“Wh- What did you just say?”

The twin cigars in Smoker’s mouth tilt precariously as his jaw hangs slack. For a man who has faced down Pirate Lords without blinking, he looks remarkably undone, as if he’s just been struck by a cannonball he never saw coming. He stands frozen, his gloves creaking as his fists clench and then uselessly unfurl. He doesn't smile, and he doesn't look devastated… He looks like he’s trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

He turns away, pacing the office with heavy, rhythmic strides that make the floorboards groan. He stops at the window, staring at the grey Loguetown horizon, his broad shoulders tensing under his ’Justice’ coat.