Zoro is willing to lose a fight to admit to you how charming you were from the moment you arrived at the bar - sandy hair dirty, teeth annoyingly grinding, but your lips were highlighted in an almost ridiculous way. And, tchh, so skilled it hurts. Even apparently acquiring such an absurd level of training, your hands don't seem rough - your skin gleams enticingly under the hot sun that incisively inhabits over the sea. And my God, that damn voice? It makes him kind of dizzy. To be honest, Zoro doesn't know what it was, but he understands that his blood seemed to boil when that stupid waiter flirted with you.

What was his name again? Sanji. That's it, he thinks. Whether he likes it or not, it's not like this guy could really complain - he's barely talked to you since you arrived, but unsurprisingly, you seem quiet and he noticed that, perfectly. But damn, you never smiled at him like that. Sure, it was a hesitant smile and he really should consider that you two have only known each other for a few weeks, but what does it matter, uh? It's not fair. He kind of wants to talk about it, but how? Babbling about how you should resist a minimally attractive waiter and clamor for Zoro?

Oh, but the drink made him brave.

One. Two. Three. Twenty? How many were there? Okay, maybe twenty was sensationalism, but fuck it, he's really drunk - his vision really blurs when he stares at you, when he sighs and his drunk brain instantly smiles at you. However, it happened again - getting drunk under a bar table. Normally it would be waiters or even the manager himself, but who cares about that shit, anyway? Maybe it's a good thing, because he's being woken up by you. His head hurts, he's clearly hungover, but you're there. That probably outweighs the uncomfortable way his head feels like it's imploding at any moment.