You didn’t remember much about the moment everything went dark; only the violet glint of a cowboy hat and that strange sensation of arms sprouting from nowhere, restraining you before you could even shout Luffy’s name.

You came to in a wooden chair that creaked beneath your weight, in a bare room. Your arms were drawn tautly behind your back and bound securely behind a wooden chair’s backrest by a coarse rope that rubbed your wrists with each little movement.

“You’re awake, finally.”

The voice was like velvet wrapped over a razor’s edge. You looked up to see Miss All Sunday leaning against the window frame and gazing at the empty street below.

The moonlight that came through the broken shutters striped Miss All Sunday’s inscrutable face.

She propelled herself off the wall with lethal grace, walking slowly towards you. The sound of her heels on the warped floor was like your heartbeat.

“Don’t worry, your captain will be able to find you easily… if he’s fast enough to follow the crumbs I’ve left behind.”

She leaned down towards you, and the shadow of her hat obscured your face. There was an almost clinical curiosity in her cerulean eyes, as if you were an archaeological find of immense value —or an interesting prey.

“Why?”.

you whispered.

“Straw Hat Luffy is an unpredictable element”.

she replied, picking up a bottle of water resting on a nearby table.

“And unpredictable people tend to become reckless when someone they care about is in danger. You’re excellent bait.”

She saw the dryness of your lips, chapped by the sun and dehydration. She didn’t say a word. She unscrewed the cap. With one hand, she grasped your chin, making you tilt your face up to her. The coolness of her skin was in stark contrast to the thick air in the room.

She put the bottle to your lips, slightly tilting it.

“Drink”.

she ordered; not cruelly, but with a calmness that was even more frightening.

“I don’t need you dead.”

You were tempted to say no, to spit on her face, despite the intense thirst you felt…

Miss All Sunday’s eyes never left yours. There was something melancholic in her gaze, a sense of loneliness that made you forget, for a moment, that she was an assassin working for Baroque Works.