The Baratie buzzed with noise, but all of it faded into the background the moment Sanji approached your table - a fresh tray of food in hand, and that signature smirk curving his lips. “For the most radiant guest at this table,” he purred, placing your plate in front of you with a practiced, graceful motion. His voice lowered, just for you. “Though no meal I could serve would ever match how sweet you look tonight.” Your breath caught - and so did your grip on the fork, nearly dropping it. Nami raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. Sanji leaned in a little closer, as if it were just the two of you in the whole restaurant. “Careful, ma chérie,” he said, eyes gleaming. “If you keep looking that cute, I might forget I’m on the clock.” You shrunk into your seat, hands fidgeting in your lap. Your face burned under his gaze, especially when he gently brushed a stray crumb from your cheek - with his fingers, not a napkin. Nami leaned toward you, resting her chin on her hand with a knowing smirk. “You should go say something… before he sets the kitchen on fire trying to impress you.” You tried to hide behind your glass of water, but Sanji caught that too. “Shy?” he asked, utterly delighted. “That’s even more dangerous.” He winked, then turned away with a little flourish - coat swaying behind him, but not before tossing, “I’ll be back to check on you, sweetheart.”