took the names of the couple who had approached behind Law and Bepo. While the second hostess lead her guests to the upstairs seating, Law and Bepo’s hostess lead them into the kitchen on the first floor. Law and Bepo exchanged looks, but like the riverwalk, they were forced to walk single file, past bakery racks which were stacked with baskets upon baskets of sliced breads and rows of aerating reds. On the other side of the racks Law could see the kitchen staff rushing about, with one cussing profusely at another about al dente pasta.

The waitress brought them into a side room. One side was lined with massive metal refrigerators, the other wall had a washer and dryer, with instructions on how to wash the table cloths and the dinner napkins both printed and written, for no discernible reason. A metal table sat in the center, half of which was occupied by a welded on rack. If Law had to guess, it was where the dinner linens went when they weren’t in use. The other half of the table had five bar stool seats, two of which were occupied by a woman with dark hair in a neat French twist and by Franky.

“Super happy to see you guys!” Franky was wearing a bright red button down and like Law he had forgone a tie, which Law had thought would’ve been a bigger issue. Encouraged by Franky’s state of dress, Law unbuttoned his top few buttons and instantly felt better.

“Hi Franky!” Bepo said and took a seat. “Wow, chef’s table indeed.”

“Indeed, brother. This is my fiance, Robin. Robin these are those guys Luffy met at Sanji’s birthday. Bepo and Law.”

“Sanji’s what?” Bepo cried. “He didn’t say!”

“He’s shy,” Franky said gravely.

The woman, Robin, smiled. She reached her hand out to Law, who’d taken the seat across from her. “It’s nice to meet you. Luffy is very excited about your trip to Cambodia, it’s all he can talk about.”

“I-” Law said. He turned to Bepo. “I didn’t agree to that, right?”

“You didn’t,” Bepo confirmed.

Robin only chuckled.

Sanji entered the room with four upside down wine glasses pinched between his fingers, and a bottle hooked in his arm. He beelined for Robin. “I’m so happy you came, my dear!”

He flowed through the air with grace of a dancer to come up beside Robin, who happily accepted a kiss on the hand. “This is a dry riseling, it’s chilled.”

“Thank you Sanji,” she said.

“We disembark in ten,” Sanji said. He yanked a cork screw from a magnetic strip on the wall and stuck it in the wine bottle, before retrieving a bucket of ice from one of the fridges behind Law. He smiled at Bepo as he poured him a glass, “I couldn’t get you a reservation but this is the better experience.”

“Of course, I’m just excited to try the food. Thank you.”

“No bread,” Sanji said to Law. “I told Carne.”

“Thanks,” Law said. Though he had no idea who Carne was.

“Okay, I’m off, I’ll check in when I can.” He straightened his tie and left. Almost immediately Law could hear him yelling, breaking up the still ongoing fight over pasta.

“Is he the chef?” Bepo asked Franky.

“The sous chef.”

“Ooh fancy,” Bepo said.

The three guys were left to pour their own glasses, after which they toasted again.

“Do you guys do this often?” Bepo asked after he was done looking around the room.

“Occasionally, it makes for a fun date night.” Robin smiled. “It’s nice to see the entrails of something like the Baratie.”

“ Ah, such vivid imagery babe,” Franky admonished but his eyes were filled such fondness that there was no real heat to it.

Besides—”It’s okay we work in a hospital”—they both had morbid humor from working in a hospital.

“Ah, I hear a dark sense of humor comes with the trade,” Robin said to Bepo. “What do you do for Zoro.”

“Pardon?” Bepo asked.

Both Franky and Robin were staring, open mouthed, at a person who Law couldn’t see around the welded rack.

“Hey,” a voice said. “Sorry, uh, getting here is such a pain.”

“No, I mean, we’re just happy you...to see you that is.” Robin stood out of her chair to hug the approaching man, Zoro.

Law and Bepo exchanged glances that didn’t go unnoticed by Franky but he turned away before any further assessment could be made.

“We didn’t know you were coming brother.”

“Zeff invited me,” Zoro said. Law could see him now. There was a paper bandage over his left eye and a dark purple shadow under the right one. A pair of sunglasses were perched on his head, resting upon a nest of messy black hair. His shirt was buttoned all the way to the top, seemingly too tight around his neck. He also just so happened to be the most gorgeous man that Law had ever seen.

“Guys this is Zoro, Zoro these are the friends we made at karaoke,” Franky said after everyone had been quiet for a beat too long.

“Nice to meet you,” Zoro said. He took the seat at the end of the table, next to Law and Robin.

“Likewise,” Bepo offered.

The ship rocked once and they began to move.

“I believe I was asking what you two did for work. If you don’t mind me being so forward,” Robin said.

Fuck.

“Not at all! I brought it up first. I’m an Xray tech at West Blue and Law is the cardiac specialist in the ER.”

All five of them looked down at Law’s hand tattoos.

“Gloves,” Law said simply.

“What about you guys?” Bepo asked, used to filling in the spaces left by Law’s curtness. He smiled, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I’m getting my doctorate at Ohara.”

“I work in Auto-body repair.”

“I’m mooching off the government,” Zoro said.

For the first time in his life, it was Law’s laughter that diffused the situation. Well it wasn’t a laugh, more of a “ Tt ” of approval. Zoro looked at Law but his face was unreadable. Law didn’t look away.

“What’s your doctorate in?” Bepo asked.

“I’m studying the history of fascistic government’s suppression of literacy in the working class. Not to get political,” Robin said.

“I doubt any of us support fascists,” Law said. They all looked at each other, as if assess each other’s stance of fascistic governments. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “How fascinating. As a means to rise to power or maintain it?”

“Both, my thesis is ongoing. I started it off with the idea that an illiterate population may be unable to organize cohesively and even consent to their own oppression but my research is proving otherwise.” She drummed her nails on the metal table. “Or maybe not. I’m sure you’re familiar with the process, as a doctor. If I’m understanding correctly.”

“I am,” Law said. They all looked at Law’s hands again.

“Do you bulk buy gloves?” Zoro asked.

“The hospital provides them.” He wore thick linen gloves while working and if he needed to change into latex gloves his patients in the ER likely weren’t looking at his hands.

“Ah, so you mooch.”

“I’m sure they get a nicer discount than me,” Law said.

Zoro put his hands up, as if in surrender. The movement was stilted on one side. Zoro noticed Law noticing, and so they sat there noticing each other.

A man entered the room with a tray. “How are you folks doing tonight?”

“Great Carne, how are you?” Franky asked.

“Pretty great.” He did not look great, he looked furious. “I’ve got some Coquilles St. Jacques for you all.”

Law had no idea what he’d just said but it looked delicious. Three seared scallops sat atop a clam shell, doused in butter and melted cheese. Before Law could ask Carne how they were meant to eat it the cook (judging by his attire) disappeared and, like Sanji, immediately started screaming furiously at the top of his lungs about pasta.

“I’ll get us some utensils,” Robin said and darted away.

“I’m already really impressed,” Bepo said. His mouth was practically watering.

“Eating down here is super, you don’t have to dress like a monkey but you get the fancy food.”

“You don’t get to hear Brook,” Zoro said.

“Mmm, true.”

“Brook?” Bepo asked. He was eyeing the scallops with a ravenous eye. Robin didn’t hurry back soon it was likely that he would eat the scallops with his fingers.

“The lounge singer upstairs,” Zoro said.

Robin returned with the utensils and a wine glass for Zoro and they got to work eating their fancy scallops. The shellfish melted in his mouth. Law had to close his eyes to savor it properly. When he was done chewing on his first scallop he tilted his head back, up at the fine dining above them. The room they were in was cramped and a bit hot, but Law agreed with Franky. This was the better experience.

“Son of a-,” Franky cut himself off.

“I want to eat it so fast but I want to savor it too,” Bepo said.

“I feel the same.” Robin’s enjoyment was subdued but still present.

Zoro didn’t share his opinion on the appetizer, but like the rest of him he scraped the clam shell to the very last drop.

“Congrats on the engagement, by the way. How did you two meet?” Bepo asked once their plates and clam shells had been stacked off to the side.

“Oh thank you! We met through Luffy,” Robin said with a smile.

The night progressed forward like that. Delicious foods were placed in front of them, each course eliciting more swear words as more wine was poured as more facts were shared. Like how Franky co-owned his autoshop with his brother, about Robin’s recent trip to Berlin and how Law’s parents were from Annaburg, and that Bepo and Franky both loved Large and Small Objects.

Zoro only spoke when spoken to and more than once his response had been so short that he’d flustered and expanded upon his thought when his friends were taken aback. Law happily refilled his wine glass throughout the night but otherwise didn’t speak to him. The awkward pauses and accidental rudeness, paired with Franky and Robin’s shock to see him, made Law sympathetic. Their situation’s couldn’t possibly be similar enough to be worth comparing, but Law did understand one thing: Sometimes you showed up, even if you were going to suck to be around.

Heavy footsteps approached their alcove at the end of the night. A man with a hat that seemed a tad bit too large and a braided mustache squeezed into the tight space, balancing a tray high over his head (but about even with the top of that admittedly impressive hat).

“How did we like the menu tonight?”

“It was wonderful,” Robin answered. “Zeff, this is Bepo and Law.”

“Ah the singers,” he said. He placed a couple of plates in front of all of them, “These are Mont Bloncs, and that is a tomato tart.”

Zoro squirmed in his seat as he examined his dish, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, can’t have you stickin’ your nose up at my food.” Zeff’s eyes lingered on Zoro for a beat, before he cleared his throat. “We’re docking soon but stick around, we’re taking her back out for a whirl to watch the fireworks.”

They eat their desserts and finish their wines, and the customary exchanging of social media takes place. Law pretends he doesn’t have one, even though he liked Robin well enough. Overhead there was a loud stomping of feet as the patrons get in line to disembark the ship. A new cook brought each course of their meal that night, proudly boasting of its contents. The final chef of the night brings no food, he only pokes his head through the door and says, “C’mon.”

They once again walked single file through the outer perimeter of the kitchen (though it’d technically be a galley, Law supposes). Law and Zoro wound up in the rear as they walked up stairs. Zoro leans forward to speak in a voice that only Law can hear, “Most of the time it’s docked but they have boat trips twice a month. They bring it back out so they can enjoy the view while they clean up and bitch about customers.”

“Tt ”

Zoro clapped him on the shoulder, entirely unnecessary and way too familiar, and jogged ahead, calling to the stage in the dining room, “Oi, Brook.”

“Zoro!” Brook was a tall man with a cloud of kinky hair atop a long face. He was rail thin, with his skin pulled tight across a narrow face making him look almost skeletal under the now dimmed stage lights. Though his tone was chipper, he also wore an expression of hesitancy. The same as Robin, the same as Franky, and the same as each of the cooks who brought them their plates.

So far the only ones who hadn’t been shocked or uncomfortable to see Zoro were Zeff, who’d invited him, and Sanji, who had not seen him yet. Where the sous chef had gone was unclear.

Zeff was at the front of the room, pouring wine into a table full of glasses. He handed them over to each guest who accepted it graciously, except for Zoro who held his hand up and said, “I’ve had enough.”

Law thought it was an innocuous enough statement. Zoro had drank about three glasses already, but everyone, even one of the nearby bus boys, seemed shocked. Worst yet, Brook’s long fingers stumbled, missing keys in the little ditty he was playing. Zeff handed the glass to Carne, who seemed uncertain what to do with two glasses of wine.

Sanji arrived then, making the awkward moment immediately worse. His fingers froze where they were yanking furiously at his tie. Zoro attempted to say something but his greeting died midair, landing on the floor with a wet smack. Brook quickly began to play on the piano again and Bepo turned to Robin, “Did you do your undergrad at Ohara?”

“Yes and my masters too,” Robin said. Her owlish eyes lingered on Sanji though.

“And do you teach?”

“Oh, yes,” Robin said. “Yes, I teach an intro to global studies course. It’s not what everyone would choose, but I find that a good foundation is important.”

“I agree, I didn’t go to the best high schools so my intro courses were really helpful.” Bepo said, so earnest and so helpful. Robin smiled and they clinked the rims of their wine glasses.

The sound snapped Sanji out of his blank faced stupor and he turned to Law, “Smoking section’s outside.”

Law obediently followed him back down stairs and onto the deck. They leaned against the railing. Sanji seemed interested in the city lights but Law’s eyes were drawn to the lights and the wisteria hanging overhead.

“It’s a nice restaurant, thank you for inviting us.” Law said eventually because one of them probably needed to say something. Bepo certainly would. Though Sanji’s mouth was turned into such a harsh frown that it didn’t seem worth it.

“This is everything that old man dreamed of,” Sanji said. He took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled sharply through his nose.

The conversation was so awkward that Law couldn’t maintain it if he tried and he didn’t really care to. It was obvious that he’d been used as a polite exit. When Law looked back at the wisteria his eyes snagged on Zoro, who was walking down the stairs and awkwardly pulling his pants up. He’d lost weight recently or maybe bought pants that were too large for his belt to provide any real assistance. Again Law, unable to ever truly turn It off, noticed that the movement was stiff in one of Zoro’s arms. Law let his gaze linger for a little too long, transfixed by the way the light hit Zoro’s surprisingly delicate features.

Law figured it was fine if he stared. If pressed he could just say he got early seating to watch the car crash.

Sanji saw Zoro and shook his head.

“Happy Birthday,” Zoro said and produced a small envelope from his pocket.

Sanji held his hand up. “I don’t want anything from you.”

He walked right past Zoro and back up the stairs, his lit cigarette still in hand.

If Law could swim he’d throw himself off the side of the ship.

“Bad breakup?” Law asked.

“God is that what we look like?” Zoro shook his head, his mouth twisted into a disdainful frown. “No, I missed his birthday. I’m uh, I’m the prick from the other week.”

“Oh,” Law said. Then he remembered Sanji’s screaming fit at the chicken shop. “Oh.”

Zoro looked back at Sanji and then turned to Law, “Do you want a Sephora gift card?”

“I wouldn’t have any use.”

Zoro pocketed the gift card again and pressed his back to the railing. He probably didn’t want to talk either so Law focused on his cigarette. He needed to quit. His visits to the smoking section kept putting him in ridiculous situations.

Law turned his head just in time to catch Zoro staring. For his part Zoro did not balk. So there they were again, staring at each other. He needed to ask something, like how Zoro had met everyone else (though he suspected that the answer was Luffy). Logically he needed to ask for his number, probably, but Zoro felt like a very nice sculpture. A marvel of human beauty, meant to be admired in a museum and perhaps recalled fondly, but ultimately left behind. Where would he display him? In his musty bedroom? Next to the protein shakes? Certainly not in his kitchen, the bulbs in there had been out for nine months. No this was where Zoro belonged. Illuminated by the twinkling lights, beneath the stars and wind whipped wisteria.

The fireworks started then, startling them both. Law accidentally ashed himself and swore. Zoro laughed at him, a sharp and sudden thing, though not cruel. He tamped his laughter down quickly but a small smile lingered on his mouth. Law twisted around to admire the show.

“They don’t keep the restaurant out long enough for the fireworks?”

“Nah, everyone would get home too late. They get to enjoy it though.” He jerked his chin upstairs.

Inside more of the cooks and wait staff have joined in on the post-work festivities, accompanied by Brook on the piano. Sanji had closed the glass door behind him, so the music was faint. From out on the deck it was more of the idea of a happy song. Law was a little grateful that he got dragged into these stranger’s drama, if it meant he was outside for this. It was nice to watch how happy they all were without being in the middle of it all.

“They were fighting like dogs in that kitchen,” Law said.

“Zeff’s a good boss. Some of them have worked here for over a decade.” Zoro said. “You can fight with family about al dente pasta or whatever the fuck that was about.”

“Sanji is that junior and already the sous chef?” Law didn’t know how chefs worked. Maybe the culinary school made the difference.

“Nepotism. Zeff’s his old man.” Zoro said, his tone guarded. No more Sanji, got it.

The fireworks show was held once a month in the off seasons, but three times a week in the summer. During the summer there was always a variety of boats out on the water, packed with tourists, or much smaller dinner boats that were willing to stay out past midnight. Tonight though they’re practically by themselves. Law and Zoro stay outside for the duration of the fifteen minute show, neither of them saying a word.

When the show is over the Baratie is already headed back into port. The waiters and the kitchen staff disembark with their little group, with the exception of Zeff and Sanji. The group splits further when they head to the marina’s employee parking. Franky, Robin, Bepo, Law, and Zoro all navigate through the barely dispersed crowds of the riverwalk.

“Want a ride?” Franky asked Zoro when they got to the staircase that would lead them to their parking garage. Franky and Robin must’ve parked in the same structure as Bepo.

“I’m good,” Zoro said and kept walking.

“Are you sure? We don’t mind,” Robin said. “I mean the station is-”

“It’s fine,” Zoro said.

“Zoro, bro,” Franky tried again.

“I can still walk, Franky,” Zoro snapped and then he was gone, swallowed whole by the midnight crowd.

Above all else, it was probably for the best that Law and Zoro had not exchanged numbers. It was likely that they’d just put each other through a world of pain.

The ride on the elevator is quiet, not out of discomfort but out of tiredness. Robin and Franky get off five floors before them.

“It was lovely to meet you both,” Robin said. “I’m sure we’ll all be seeing each other soon.”

“You too,” Bepo smiled.

“C’ya,” Franky said just as the door closed.

They wind up behind them again soon enough, following them down the cork screw of the parking structure. They’d come in Robin’s nice vehicle, but the thudding bass of Franky’s music gave them away.

“I can take you all the way home,” Bepo offered when they got back to the street.

“It’s too far, I don’t mind the train ride,” Law said as gingerly as possible, given Zoro’s own awkward departure.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Law said. He tried his best to arrange his lips into a smile.

“Okay,” Bepo said. “It was good. Really good. Plus Brook is a really good musician. Get this, he met Zeff through Luffy too. We have to come back and sit in the dining room, in the summer. Sanji said if I called he’d pencil us in but we have to do it soon or wait until the fall.”

“You should bring Shachi and Penguin,” Law said.

“You didn’t like it?”

“I did, I just think they’d like it too.”

Bepo hummed and turned on a playlist that the four of them started back in university, or rather this year’s edition of it. Back then it’d all been more or less the same music but these days the stark variety of each of their additions made the playlist more novel than it had been back when they were younger. Though, this year, Law had only added seven copies of Shachi’s most hated song and none of his own music. Law actually wasn’t sure if he’d listened to any music this year of his own volition.

Law quickly speaks into the air between them to banish the thought, “Jambon Rouleaux de chèvre”

“Bouillabaisse,” Bepo said, or rather attempted to.

“I’m so glad I’m not French,” Law said.

“German words are not any easier to pronounce,” Bepo said. “No offense of course, it’s just that...well.”

“It’s okay,” Law said, because it was. “You like the swear words,” Law said, because he did.

“Backpfeifengesicht,” Bepo said, or rather attempted to. It wasn’t really a curse word but it sounded like one coming from Bepo so Law nodded approvingly.

Bepo slowed as he rounded the corner to Law’s station. He grabbed onto Law’s forearm before Law could get out of his car.

“You did have fun though, right?” Bepo asked.

“I did,” Law said, because he had.

Bepo did not let go. He wasn’t looking at Law, instead he gazed at a spot over his shoulder. His mouth moved a few times, and his cheeks reddened under the yellow cast of the streetlight.

“Bepo,” Law said.

Bepo opened his mouth, sighed, and said, “You can’t let him win.”

“Bepo,” Law said.

“I know that you’re not...I know that you didn’t want to work at West Blue. I know that your apartment sucks. I know, I know-” Bepo cut himself off and inhaled a shaky breath. There was plenty of time for Law to get out of the car and flee but he was frozen in space as Bepo considered his next words, “You still have us and you’re making new friends, you- you liked Robin and Sanji. It- You can’t let Doflamingo win.”

Law sometimes wished he was a funny man. A more charming man. He would a joke to alleviate the tension, if he were. What humor he did have was a tar black, always at the expense of others. Here’s a German word: Schadenfreude. But there’s no pleasure to be had at Bepo’s expense tonight. So he says the truth, however fragile it is, “I’m trying.”

“I know,” Bepo said. His eyes were watering terribly and Law did not want to hug but he felt like if things kept going on how they were, he was going to have to. Law could not remember the last time he hugged someone. “I can tell.”

There was nothing more to be said. Law stumbled out of Bepo’s car and watched him drive away, his trembling hand outstretched in a wave as Bepo rounded the corner. He descended into the subway and ignored the lingering truth of the matter: Doflamingo had already won.

Chapter Text

Law had recently watched a documentary about the Homo habilis. The Homo habilis was a small tragic creature that lived about 2.3 million years ago. They rarely stood over four feet high, and weighed about 40% less than the average Homo Sapiens. The Homo habilis made scant use of tools and liked to fall out of prehistoric trees. While they were out classed by other human species in intellect and physical capability, they excelled in being used as a chew toy. Most of them died by being speared through the head by an early cousin of the saber tooth tiger, or being torn apart by 25 feet (ca. 8 m) long crocodiles. It was possible that the Homo habilis was too stupid and weak to attack other animals on the land, which would naturally force them to the water (and effectively into the mouth of a crocodile) for fish. For some reason, the Homo habilis had been a carnivore in a period of their genus’ history where being a carnivore was a terrible idea.

Whenever Law was having a bad day, he just reminded himself that the average Homo habilis had lived a miserable and pathetic, just absolutely pathetic, life and that they did not often survive past the age of thirteen. Law had managed to survive past thirteen, when by all accounts he should not have. And really, compared to a lobotomy via saber tooth tiger, a conversation with Hogback was not that bad.

“Perhaps Dr. Traflager could tell you more about anal douching.”

“Respectfully…” From Law’s shaky understanding, it was possible that early human’s adapted stronger visual detection skills to combat prehistoric snakes, whom the early hominid was in an evolutionary arms race with. So to speak. “...it doesn’t take an expert to advise someone not to perform an enema to relieve constipation.”

“Just, as I said,” Hogback clapped his hands together. “Dr. Traflager has more experience in this area. Perhaps you can write up the recommendations sheet for this one?”

Hogback, who was 102 years Law’s senior and likely more experienced in all aspects of medical practice, hobbled away without a confirmation that Law would finish up the discharge paperwork (because that was naturally what was being implied) for a patient who’d had a severe lapse in judgment.

“We’re referring you to Raftael Regional. They have a few Proctologists that your insurance won’t need to approve, but they also have some general practitioners. Your yearly physical is free. They can probably give you something to relieve constipation before it reaches such a dire point.” Law said forty minutes later, which was about an hour and a half after the patient should’ve been in the clear to go home.

“Oh really man? I thought they’d just give me more laxatives or some shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Law said. He was likely apologizing for swearing but on the off chance it was for not going to the doctor for ten years, Law didn’t want to dissuade him with a negative attitude. These types were often afraid of judgment. Law tried his best to present the air of someone who was relaxed, laid back, totally cool with most things, possibly more things than his peers. “Most likely they’ll give you laxatives but there are several other prescriptions they can provide to prevent you from getting a compacted bowel.”

“What’s that? Sorry.”

The Homo habilis was not the dumbest of the human species, just of the humans that were alive at the time. Their nearest neighbor in brain size was the Homo Erectus, which could make various tools such as spears and various scrapers, and knew how to make a controlled fire. The Homo habilis on the other hand knew to bang a rock against bones to break it free from a skeleton, so that it could gnaw on the raw meat. This of course shattered the poor thing’s teeth. Law had excellent teeth.

“She’s good to go home,” Law said. He’d come down to radiology to print out his patient’s charts. There was some kind of issue with the printer on his floor and he didn’t like to use a tablet. Plus, he got to visit Bepo for a few minutes. “You’re going to drop that.”

“That’s good, she seemed nervous.” Bepo said kindly. He was digging into his thermos with a spoon that was a bit too short to combat the dregs of instant coffee at the bottom. “I won’t, I put my finger in it last time. That’s why I dropped it.”

“Aren’t they always nervous? Your thermos is too big. Aren’t you watering down the coffee?”

“Maybe they’re nervous with you. Oh, because you’re the doctor not because you’re scary looking or anything. But, sometimes when they come down here for Chest X-rays, they’re in an okay mood.” Bepo dropped his spoon into his coffee and sighed. “Most of it’s creamer. I don’t like the taste of coffee.”

“No,” Law said a bit too definitively. “You drink too much coffee to not like the taste of it.”

“Well, it’s the only thing that wakes me up.”

“There is no point having a coffee if you don’t even like it. Switch to tea.”

“Not enough caffeine,” Bepo said, blowing on his finger. He’d stuck his fingers into his hot coffee.

“What did you expect? And you should reduce your caffeine tolerance if it’s forcing you to drink a beverage you don’t enjoy. There are teas that are plenty strong enough if you aren’t in taking most of your caffeine through sodas.”

“Not on these hours,” Bepo said. He predictably ignored the comment about soda.

Law couldn’t push him too much further without getting called a hypocrite, so he dropped it. For now. As soon as he’d gained about fifteen pounds they were circling back.

“Did you get the text about Luffy’s party?” Bepo asked. He tried to use the thermos without taking the spoon out and immediately got hit in the lip. “I can’t make it, I have to work that day.”

Law wanted to tell Bepo that he worked too many hours, but Bepo knew that. He didn’t want to encourage Bepo to leave, especially not now that Penguin was on his last week and a half before starting at a private hospital downtown. A selfish piece of him seethed as Law said, as casually as he could, “I heard Raftael Regional is hiring at their new clinic.”

Bepo tried his best to feign apathy, going as far as leaning back in his chair and putting his arms over his head, “Where is it?”

“Red River and 91st. It’s across from that Thai place where I got in that fight with Hawkins.”

“Oh that place…wait what was there before?”

“No idea, not a clinic if that’s what you mean.”

“Hmm,” Bepo said.

Law quickly made a clean escape while Bepo was distracted. He was not going to that party.

The Homo habilis lived in the same area as three other species of humans, Homo ergaster, Homo Erectus, and Homo rudolfensis, which were each better suited for fighting than the weaker, dumber, slower, Homo habilis. The Homo habilis had primarily evolved to live in trees, so all it would take was dragging the Homo habilis to the ground. At which point the larger humans could make easy work of the poor thing. Law was more than capable of rolling around in the dirt.

The walk to the train station was a lonesome and double-edged sword. He’d stayed over two hours to cover a gap in coverage, so there was no Penguin to keep him company. Nor was he there to stop Law from smoking. The Homo habilis had never experienced the relief of a menthol cigarette after a long and arduous day of work.

“Law!” Luffy lunged up from the bench he was sitting on, playing some sort of handheld console. “Man, you get off work late.”

“What the fuck?”

Luffy ignores him in favor of reading his badge, which Law had forgotten to remove.

“Trafal- Trafa- Traffy!” Luffy crams his console into the cargo pocket of his shorts. “Have you been getting the texts about my party?”

“Luffy, it’s 5am. Have you been waiting for me this whole time?”

“Well yeah, because you were ignoring my text about my party. You’re coming right? It’s BYOM.”

“BYOM? You are not getting on this with me.” The ‘this’ was the train coming to a stop in the station. The overhead speaker warbled its arrival but it was hard to hear through the blood rushing through Law’s ears. The Homo habilis, for all its disadvantages, could probably get away, legally speaking, with shoving Luffy in front of an oncoming train.

“Depends,” Luffy said, somehow interpreting Law’s declaration as a question. “Will you agree to come?”

“I haven’t agreed to come because I’m working that day.”

“Which day?” Luffy asked. He was smart enough to know not to get on the train until Law did, keeping Law from separating them.

“All days,” Law said. He took a seat and put his head between his knees. “I’m not going.”

“No, you’re off that day.”

“Which day?”

“The fifth. My birthday!”

“I work on the fifth.”

“No you don’t,” Luffy reiterated.

“What is BYOM?” Law asked the floor.

“Bring your own meat.”

“I’m not bringing meat to a party.”

“It’s just a BBQ but when I asked Sanji what kind of meat he could make for it, he said ‘any’ meat. So now I’m trying to get everyone to bring their favorite meats. The rarer the better.”

“I didn’t ask for any of that context, Luffy. Wait, rarer like raw or rarer like...niche.”

“Both, I want raw niche meat.”

“What about sides?” Law asked.

“That’s why I need you to RSVP. So Sanji has a headcount.”

“What about alcohol?”

“Franky has that handled.”

“I’m not bringing raw meat on the train.”

“What about your groceries?”

Law was not going to admit that he subsisted on protein shakes and frozen meals from the Quik-Go up the street.

“No,” Law said.

“Mm, yes.” Luffy said.

“No.”

“ Yes .”

“No!”

“Please! It’ll be so awesome. You’re really weird like Robin, so I know you’ll bring something interesting.”

“You can’t insult me and then tell me what to do!”

“Who insulted you?” Luffy asked. It was genuinely disarming how much Law believed Luffy’s wide-eyed plea of innocence.

“I work the next day.”

“So? Killer works that night .”

“You have a friend named Killer?” The vision of Luffy befriending a giant doberman and letting it run amok at his BYOM party filled Law’s mind. It was likely.

“He’s awesome! C’mon Traffy.”

“Who told you where I work and what my schedule is?”

Luffy narrows his eyes and crosses his arms across his chest, “They swore me to secrecy.”

“You don’t have many options. I only have two friends.”

Luffy counts three of his fingers and shoots Law a confused look.

“I’m killing one of them.”

Luffy tossed his head back in jubilant laughter. It was the loudest thing Law had heard in weeks. Luffy whacked his fists down on his thighs, whilst kicking his feet, which went clap clap clap on account of his ratty flip-flops. “See! This is why you have to come. You’re one of the funniest guys I know.”

“...no…you’re confused.”

“Eh, confused?” Luffy asked and tilted his head sideways. It was oddly puppy-like. Likely the Homo habilis would lose a fight with a puppy.

“You have me confused with someone else.” Law had been called a great many things, to varying degrees of truth. A psycho, an asshole, unethical, weird, off-putting, contagious, tall, male. None of them had been ‘funny’.

Luffy examines Law with a plain face and then chuckles again. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Okay, time for a new plan. “No.”

“Aww c’mon!”

“Get off the train here .”

“No, not until you agree to come to my party! Don’t be lame!”

Law winced at his ever increasing volume.

“What do I have to say to get you to go away?”

“'Yes.'”

“No.”

“Okay, well I’ll just follow you home.”

“You’re insane. No you won’t.” Oh god, he would. “You’re insane.”

The thought of Luffy knowing his exact address, as opposed to just his general neighborhood, filled Law with dread. Law suspected that Luffy would be outside his apartment in that ratty hat, playing his console, when Law left for work that afternoon. And any other time he wanted Law’s attention.

“Get off the train,” Law said, with less heat than all of his other protests.

Luffy seemed to realize he had Law on the line so he said, almost softly, “No.”

To buy himself some time, Law read the advertisement above Luffy’s head for a man named Bartolomeo, who would just do ‘Stuff’. Luffy twisted in his seat to look up at it, “Oh, he’s coming too.”

“Him?” Law pointed at the man on the poster, a green haired man with facial tattoos and piercings. Of course the strange man on the subway banner was coming to Luffy’s birthday. “What kind of ‘stuff’ does he do?”

Luffy shrugs, “All kinds of stuff. You can ask him about it…at my party.”

“Like sex stuff?” Law asked, not quite ready to move past it.

Luffy suddenly sat up straight, as if an iron bar has been swapped with his spinal cord. He said in a near robotic tone, as if he were reciting from a dialogue sheet, “Having sex with your friend needlessly complicates good things.”

Yikes.

“Okay,” Law said. It was partly out of pity and part exhaustion. “Okay.”

“Okay? As in you’ll come?”

“As long as you promise to never do this to me again.”

“Deal!”

Law stood up as the train rolled into the next stop. Luffy, as expected, joined him.

“Don’t worry the sides are really good. Macaroni, potato salad, chimichurri sauce, I know that’s not a side but I can just dri-”

Law shoved Luffy out the door. He landed on the tile with a mysteriously wet smack. The doors closed. Law waved at Luffy through the glass. Luffy waved back and called goodbye, his voice somehow managing to project over the departing train.

There were, of course, the giant predatory baboons, Dinopithecus, to consider. They could weigh up to 170 pounds (ca. 77 kg) and stood at about the height of the average man. They moved quadrupedally, so Law liked to imagine the horror of the Homo habilis as something over 60% its weight barreled at it to rip it limb from limb and consume it raw. Doflamingo was akin to a predatory baboon and had once thrown a VHS player at Law. He’d only bled a little.

There were so many people at Luffy’s party.

Law hadn’t been happy when he finally looked at the address that Luffy had spammed his texts with about fifteen times. The party was at a lake house in what could be called ‘Upstate’ if Law weren’t afraid of how irritated he’d be at the idea of going ‘Upstate’ for a party. Law had considered not going until he saw that he only had to transfer stations once and that the train leading to Goa was one of the newer ones that went decently fast. The commute wasn’t a good enough excuse. And Luffy would come looking for answers.

As Law approached the party his stomach bottomed out. There were dozens upon dozens of vehicles. Franky’s tow truck sat next to a sleek Bugatti, which was blocked in by what could only be described as a monster truck. Coupes and minivans sat among no less than five Porches and a city maintenance truck. There was a van wrapped in an advertisement for Bartolomeo’s business, vowing to do ‘stuff’ for a fair price, which featured Bartolomeo’s face of course. Somebody’d rode a moped over and leaned it against a grocery store mobility scooter.

The house itself was massive, four floors if you were counting the built-in garage, constructed with weathered oak and stones. Some of which had blackened from time and some that had been replaced in the past ten years or so. An ancient oak tree stood in the front yard and from it hung about four dozen bottles of cola, tied with fishing line. They slammed together, producing a sound that was not quite beautiful but was certainly alive enough to be called so.

Law followed a path of red and gold balloons to a gate, which lead into the backyard. It was not a backyard filled with man eating baboons but it was filled with way too many people. Maybe forty but probably more.

People sat in lawn chairs beneath trees, munching on plates of barbecue and drinking from plastic cups. Children ran through the yard with streamers and bubble wands, playing a game that at first sight was mindless but had rules judging by one little boy's shrill accusation of cheating. Someone dropped from the massive dock in the back, launching a screaming partygoer into the stratosphere until they came crashing down in the lake.

Law meant to turn straight around, but found himself transfixed by Sanji’s setup. At the back of the massive property, near the lake, Sanji stood atop a stonework platform. There was a fire pit and a wood grill built into the platform, which Sanji was putting to work, but he’d also dragged over a charcoal grill, a gasoline grill, a blacktop, and several large stock pots which steamed heavily. Rows and rows of coolers were stacked, presumably filled with the various offerings from Luffy’s guests.

A large dog bound over to Law, happily wagging its fluffy tail. Law lifted his styrofoam cooler out of its reach.

“He’s friendly,” Nico Robin appeared wearing a jean skirt and a shirt with a smart looking collar. “Sunny, back up.”

The dog hadn’t lunged at Law but it still took a few steps back and peered up with sweetly apologetic eyes.

“It’s nice to see you Dr. Trafalgar.” Law was not sure if he recalled giving Robin his last name, though surely he must’ve. Surely.

“Please,” Law said. He felt his face flush.

“Okay. It's nice to see you Law.”

“Likewise,” Law coughed. He pointed, awkwardly, at…well all of it. “This-”

“It’s a bit much. More than Luffy meant for it to be. It’s his first party since he’s got back. Everyone was excited to come.” She turned to look at the party, and seemed much more pleased with the volume than Law. “Come this way, I’ll take you to the coolers. What did you bring?”

“Guinea Pig sausages. Guinea Pigs are a delicacy in Peru.” Law had scoured various exotic meat markets across the city, one morning, when he had been entirely unable to sleep due to insomnia. He’d been dizzy and delirious at work that night, but hadn’t been able to leave due to being short-staffed. Law had spent the night almost praying that there was no need for an emergency operation because he wouldn’t be able to endure the shame of admitting he couldn’t perform. Despite all of that he was quite pleased with his gift. That was really what this was all about, giving Luffy weird meat to eat. “What about you?”

“I brought Crocodile. Here, sausages go in this blue cooler.” Robin took Law’s package and labelled it before sealing it in with the rest of the sausage. “Do you want to keep your cooler? We have a special recycling bin set up.”

“Oh, I don’t need this no.”

“I’ll take it then. Kegs are over there. Someone will start making mixed drinks soon, I’m sure, if you’re keen to wait. Sorry, I was just on my way to the store with Jinbe—you two haven’t met yet but you should—to get more paper plates and toilet paper for the outhouse. Oh, and more chips.” She pressed her fingers to her chin, already thinking of more items she needed to grab. Law wished he had a pen and some paper to offer.

“It’s fine."

“We’ll catch up,” Robin smiled and disappeared into the crowd. Leaving Law to awkwardly stand alone. Sanji was the nearest person that Law recognized and he was definitely occupied. Law considered leaving. No, he couldn't leave without saying hello to Luffy. Law looked around for the young man but didn’t spot him. He listened for shrill whining or screamed demands. No such thing hit his ears. Well, he tried.

Law made it all of five steps before a voice said, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Law asked Zoro, who had appeared out of nowhere.

“Don’t leave as soon as you got here.” He was wearing a ball cap pulled low over his dark hair and a pair of acrylic sunglasses that were really too large and square for his round face, but hid his bandage perfectly well.

Law circled his finger around, “This is not my kind of scene.”

“Ah, everyone’s just excited Luffy’s back," he explained. Zoro said nothing after that. Law wasn’t sure if he had been given the order to stay by someone who did not particularly care what he did while he was here, or if Zoro meant to say something further. He seemed to be assessing Law. Law wasn’t content to just stand with Zoro in the middle of the yard, not under the blazing summer sun and near the blaring speakers and next to the smoke from all the grills. Law took half of a step but Zoro half reached out to stop him. So he waited.

The wind changed, blowing smoke from Sanji’s grill into Zoro’s face. He began to cough, which contorted his torso in a way that was painful just to witness. “Fuck it, come on.”

This was how Law found himself being guided through the party by Zoro. He led Law to a trio of mismatched tarps, sheltering several plastic tables of food. One half of the setup was dedicated to meat, which were stored in metal trays with burners beneath them. They were labelled by several people with varying penmanship skills. While some of them were labelled with Robin’s neat script, quite a few contributors had nigh illegible handwriting.

The variety of meat was stunning. There was Robin’s crocodile, which Sanji had served on skewers. There were also regular pork and beef varieties of sausage and hot dogs, and tamer venison and bison cuts. Some people had brought kangaroo and iguana. Zoro added a few pieces of antelope ribs to his plate.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” A voice asked.

Zoro bit off a sigh and turned slowly to face a young man with what could be politely described as a Habsburg Jaw. It was a stunning example of Prognathism. He wore oversized reflective sunglasses, which were smeared with fingerprints but displayed Zoro and Law’s scowling expressions all the same. His sympathetic tone was as thick as syrup. “God it’s been so long…”

“Yep,” Zoro said. He tilted his head to look up at Law. He pointed awkwardly at a tray of meat. “You should try that.”

Law obediently filled his plate with the various things Zoro jabbed his finger at. He was probably going to wind up with heartburn later, but he didn’t mind being used as a distraction.

“What are you doing for work?” Prognathism asked after hanging around for a socially inept amount of time, given Zoro’s blatant discomfort with his approach. “Weren’t you teaching, like, Pilates or something?”

“I’m-” Zoro began. “This is Law. He’s doctor.”

“Hi,” Law said. Prognathism looked up up up at Law and then, predictably, back down at his hands.

“Coroner?” He asked with a laugh that toed the line between disbelief and condescension.

“Those aren’t doctors,” Law said. He said it a bit firmer than he normally would’ve, but the abruptness had its intended effect. Law watched as Prognathism decided that he didn’t like him. He gave Law a small frown.

“Well, it was so good seeing you Zoro. If you need anything at all man, like to talk or… I’ll be around.” The man turned to dart off and crashed straight into a roll of fly paper in his escape attempt.

There was a tense set to Zoro’s shoulders and his jaw and his face and his general aura as Zoro piled his plate with sides.

“There could be more vegetables on this table,” Zoro muttered. He cleared his throat, “Right?”

“Are you asking me as a doctor?”

“Eh,” Zoro said. They departed the table and made it all of five steps before someone else stopped them.

“Zoro! Hey! How have you been? I mean aside from- I- How are you?”

“Great, this is Law.”

“Hi.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Connis. Zoro...we should catch up soon.”

“Yea.”

Ten paces.

“Zoro!” a squat old woman declared. She examined him briefly through heavy lidded eyes and gave him a proud nod. “Good to see you around young man.”

“Nice to see you Kokoro. Have you met Law? He’s going to Cambodia with Luffy.”

“Hi.”

“Huh,” she says. “Nice to meet you Law. Zoro you should try the mead in the garage. We should get drinks, catch up! Bring your new shadow. You two will never guess what that cat did to my plumbing.”

They watched her stumble away in curious silence.

“Plumbing?”

“That thing is not a cat,” Zoro said darkly.

“Zoro!”

“Fuck,” Zoro said under his breath. “Hey, man.”

“Hey…wow look at you. I hadn’t heard until recently. I’m sorry, I would’ve sent some flowers.”

“No problem. This is Law.”

“Hi.”

It didn’t lighten up after that. There were several islands of lawn chairs and plastic tables, and an assortment of wanderers moving between them. Zoro would be called over to a few people sitting under a tree, and by the time the brief conversation had come to an awkward close, a new group of people had drifted into their pathway, pulling him into another micro-examination. Only for someone under a different tree to call him over. Rinse and repeat.

Zoro tried every method possible of disengaging. When someone asked how long he’d been in the hospital, Zoro put a chicken wing in his mouth, forcing the person to introduce themselves to Law. By the end of it all Zoro was waving at people and then jabbing his finger at the blue porta potty next to the house. As if he that was where he was heading, urgently, with a person and two plates of food in tow.

By the last man, Zoro was so tense he looked ready to snap in two.

“Look at you,” the man said. He pushed his own sunglasses back into his fire truck red hair as he assessed Zoro’s state. “Well at least you’re still standing.”

“This is Law,” Zoro said immediately. “Law, this is Kid. Where’s your more interesting half?”

“Fuck if I know,” Kid grumbled. He gave Law a judgmental once-over. “I didn’t know you liked string beans.”

Law frowned.

“Bye,” Zoro said. He stepped around Kid and set off for the house. They were so damn close.

Law took one step to follow. Kid mouthed ‘woof’. Law stopped.

He wasn’t sure if it was a ‘woof’ at Zoro’s state, or a ‘woof’ at Law for…following his friend? Either way it pissed him off.

“What?” Law asked.

“I said ‘woof’”

It was too good of an opportunity.

“Good boy.” Law took one long step to catch up with Zoro, whose eyebrow had breached the horizon of his sunglasses. Kid went to respond but cut himself off, clearly having enough sense to not swing on a stranger at a barbecue. Which was the only appropriate reaction.

“I didn’t realize you were an asshole,” Zoro said. There was an amused tilt to his mouth. Which counted as a victory, under their circumstances at least. “If I’d known I would’ve used different tactics to get us into this house.”

Zoro hauled open a sliding door. They stepped through the vertical blinds into a dark living room, filled with several mismatched sofas and an empty coffee table. The room smelled like lemon cleaner and there was a fresh trail of vacuum marks in the carpet. The only sign of life in the living room was the TV remote, which sat upside down on the sofa with its batteries exposed. Once Law closed the door behind them, the house was quiet.

Zoro leaned against the wall to remove his sneakers. It wasn’t graceful. Abruptly, he was wobbling on one foot, while trying to balance his plate of food. Law paused where he was removing his boots and held out an elbow, which Zoro used to catch himself.

“Thanks,” Zoro said through gritted teeth. “I should've worn my slides.”

Law wished there was an easy way for him to say that it wasn’t a big deal.

“I’m not,” Law clarified, though the moment had largely passed. “An asshole. Well I used to be. I don’t know.” Largely Law tried to remind himself that he was a doctor, no matter how unsuccessful, and he should probably conduct himself with a modicum of maturity.

“He brings that out in people,” Zoro said with a shrug.

“What is his problem?”

“The same as everyone else’s.” So, Zoro. “He’s just an idiot.”

“Who?” A voice called from around the corner.

Zoro hesitated for a lingering second before calling back, “Kid!”

Zoro led Law deeper into the house and into a navy blue kitchen. A (clearly tipsy) Nami sat at a kitchen table mixing a bright red vat of sangria. Her hair was only half dry and she wore a pair of pink shorts over her bikini. Vivi, perched on the counter and eating an apple, was wrapped in a towel.

“Where did you get that?” Zoro asked. Vivi pointed at a reusable shopping bag. Zoro handed Law his plate and began to rummage.

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Nami said to Law. She gave him no chance to respond. “When did you get here Zoro?”

Zoro took a bite of his apple and asked Law, around his mouthful, “When did you get here?”

“Ew! Wash it first!”

“Twenty minutes ago.”

“Eighteen minutes ago,” Zoro answered Nami. He rinsed the unbitten part of his apple under the faucet. Vivi smiled down at him. Nami rolled her eyes.

“What did you bring?”

“I don’t have exotic meat money right now.”

“Law?”

“Guinea Pig.”

“Oh, they eat those in Peru!” Vivi said cheerfully. “Luffy was just there.”

“What about you?” Law asked her, quite pleased with both of them.

“We brought testicles.” Her smile was too sweet for such an unspecific answer.

“What did Kid say?” Nami asked.

“He was just being himself,” Zoro said. Nami’s eyes narrowed. Zoro turned to Law. “Do you want an apple?”

“I’ll pass,” Law said. Vivi chuckled, just once. By the time Law’s brain caught up with why , the atmosphere in the kitchen had melted.

“Are you serious?” Nami’s tone was bizarrely injured. She was looking at Zoro sideways, like she’d seen something that Law had not.

“Calm down,” Zoro said.

“Nami,” Vivi chided gently.

Law awkwardly cleared his throat. The reminder of an interloper in their midst snapped Nami and Zoro out of their haze. Nami went back to her sangria. It was impossible to tell that they’d been ready to lunge at each other.

“This way,” Zoro said to Law. Law awkwardly nodded a goodbye to Vivi and followed Zoro out of the other kitchen doorway.

“Lighten up on him,” Vivi hissed when Law entered the hallway. If Zoro heard, he gave no indication.

Law did not know enough about these people to get involved in their interpersonal drama. It was entirely possible that Zoro was completely in the wrong. Law didn’t have it in himself to ask. Even if he did, Zoro’d probably react like Law was trying to extract his teeth. Law was reminded of Zoro’s abrupt departure at The Baratie. Truthfully, Law had only seen Zoro acting like a jerk. Still, he followed Zoro up the carpeted staircase and into a significantly mustier part of the house. He wasn’t sure why.

The second floor smelled like teenage boy. There were shoes everywhere in various sizes and styles. Zoro swore as he carefully picked his way across them. He was silent as he led Law across the den and up another set of stairs. By the time they’d reached the end of a long hallway and stepped into what was obviously an old man’s bedroom, the aggravated hunch of Zoro’s shoulders had lessened. Still, he didn’t seem in a great mood as he opened a door and led Law onto a balcony.

It was a small balcony, with two high walls and a wooden fence on the outside length of it. From the roof hung a bug net, which gave them the illusion of privacy. There was no furniture except a small wrought iron table and two chairs.

“Beer?” Zoro asked, and gestured at a green cooler next to the door.

“Sure,” Law said, before taking a seat.

“Do you mind if-” Zoro cut himself off with a sigh. “Never mind.”

Law slid his plate to the other side of the table experimentally, to see if Zoro was asking for the seat he’d been about to take.

“Thanks,” Zoro said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it.”

They ate silently for ten minutes. Law wasn’t one to comment on his food as he was eating it and Zoro was still keyed up. By the fifteenth minute Law realized that he was also keyed up. Finally, at the twentieth, Law felt that they’d both decompressed enough for him to say, “The nuances of these are lost on me.”

“Yeah,” Zoro said. He was poking at what Law thought was kangaroo. Maybe. “I should’ve got a regular hot dog. Most of this is just gamey.”

“Neither of us got sauces. Maybe that makes the difference?”

Zoro’s lip curled but he sighed and said nothing. Law raised an eyebrow. They were on the balcony alone but Zoro looked around before leaning forward, as if someone were going to repel from the roof.

“What’s the point,” he began in a low conspiratorial whisper, “of having a bunch of meat if the condiments are making the difference? At that point…just have a sauce party. Or a regular barbecue. I don’t know.”

Zoro sat up straight. Law could see why Zoro had been hesitant to share. Criticizing Sanji, or Luffy, so directly to a stranger didn’t seem easy. If Law were complaining about Penguin’s cooking, he’d probably have done the same thing. Law was not being tested by any means, but he spent time carefully thinking of an appropriate response. Personally he’d thought the whole thing was stupid from the start, but, “I’m sure they’re having fun.”

“Yeah,” Zoro mumbled. “I guess they are.”

Zoro’s miserable state did not improve. Law was content to drink his beer in silence, at least for a while. Misery loves company; if he wasn’t sulking on the balcony with Zoro, he would just be sulking in the yard alone.

Law turned his attention to the yard below. Luffy’s party was populated by an odd assortment of people, to match with the vast array of vehicles parked up front. Children rushed between the legs of adults in a game of tag. An old man placed his walker in the path of one, who dodged around it with an irritated stomp. Luffy himself had appeared from seemingly nowhere and was now bobbing and weaving between the groups, not dissimilar to Zoro, though his brevity was contrarily out of desire to speak to every single person possible. He bounced from punk rockers to sorority girls to a young man in a cowboy hat to a woman wearing a crown made of balloon animals (she made him one).

Law knew people. Law knew several people. He also knew, objectively, that he was too busy to maintain this many friendships. This could be backed up by his three mutual friends with Luffy, who were all too busy to attend this specific party. However , Law still tried to imagine a version of him that was sociable enough to even talk to this many people outside of a professional context. It was like asking himself to role-play as a space alien.

Law parsed the exercise down and experimentally tried to make small talk with one person.

“Did we take the same train?”

“I guess so.”

Great start.

“How did you have enough time to bring your cooler up here?” Law asked.

Zoro looked at the cooler before turning back to the party. He sighed, heavily. “I didn’t want to come but it’s his birthday. I guess he knew I’d wind up here.”

Law scratched his chin and considered his options. “He got on the train with me and wouldn’t get off until I agreed.”

“Sounds about right,” Zoro chuckled humorlessly. “They’re not always this big. It’s just because Luffy’s been gone for a while.”

“How long was he gone?” It was a bit too much fuss for a simple backpacking trip through Peru.

“Two years,” Zoro said. “More or less.”

He opened his mouth, as if to say something more, but leaned back in his seat with an irritated roll of his shoulders. “I can take these down. I don’t want to leave trash in the old man’s room. Do you want that mead?”

“Oh,” Law said. He’d actually thought that the sentence was about to end with them parting ways. “Sure.”

Zoro left, taking the tension with him. Law considered leaving again. Law had shown up, ate, and met plenty of people. Though Luffy was preoccupied, there was no way he didn’t know Law was up here with Zoro. Law hadn’t seen him look, but Luffy wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of setting Zoro up a cooler without checking, at least once, that Zoro was using it. Law had been present and accounted for. He could go.

But Luffy had gone through a lot of trouble to get Law to attend his party. There was no way to downplay it. He’d been spamming Law’s phone for weeks, to no response, and had done his due diligence of making sure Law actually had the day off work before showing up to harass him. It sounded like Zoro had been equally, if not more, difficult to persuade. Neither Law nor Zoro were going to have a good time at this party, that was evident, but Law was willing to return a modicum of Luffy’s kindness by not leaving Zoro worse than he’d found him.

Law could not necessarily relate to the experience of meeting forty-odd people for the first time since he’s had a mysterious accident (presumably) but he had been ogled for his sickness before. In his justifiable irritation with strangers, he’d been shitty. He’d made Baby cry, broken Buffalo’s toys, and thrown things at Giolla. And each time, when the haze had cleared, Law had been left alone, sober, and with no way to take back what he’d said or done. On top of being sick, he’d rendered himself lonely.

Zoro and Law’s stories weren’t the same, but they rhymed. Being somewhat abrasive with someone you invited up to have lunch with you is probably the grown up equivalent of breaking a Flame Wheels track. Law didn’t think he could, in good conscious, ditch Zoro right now.

Law stretched out, popping his spine against the metal back of his chair, and slouched a little in his chair once he was done. He felt adequately situated for someone who was typically too tall for most chairs, and was too skinny for a wrought iron patio chair.

Zoro returned about five minutes later with two cups of mead and more of Nami and Vivi’s fruit. Law raised his eyebrow.

“She won’t mind,” Zoro said around the apple he already had in his mouth.

Zoro nudged a cup of mead closer to Law. The toasted to nothing, really, or maybe to each other’s uneasy company.

Zoro twisted in his seat like Law had, so that they were both looking over the party, and removed his sunglasses. They hit the metal with a clunk. Law picked them up and weighed them in his hand.

“No idea why they’re so heavy,” Zoro said. They’d left a few marks on his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose. Zoro shrugged. “I have other pairs.”

“Just trying them out?” Law asked and took another sip of the mead. It was honey sweet, very dangerous in the wrong hands.

“A friend of mine got me a whole box of them from a charity shop.” He didn’t laugh, but there was a humorous slant to his words.

They watched Usopp arrive with a few homemade piñatas. One was shaped like Luffy’s ratty straw hat, another like a lump of meat, another was a sun with sunglasses on, one was a lion, or possibly a flower. It didn’t matter. Not to Luffy. He rushed over to Usopp, the inaudible barrage of compliments made Usopp squirm from the praise, but Luffy did not relent. He hopped up and down, shaking Usopp’s shoulders, until Usopp had to shove him away, his shoulders hunched with embarrassment.

Zoro snorted. Out of the corner of his eye Law could see a small and crooked smile. Law was not about to ruin his amusement by speaking space alien at him, so he held back his many questions. Such as: Are those filled with candy or more meat? Why are there half a dozen of them? Should adults who have been drinking all day have free access to those decorated piñata sticks?

Kid stomped over and though his body language spoke of someone who was furious, the conversation seemed to be pleasant enough. Usopp began to point at various branches in the yard. Now that something serious was being discussed, Luffy darted off to talk to someone else. Kid, however, listened intently to Usopp and set off after waving down two men to follow him.

Zoro shook his head.

“What?”

“’Good boy’ is nuts.”

“I feel like,” Law considered his words again. Then he decided not to pretend he was anything but what he was. It was sweet, in the abstract, that Luffy had a lot of friends. Law had no interest in sweetness, personally. “He set himself up.”

Zoro snorted.

“What?”

“I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Zoro said. “I would’ve just walked away.”

“Not quick enough on your feet?” Law asked.

Zoro raised an annoyed eyebrow, but he didn’t walk away.

It was clear that Zoro was having a hard time talking about the people that he did like, due to being at odds at them for whatever ( private) reason. So Law tried to talk about the people he disliked instead.

“Pilates?”

“Must’ve heard that through a game of telephone.” Zoro shook his head. “I got certified as a physical trainer when I graduated, as my backup.”

Law was not idiotic enough to ask as a backup for what . He tried to tactfully sidestep this by asking, “Did you do sports in high school?”

“Some,” Zoro said in a tone that told Law that he’d toed a little too close. He cleared his throat, “You?”

It had been important to Law’s parents that he was physically active as a child, but his sporting days were long over by the time he reached High School. However, “I did kendo for a while.”

“Really? With your school or…”

“Through Corrida,” Law said. “They have a junior league.”

“Mm, for how long?”

“Until I was twenty,” Law said. Which was his last year of undergrad, but Law was not offering that information up unless under duress.

“How old did you say you were, again?”

“I never did,” Law said. “Twenty six.”

Zoro aborts his current train of thought and starts doing mental math. “How long is medical school?”

“I’m a resident.”

“How long does that last for cardiologists?” It was a sharp recollection of something that’d been mentioned once, several weeks prior.

Law’s tongue swelled ten times in size. In an effort to step around Zoro’s baggage, Law had mistakenly toppled into his own.

“Just depends,” Law said, wheeling out his old tricks. “I’m a part of a more traditional program, so it’ll be about seven years.”

Seven years of Hogback and seven years at West Blue, administering less than adequate care for less than ideal pay. Law was only able to afford to work as a doctor because he had next to zero in student loans. Doflamingo had not got his fingers back into Law’s life until right before he’d graduated from medical school, so Law had only lost two or three scholarships in the grand scheme of things. Penguin’s own residency wasn’t up but he’d put in transfer requests to find a new one, which paid far better. Like Law, he’d had a difficult start in life and chosen to dedicate the rest of it to helping others. Unlike Law, he was not in a position where he had to do it for scraps.

“There are different programs,”—better programs—“some people can finish up in four.”

“…and you’ve just started?” Zoro asked after a second of deliberation. “As in, this is year one.”

“No,” Law said. “I’m about midway through my third year.”

Now Zoro was really doing math but he dropped it and turned to the party down below. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the bug screen, casting a soft shadow across his features. Law tried not to dwell on it. When his mind lingered, Law reminded himself that he’d been sleeping on his couch for six months and that his life was on a sad and slow decline.

“Do you ever feel the need to referee?” Zoro asked. He was referring to Kid and his gaggle of idiots, who’d had the brilliant idea to prop a ladder against a tree branch so they could hang up the piñatas. There were about a million things that could go wrong.

“You can’t save people from themselves.”

Zoro hummed in agreement.

“ZORO!” Luffy screamed from somewhere within the house. It was simultaneously so loud and so muffled that he couldn’t possibly have been in the attached bedroom. Zoro seemed to think so too, because he reacted with no urgency. Eventually the bedroom door slammed open and, after a few seconds of audible scurrying, so did the patio door. “Hey!”

“Hey Luffy,” Zoro said with a smile. Law dismissed all other smiles retroactively. This was Zoro’s real smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks! What meat d’ya bring?” Luffy asked. He clapped a hand down on Law’s shoulder and gave him a shake. Law extracted himself from Luffy’s grip and leaned sideways. Luffy beamed down at him.

“I’m broke,” Zoro admitted.

“A one dollar pack of hot dogs would’ve been fine,” Luffy said.

“Oh okay,” Zoro said with a frown.

“Just so you know,” Luffy said quietly. “For next time.”

This moment hung heavy in the air between the two of them. And Law. Who was still leaned sideways out of Luffy’s sauce covered grip.

“What about you?” Luffy turned to Law with a wide smile.

“I brought the guinea pig sausage,” Law said.

“Oh I had some in Peru. They call it Cuy though. Guinea Pigs boink a lot so they’re always around if people in the Andes are running out of food. And they just eat grass so they’re cheap. I had some fancy stuff in Lima which was pretty good but I liked it better at this abundance festival that we wound up at. They cooked them in these crazy oven things, dunno what they’re called, and—” Luffy talked about his trip to the festival for about fifteen minutes. Despite himself, Law found himself fascinated by every detail. He had read about some of it in books but it was different coming from Luffy, who was merely recalling his experience in vivid (though sometimes meandering) detail instead of speaking to Law academically.

Over the course of the conversation Luffy put on Zoro’s sunglasses, took them off, put them on Zoro, gave them to Law (who hated them), stepped out of his flip-flops, tossed them around with his toes like a Frisbee, put on his hat, took off his hat, put his hat on Zoro, took Zoro’s hat, tried to grab Law’s (who refused), and refilled Zoro’s beer which he had, Law noticed, drank very quickly.

“Luffy!” Nami called from the yard below. She waved her hands and threw them up in a gesture that could roughly be translated as: What the fuck?

“Oh,” Luffy said and snapped his fingers. “We’re playing Davy Back Fight.”

“Have fun,” Zoro said.

“No, we’re playing Davy Back Fight.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Traffy is playing?”

“Who?”

“No he’s not,” Law said. He wasn’t sure what the fuck Davy Back Fight was but he wasn’t playing any game. “I’m done drinking. I have work tomorrow.”

“I don’t really drink either,” Luffy said. “Come on , Zoro’s playing.”

“No,” Zoro corrected.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They engaged in a staring contest. Zoro predictably lost.

“I’ll play if this finds its way into his wallet,” Zoro twisted in his seat to produce the Sephora gift card.

Luffy eyed it warily. “I…really don’t want to get in the middle of this.”

Zoro didn’t miss Law’s shocked expression, unfortunately, but it was impossible to hide his surprise at Luffy’s neutrality. Two of his friends at such uncomfortable odds seemed like something he’d prod his sticky fingers in.

“Fine,” Zoro said with an exaggerated shrug. “Then I’m not playing.”

“But Traffy’s playing,” Luffy whined.

“No,” Law corrected.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Zoro said.

The betrayal went down like a shot of molten gold.

“No,” Law pleaded one last time.

“Don’t be antisocial,” Zoro admonished. He dutifully followed Luffy back into the house, taking Law’s beer with him.

“This was your idea,” Law snapped. He stubbornly sat at the table for all of four seconds before the realization of how ridiculous he’d look and feel set in. With a sigh he followed Zoro into the house, crashing into him where he stood just on the other side of the hanging blinds.

Zoro said nothing. Zoro didn’t back up and Law couldn’t either, not without stepping into the blinds. Luffy’s footsteps echoed distantly on the staircase. Zoro said nothing. It felt rude to look around the old man’s room, but his only view was the top of Zoro’s navy blue baseball cap. Zoro said nothing. The dog barked downstairs, startling them both.

“Never mind,” Zoro said and turned away.

Law followed him back through the house without comment. They crept through the top floor again, which was also sparsely decorated save for a wall with a row of pictures. Most of them were Luffy with what could only be his brothers, based not by appearances but by frequency of appearance. A few pictures with an adolescent Zoro in the mix caught Law’s eye but they were walking too fast for Law to examine them closely.

Zoro leaned fully against the wall again to put on his sneakers and silently accepted Law’s offered elbow as assistance.

“These games can get kind of physical,” Zoro said as they joined the others. “So we’ll get knocked out pretty early.”

“That works for me.”

“I figured,” Zoro chuckled.

“See! I told you Traffy and Zoro would play.” Luffy clapped his hands together.

“Oh great, because they’re so festive.” Kid grumbled.

“Kid,” someone said in a low voice. Well he tried to say in a low voice. He was teetering towards drunk, clearly, and Kid was so high up compared to normal humans that it was impossible to speak to him without projecting.

“That’s Kid’s boyfriend,” Zoro said just to Law. “Apoo. He’s a DJ.”

Zoro said this in a tone that indicated that there was nothing in the world he considered worse than being a DJ.

“Killer,” Zoro called to a man who looked like his name would be Killer. “Would you like to be on Traffy’s team?”

“My what?” Law asked.

“Sure.” He left his perch on Sanji’s now decommissioned grilling station and joined them. Kid shot Zoro a dirty look but Zoro didn’t react.

“Killer,” he offered a hand.

Law shook it, “Law.”

That was it.

He liked him immediately.

“My what?” Law repeated to Zoro.

“Don’t worry, I’m good at following orders.”

Law opted to ignore this.

“Why not Killer?”

“Mm,” was all Killer had to say.

“What do I have to do?” Law asked, with a resigned sigh.

“There are three teams with three people each. Each team has a pitcher, see them over there, with the red balls in them? Each team has three balls, called Davys so we don’t have to say balls over and over again.”

“Mature,” Law said.

“Compromise,” Killer corrected.

“If you win a game you can steal a Davy from another team’s pitcher. If you lose all your Davys, you’re out. The first team to six balls wins.”

“Six?”

“There’s a ball in the piñatas.” Zoro turned to Killer. “He should do that one, I have an idea.”

“The cheating,” Killer reminded Zoro.

“Right,” Zoro said. “Everyone cheats, just don’t get caught by Nami. Sabo definitely bribed her but she’s negatively polarized against Kid, so she'll ignore us.”

“What are the games?” Law asked, already irritated.

“Stupid,” Killer said.

“Yeah don’t worry about it, we’ll explain as we play.”

Law rubbed his eyes.

“Don’t worry about losing. Killer has to go to work anyways.” Killer and Zoro knocked fists.

“Excuse me. Is the Pep Squad done chattering? We’d like to play in this century.” Kid called over.

“What,” Law gritted out. “Is his problem?”

“Please don’t get me started,” Killer muttered.

“Okay!” Nami called from the grill station. She’d switched into a black and white striped shirt to match her job duties. “We’re starting.”

There was a round of applause from the inexplicable audience. He didn’t understand the fuss for what was surely a bunch of yard games.

Usopp brought out a ladder, which was adorned with too many appendages for a ladder. From each rung of the ladder hung a sign with points, with 50 at the highest. The scores decreased in increments of ten. There was a net on each rung to catch their beanbags, and running up the back support stand. Except for the highest box. The implied risk, Law supposed, was that you could overthrow if you aimed for 50. Usopp used stakes to firmly anchor the ladder to the ground.

“You first,” Zoro said. “Since you’re captain.”

Nami pelted Law, Luffy, and Kid with a few beanbags each. Only Luffy managed to catch all of his, which visibly inflated his ego.

“Don’t get cocky already,” Kid warned.

“So are we taking turns?” Law asked, irritated that Killer and Zoro had been so vague.

“No,” Luffy snorted.

Nami blew her whistle.

Kid and Luffy immediately began chucking their beanbags. The ladder shook from the force. Law threw his on delay. He landed one in the thirty, the second missed all together, and when he aimed for the 50 Luffy used his last beanbag to knock it wayside. Kid laughed at him.

Law took a deep breath. He reminded himself that he was a doctor. Nami calculated their scores. 30 to Team Pep Squad, 50 to Team Sabo Rules, 80 to Team Lame Asses.

Luckily their teammates helpfully went to the ladder and tossed their beanbags. Killer quickly sent Law’s yellow bags flying back and held up three fingers, sensing and wordlessly answering Law’s question of how many rounds there were. Luffy intercepted Kid’s last beanbag, which resulted in a scuffle that crashed into Law.

Law took a deep breath. He reminded himself that he was a doctor. He’d never played childish games before and he wasn’t going to start now. Law had a 401k. Luffy, probably, didn’t even know what a 401k was .

This time when Nami blew the whistle, Law was prepared. He immediately swatted Luffy’s beanbag out of the air and quickly threw the next one into the 50…and overshot it. Kid howled with laughter. Law managed to get his last one into the 40.

Team Lame Asses 150, Team Sabo Rules 90, Team Pep Squad 70. A thumbs up from Killer. A middle finger from Kid. Law refrained from looking back at Zoro.

Another whistle.

Luffy and Law both waste their beanbags knocking Kid’s first two out of the air, his second one cleanly overshoots the 50. He swears profusely. For a second both Law and Luffy wait. Law quickly hurls one into the 30. One of the men on Luffy’s team encourages Luffy to go. Law tosses for the 50 again despite everything in Killer’s body language telling him not to. Luffy tries to knock it out of the air, much to the dismay of both of his teammates. Shockingly it lands again. Kid swears.

Luffy’s teammate picks up one of Luffy’s wayward beanbags and deposits it smoothly into the 20 point net.

“Are you fucking serious?” Kid howls.

Killer shakes his head, lips pressed together to hide his amusement.

“What?” Nami asked, turning away from her conversation with Vivi. It was probably pertinent. “Oh, let’s see.”

Team Lame Asses, 150. Team Pep Squad, 150. Team Sabo Rules, 160.

Kid seemed annoyed by the cheating but didn’t say much about it. Luffy ran over to the pitcher and took one of Kid’s Davy’s for his own team. This irritated Kid who immediately engaged in an argument with Luffy’s teammate, who was stoned beyond belief.

Team Pep Squad gathered again.

“I thought we were throwing?” Killer asked.

“We were, I didn’t realize he had an ego.”

“I don’t,” Law said.

“You have an ego, Roronoa.” Killer said.

“I’ve been humbled,” Zoro said plainly.

Laughter bubbled from Killer, who pressed a scarred hand to his face before shaking his head in resignation. “I’ll do this one. It’s easy to throw.”

“So was the last one,” Zoro pointed out. He shot a dirty look at Law.

Law shrugged.

Zoro and Law retreated to the shade while Killer mingled with the other competitors of the next game. Sanji was nearby, cleaning up some of the food.

“Hey,” Zoro said.

“Hey,” Sanji said.

“It was good,” Zoro said.

“Thank you,” Sanji said.

Sanji returned to condensing the trays and rearranging the labels. “Traffy, do you have a lighter?”

“Yeah, here,” Law tossed his plastic lighter over. “What happened to your fancy one?”

“I think it’s in my car,” he frowned as he lit his cigarette. “Guinea Pig was a nice pick, did you try one?”

A very small part of Law was thrilled that his raw niche meat had been well received.

“Uh, no, actually,” Law said. Sanji returned his lighter, alongside a piece of sausage wrapped in a napkin. “Thanks.”

His issue with the barbecue was not the necessity of sauces, or whatever Zoro’s bullshit complaint was. Like at The Baratie , Law could taste that it was good food. The issue was that, while it was pleasant on the taste buds, it turned into wet cement in his mouth. No amount of beer or good company could change the dark haze that had wrapped around Law. No matter how much Law really wished that was the case.

It was really, all of it, Zoro included, too much. He wanted to go home.

At least Killer seemed to be doing a remarkable job throwing what appeared to be a convoluted game of corn hole with way too many extra steps added, including ringing a bicycle bell.

“Who came up with these?”

Zoro started to respond but stopped. An odd expression passed over his face. An abrupt cough escaped his chest. He pressed a knuckle to his breastbone, stopped, reached for his pocket, and aborted that motion as well. Despite his best efforts, a few more coughs escaped.

Out of the corner of his eye Law saw Sanji urgently stubbing his cigarette out. Sanji looked up at Nami, but Law waited until Sanji had busied himself with his task to look at her himself. She watched Zoro studiously for a moment, before looking across the yard. Law followed her gaze to Usopp, who was frowning at the fire pit.

He was on to something. Though Law was a smoker himself, with a higher tolerance for secondhand smoke, he hadn’t noticed enough smoke to cause any sort of cough. Zoro’d already had a bad reaction to the fire pit earlier.

Chaos erupted on the playing field, grabbing everyone's attention. Law took one step in front of Zoro, whose arm brushed against Law’s back as he reached into his pocket. Law heard an inhaler pump, which he hadn’t been expecting when he shielded Zoro’s cough. None of Zoro’s symptoms added up anymore, so Law tossed his mental chart in the trash. He shouldn’t have been guessing about his health anyways.

Killer reached his hand into Kid’s pitcher. Kid swore furiously.

“What the fuck?” Law asked when Killer made it to them.

“Ego,” Zoro hissed, his shoulders hunched.

“He-” Killer began and then sighed. “Tt, ‘humble .’”

The wind changed again, blowing more smoke in Zoro’s direction. He repeated the charade of not needing to cough until Law (gently) knocked him off balance, preventing him from tensing his chest. He aimed a punch for Law’s kidney as he coughed, but Law deflected it with a swat.

“I need to go to work anyways,” Killer said. When Zoro shot him a dirty look, Killer added, “Otherwise, I’m going to throw a beer at Kid.”

For whatever reason this worked a little and Zoro’s glare relented.

They were all insane.

“Oi, Cook.”

Sanji turned from his food.

“We’re leaving,” Zoro said.

With a thumbs up, Sanji began to sweep the crowd for teammates. Team Pep Squad was smoothly replaced without so much as a jeer from Kid or a comment from any onlooker. Zoro wasn’t having a terrible coughing fit, truthfully. It was possible that only someone paying close attention would've noticed at all.

It was just a matter of who was paying close attention.

“I’d offer you a ride but I rode my bike,” Killer said.

“Thanks,” Zoro said.

With a nod of his head, Killer cut for the side gate. Zoro led Law inside once more. He removed his shoes by leaning against the wall again but this time shoved himself straight with an aggravated huff. He carried his sneakers to the kitchen. Law, unsure, but suspecting an exit was being made through the front door, carried his boots to the kitchen as well.

Zoro stuck his head in the fridge, which interestingly had a place for a padlock, and extracted a soda. Before Law could suggest water , Zoro removed his glasses and tore off his bandage bandage, placing the soda on his eye. He held his good eye closed. He looked like the embodiment of misery. It had all come on so quickly. One symptom after the other.

Law took Nami’s long vacated seat and waited, watching Zoro’s chest closely. It hitched right before Zoro finished each inhale. Law gave him a few more improper breaths before saying, “I know it’s uncomfortable, but-”

Zoro inhaled strongly, filling his chest to its full capacity. He exhaled through his mouth. He took a few more breaths before fumbling into his pocket and tossing Law his inhaler. “I already took two.”

Law read the prescription and the dosage. “This is for pneumonia, correct?”

“Yep.”

“How often do you take more than two?”

“Only once, last week.”

“How recent was the pneumonia?”

“About five weeks ago.”

“I’m guessing they told you everything was still swollen.”

“Yeah,” Zoro said.

“How much do you weigh?”

Zoro hesitated.

“Guess, if you’ve lost some.” He had since they’d met.

“155, maybe. I was 162 a month ago.”

Law considered. This was not ethical. 40% of his life had been ruined by a bogus ethics complaint, deployed through a proxy of Doflamingo. He’d threatened, or promised, really, that once he was done with Law they wouldn’t let him so much as remove medical waste from the trash.

“I promise you,” Zoro said. “There is nobody to sue you if you kill me.”

Law hurled the inhaler at him.

“Two more is fine, call your doctor if you think you need anymore within 24-hours. So long as it’s not an emergency, obviously.”

Zoro used his inhaler and pressed the soda back to his face.

After a while he said, “It wasn’t the cigarette.”

“He knows,” Law said. If he didn’t, Usopp would probably say. It also didn’t matter. Somebody else’s feelings should be the last of Zoro’s concerns right now, but Law knew better than to bring that up. There was a litany of reasons it could go wrong.

Law couldn’t stand it any longer. Even though he felt like a cat was tearing a line of claw marks clean down his chest, begging him not to speak, he opted to be honest with Zoro. It could well may be useless information or it could clear the air at least.

“I was sick, when I was younger,” Law said. Zoro opened his eye, curious. Law continued, “The worst part was being sick, obviously. But aside from that, I hated when I couldn’t exactly hide it. People would feel so bad and apologize. When I tripped or…” Law shrugged. “I couldn’t tell them it’s normal, right? Because it’s not, not to them, and it wasn’t, really. It felt like telling somebody that it wasn’t a big deal, not really, was the bigger ordeal. It was so annoying. I felt so annoying.”

It, It, It. How novel, to have a problem that lacked sentience and malevolence. Amber Lead Disease hadn’t hated Law. It simply was. Now It was gone and had left a void occupied by someone who did hate him.

“Is that why you became a doctor?” Zoro asked, taking the obvious off-ramp.

“No,” Law said. “My parents ran a hospital.”

“So,” Zoro said. “Back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Law agreed. “Life goes on eventually.”

Zoro was quiet in his contemplation. Law was prepared for him to say ‘thank you for sharing’ or worse, feel the need to share himself but he never did. So rare was it to find someone else who appreciated directness.

The back door slid open but nobody called out. After a moment a man with dark skin and graying hair stepped into the kitchen.

“Zoro, would you two like a ride to the station?”

It took Zoro a second to respond but he said, “Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Have you met, Law, Jinbe?” Zoro turned to Law with a small smile. “He’s the only one who can beat me in a drinking contest.”

Jinbe scowled. There were probably other ways he’d like to be introduced.

“That means nothing. You’ve been downgraded to a lightweight,” Law said. Zoro was a little inebriated, which spoke to how much pain he was in.

Zoro shot him a dirty look but gathered his stuff. Law followed Jinbe and Zoro out the front door and into Jinbe’s very sensible car. In the back seat, Law saw a pile of Jinbe’s work stuff. He was a social worker. Law recognized the bag the county assigned them.

“What’d you bring?” Zoro asked, his mood lighter in Jinbe’s presence. Whether it was for his benefit or because of his company, Law wasn't sure. Based off Zoro's other interactions with his friends, probably a mix of both.

“Just regular beef franks,” Jinbe said. “I was worried everybody would bring nothing but odd things.”

Jinbe insisted that Zoro fiddled with the AC and the radio, and they discussed, briefly, a music group that Law had never heard of.

“What’s the name of that trail?” Zoro asked quietly, when they were close to the train station. “The one he mentioned at dinner last week.”

“John Muir,” Jinbe said. “He might not go.”

“Not on my behalf,” Zoro grumbled.

“The elevation is pretty sharp,” Jinbe said. “I think that’s his concern.”

This didn’t seem to placate Zoro, who squirmed in his seat. As they pulled into the gravel parking lot of the train station, Jinbe offered Zoro a ride into the city. Which received a resounding ‘no’. Law thanked Jinbe and got out of the car, but the door didn’t close in time for him to miss Jinbe offering Zoro money. Law wished he could claw the memory out as he navigated the ticket kiosk on the platform.

“Don’t buy my ticket. The fuck is wrong with you?” Zoro said, once again appearing out of nowhere. He walked with such silent feet.

“I’m a doctor,” Law said, pocketing his own. “You are—”

“—unemployed?”

“I was going to say 'a Pilates instructor.'”

Zoro chuckled. “They can clean up. I bet I could. Chicks dig it when you’re gay.”

Zoro assessed Law’s reaction to this “news” out of the corner of his eye. It was redundant messaging.

“Do they tip?” Law asked. He’d never been to a Pilates class before but he felt confident that there was no tipping involved.

“No,” Zoro said. “The way those types of gyms work is that the more in demand you are, the more classes you get. The higher your pay.”

Zoro removed his sunglasses again and pressed his still cold soda to his eye.

“It’s swollen,” Law said quietly.

Zoro nodded. “I saw in the rearview.”

“Is that abnormal?” Law asked.

“No,” Zoro said after a pregnant pause. “They said it’ll stop in the next month or two. They put in the mesh back in February.”

Law looked down at him sharply but tried to hide it. Which was impossible with how close they were sitting. (See aforementioned redundancies.)

“What?”

“Nothing,” Law tried. Zoro scowled at Law. “I’m just surprised you still bandage it, is all.”

“Only sometimes. It twitches, randomly, and I figured everyone would be ogling me enough.” It shouldn’t twitc, but Law wasn’t going to say that. Zoro sensed the thought anyways. All he said was a simple, “Eventually.”

He was probably drowning in medical bills, with no way to work. No doubt Jinbe (at bare minimum) had already suggested the cities’ insurance plan, so Law refrained from problem-solving. Law wasn’t sure exactly what Zoro wanted from him, but it was safe to say it wasn’t that.

It was a reminder for Law to bring himself back to center. Whatever was going on here needed the breaks pumped. He’d already decided, nearly two months ago, that they’d tear each other to shreds. Law didn’t want to add a doctor patient dynamic. (He’d no doubt be laying awake that night, filled with regret about recommending Zoro use the inhaler beyond his recommended dosage.) He didn’t really want to navigate integration into a friend group where one of them was at odds with so many of the others. (He, in particular, did not want to be friends with Luffy anymore. He was going to get a stress rash.) Law was not quite at rock bottom, and neither was Zoro, but Law was slipping further and further. Zoro certainly didn’t want Law dragging him down. (Or worse, Doflamingo shoving him down.)

Law also felt, in general, that he was misleading Zoro. He wasn’t really the man that Zoro was attempting to befriend. He was in a shitty place, neglecting his friends, his hobbies, and his hygiene, and slapping on the mask of an alien creature to get through the days. Certainly this day. Law didn’t want to ‘meet’ someone only to have to reintroduce himself. It felt duplicitous at best. Truthfully, he felt radically distant from himself these days. A stranger to his own reflection. He didn’t want Zoro to want him.

“Do you have your ears pierced?” Zoro asked abruptly.

Law realized that he’d brought his fingers to his ear lobes while thinking.

“Yeah, they’re…dirty.”

“Just have the one pair?”

Law shrugged, “I like what I like.”

Zoro chuckled again.

They stood for the approaching train and boarded an empty cart. Nobody checked their ticket. They were largely a charade. Some would say a sign of high trust in people, but those people had not met Penguin and Law back in their med school days.

Zoro fell asleep stunningly fast. Leaving Law to read a medical journal on his phone for a bit. Law nudged him about an hour after he’d used his inhaler.

“How’s your breathing?”

Zoro took a few experimental deep breaths. “Good again.”

“What caused the pneumonia? Not your apartment right?”

“Offering me an alternative?”

Law opted to ignore this. Which amused Zoro.

“I’m basically always in some form of doctor’s office or hospital.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can go home without choking to death.”

Law nodded, satisfied. “Sorry to wake you up.”

Zoro shrugged.

“Hey,” Zoro said. “Thanks. For the help.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You left early because of me.”

“I didn’t want to be there.”

Zoro shrugged again and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Eventually Zoro shifted in his seat and started looking up at the map, which was indicating his stop. Zoro could get away with getting off up north and transferring to one of the subways, Law was better off riding all the way south. Law put his feet down to let Zoro out. He didn’t squeeze past Law quite yet.

“You know how I know you’re an asshole?” Zoro asked from where he sat redundantly close. Law could feel his hot breath on his cheek. It was insane. Zoro’s audacity was truly ludicrous.

“How?” If he turned his head they would be closer than nose to nose.

Zoro made that breathy amused sound again, “Because you didn’t start having fun with that game until everyone else was pissed.”

Law felt like his safety rail had come loose, right at the apex of a ride he hadn’t bought a ticket for.

“See ya around Traffy.” Zoro waited on the platform and waited until the train rounded the bend to move. Which Law only knew because he’d twisted in his seat.

Homo habilis found strength in numbers. They had to. Their tools were rudimentary. Their statures small. Their most reliable source of sustenance was fishing in lakes, filled with 25 foot crocodiles. Likely they would have to tackle prey animals as a group, risking grave injury from antlers and the effects of gravity. They lived in colonies of about 60 on average and still they could not escape the harsh climate, the disease, their fellow predators. Law could survive just fine on his own.

“Son of a bitch.”