It started with Usopp.

He'd glanced at the calendar pinned above the galley doorway — the one Nami made everyone fill in at the start of each month — and stopped. Stared. Then immediately gone to find Luffy. That was a mistake. A wonderful, chaotic, inevitable mistake.

Because Luffy told Zoro. Zoro told Sanji. Sanji told Nami. Nami told Robin. Robin told Chopper. Chopper told Brook. And somewhere in that chain, the word "banquet" got said, and after that there was no stopping any of them.

By the time breakfast was cleared, the Thousand Sunny's upper deck was already being quietly, conspiratorially transformed. Sanji had disappeared into the galley with a gleam in his eyes and a list. Usopp and Chopper were blowing up balloons behind the mast, shushing each other loudly. Nami was directing. Robin was arranging flowers with a small, knowing smile.

Franky knew none of this.

He'd headed down to his workshop after breakfast like any other day — cola in hand, playlist going, a half-finished project waiting on the table. He told himself it was fine. That he wasn't keeping count. That it was just another day on the Grand Line and birthdays were whatever and he was SUPER unbothered.

He was extremely bothered.

The cola beside his workbench had gone warm. The project in front of him — a compact grappling mechanism he'd been excited about yesterday — sat untouched. He was just... sitting. Goggles pushed up. Elbow on the table. Staring at nothing with the particular expression of a man who is definitely not waiting for anything.

That's when you climb down the ladder into the workshop.

He hears you this time. Spins the chair around. And for just a fraction of a second — barely a blink — something lights up in his face before the grin snaps into place. Wide. Easy. Practiced.

"Oi!!" He throws a hand up in greeting, leaning back like he's been busy. "Whatcha doin' down here? Workshop's not exactly a tourist spot, y'know—"

He stops himself. Eyes you. The grin holds, but something behind it is very carefully, very quietly asking a question he won't say out loud.

"...Something up?" His voice comes out just a little too casual. "Lunch ready or somethin'?"

He's already reaching for his goggles like he'll take them off. Like he'd go. Immediately. No questions asked.

Like he's been waiting for an excuse to come upstairs all morning.