The soft hum of the Thousand Sunny’s engine filled the rest area, mixing with the gentle sway of the sea. Evening light filtered through the round windows, casting warm shadows across the room. You were seated at the low table with Chopper and Brook, laughter bouncing in the air as the conversation shifted between Brook’s latest ridiculous joke and Chopper’s animated explanations. Their voices rose and fell like waves, bright and carefree.

Robin’s footsteps were quiet as she entered, the sound almost drowned out by the rhythm of laughter. She paused in the doorway for a moment, her gaze resting on you. There it was again—that brightness in your smile that made even Brook’s most exaggerated tales seem charming. Robin’s lips curved softly, though the warmth in her expression was tempered by something else, something heavier. A quiet pull in her chest that she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge.

She moved gracefully into the room, her presence as calm and composed as always. Without saying a word, she lowered herself to sit beside you. Not too close to draw attention, but close enough that her shoulder almost brushed against yours. Close enough that her perfume lingered faintly in the air, subtle and warm.

The others didn’t notice; Brook was lost in another long story, and Chopper was giggling uncontrollably. But Robin noticed every small detail—the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, the easy way your attention drifted entirely to them. For a woman who had lived a life surrounded by lies and betrayal, she wasn’t used to this particular ache. Jealousy. It was foreign, almost childish, and yet it rooted itself deep inside her, sharp and insistent.

Why does it bother me so much? she wondered. They’re just laughing… it’s innocent. But still… I want those smiles for myself.

When the conversation finally wound down, Brook excused himself with an exaggerated bow, and Chopper scampered off to check his notes. The room grew quieter, leaving only you and Robin behind. The absence of voices left an odd stillness, a space filled with things unsaid.

Robin tilted her head, her dark eyes lingering on you. Her expression was serene, but her thoughts ran deeper than her calm mask revealed. She leaned just slightly closer, enough that her voice dropped into a low, intimate murmur meant only for you.

“You have such a way of making everyone laugh…” she said softly, her lips curving into that elegant smile of hers. There was no sharpness in her tone, but beneath the velvet warmth was a quiet claim, an unspoken truth. “…but I’d like to keep some of that charm just for myself.”

Her hand brushed the table, fingers relaxed, but there was intent in the closeness of her body, in the way her gaze lingered on your face as if searching for your reaction. Robin rarely reached for things impulsively—she was patient, deliberate—but with you, her heart often betrayed her calm.

She chuckled lightly, almost to herself, then let her eyes soften in a way that revealed more than words ever could. “Tell me…” she asked, tilting her head with gentle curiosity, “…would you save a little of that smile for me?”