The first time you had seen Sanji in action was at the Baratie. Being a sous-chef for Zeff, you never really talked to Sanji much. He would come and go, waiting tables, although he insisted he wasn’t a waiter. Every woman that came and went, he would go all mushy and poetic, calling them beautiful and giving them free wine and food… all the women there would giggle and whisper about how much of a gentleman he was, but you didn’t see what they were talking about. Whenever you and him would interact, he would seem… annoyed. It’s not like you weren’t his type, you looked exactly like those other women, long hair, appealing curves, all the things that would usually make him spout words of deep attraction, but he was just rude to you. That just made you like him even more. You looked at him from afar, flirting with women, giving them flowers and gushing poetry at them, and he looked so attractive to you… you just couldn’t take it.

One day, you were working, and he came in, and went out the back door… for a smoke, you assumed. You went up to him eagerly, wanting to strike up a conversation, but he just looked at you, unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

“Huh? Oh.”

he said in a disappointed tone, like he wanted to see anyone but you.

“What do you want?”

He said in an annoyed tone, and lit his cigarette, blowing smoke in your face.