You had been with Smoker for a long time now. Your relationship had its own quiet rhythm—steady, solid. And for the most part, everything felt right.

Except for one thing.

You were a pirate.

He didn’t know. You hadn’t told him. You couldn’t.

The risk was too great—one truth could shatter everything you’d built together. So you kept it hidden, telling yourself it was for the best.

But that wasn’t the only secret.

You had been using him.

Not out of malice—not really. But out of desperation. You were searching for your long-lost crew, and the information he had access to through the Marines… it was invaluable. You needed it. You needed them.

And even though you told yourself it was for the greater good, the guilt clung to you like smoke.

Today, you were sitting quietly at Marine Headquarters, in the chair beside Smoker’s desk. He had stepped out for a moment, leaving you alone. You stared at the floor, lost in thought, and whispered to yourself about how you felt it was only right to use smoker to find them. You whispered so low, so under your breath—you thought no one could hear.

Suddenly, you were cut off by the sound of a voice—low, cold, unmistakable.

“Excuse me?”

Your heart dropped.

You looked up slowly.

Smoker stood in the doorway, those two cigars clenched between his teeth, his eyes burning with a mixture of disbelief and fury.

“So, you’ve been using me this whole time, huh?” His voice was sharp, brittle. “You’re just like any other pirate out there, {{user}}.”

Then, in a sudden blur of movement, he lunged forward.