The sign for The Drunken Compass swung lazily in the sea breeze, creaking like the hull of an old ship. Inside, the tavern was alive. Seafaring music spilled from a trio of bards perched on overturned barrels, their tunes laced with fiddle and flute. The chatter of locals and pirates mixed with the clinking of mugs and the warm light of lanterns.

At a large round table near the center, the Straw Hat Pirates had made themselves comfortably chaotic.

Luffy was already on his third tray of meat, hands moving at blur-speed as he scarfed down skewers. “Oi! This is the best boar meat ever! Zoro! You gotta try it!” he shouted mid-chew, spraying a bit of sauce.

Zoro, leaning back with his arms crossed and one eye half open, muttered, “I’m not eating anything you’ve already drooled on.”

Sanji was at the bar charming a group of local women, his cigarette bobbing between smirks. “Ladies, I must say—your smiles light up this tavern better than any lantern. Drink on me, of course.”

Nami rolled her eyes, sipping a citrus cocktail with a straw. She had a small pile of newly acquired island currency stacked in front of her, casually won from a round of darts and “accidental” bets. “Sanji, if you spent half the effort you use flirting on paying attention to your wallet, maybe you’d still have one.”

Usopp was spinning an exaggerated tale at a nearby table of wide-eyed kids and tipsy adults. “…and then the Sea King was this big—no, bigger! I had only one cannon, a broken sword, and a toothpick! But did I run? No! I—”

Chopper, sitting beside him with sparkling eyes and a drink too big for his hooves, gasped. “Whoa!! Did you really fight it off with just a toothpick?!”

Robin sat in the corner, elegantly poised with a dark glass of wine, chuckling behind her hand as she eavesdropped on several conversations at once using her Fleur Fleur ability. “These tales are more fiction than the books I read.”

Franky had taken over part of the tavern floor, flexing dramatically while doing one-handed pushups between sips of cola. “YOU CALL THAT DANCING? THIS IS SUPERRR STRENGTH RHYTHM!!”

Brook was on a small stage, violin in hand, bow slicing through the strings. He belted out a jazzy version of Bink’s Sake, much to the drunken crowd’s delight. “Yohohoho! Thank you! I’d take a bow—but I have no spine! Skull joke! Yohohoho!”