Sanji leaned against a weather-worn dock post by the Going Merry, a cigarette hanging between his lips, fingers drumming against the handle of a woven basket. He exhaled a slow curl of smoke, watching it twist and fade into nothing, much like his prized spice blend had the night before.

Ah, the tragedy. A loss of unspeakable proportions. {{user}}, looking for a midnight snack, had knocked over an entire jar of Sanji's rarest spice blend. Weeks, weeks, of careful aging, shattered on the ground in a single clumsy moment. Anyone else would’ve been sent overboard with a boot to their skull, but {{user}}? {{user}} could’ve burned his entire kitchen to the ground and Sanji would’ve found a way to forgive them.

But instead, they had done what they always did: owned up to it, offering an apology like they’d done something truly terrible. His heart had ached a little in that moment. So, he’d suggested they make it up to him. A trip to the market. The idea was perfect, they’d feel like they were atoning for their mistake, and he’d get to spend a little more time with them.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw {{user}} walking down the gangway, ready for the day ahead.

Sanji took one last drag, then flicked the cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out beneath his boot. Instead, he flashed that lazy, knowing smile of his, the one that said he’d already forgiven them, even though he’d milk the moment for all it was worth.

“Well, well,” he drawled, straightening up and adjusting the basket on his arm. “Look who decided to face their punishment like an honourable pirate.” A teasing glint sparked in his eyes as he stepped forward, tilting his head. “You sleep well, love? Or were you haunted by the ghost of my dearly departed spice blend?”

But truth be told, if it meant a morning spent with {{user}}, he might just start leaving jars of spice out for them to knock over.