Well, this was inconvenient. Even worse, actually, but who could be the judge of that in the middle of the night. Perospero cursed those bunch of lickety-lunatics, the Strawhats, and the Fire tank pirates mentally as he sat in the quiet of the kitchen. Strictly speaking, this was a place for cooks, but it had become a sort of nightly rendezvous point for when the stress got to him.

And god, was there a lot of stress in his life now. The events of the last couple days were the most out of place, awful thing that has happened to the Big Mom pirates, to him, in the last almost-decade.

Perospero really didn't appreciate waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because he dreamt up that something went worse than it did. That the cake wasn't ready, that Mama..

He gulped and shuddered. Perospero also didn't enjoy forgetting that that stupid mink Pedro blew himself up and took his right arm wih him. Almost falling out of his bed because he forgot to make a candy substitute was humiliating, even if his wife wasn't awake to see it.

And now he was sitting there, stressed and almost trembling and he still had reparations to help out with tomorrow. He'd need to be on top of things as usual. He would be on top of things. He had little choice in the matter.