Crocodile doesn't really take care of you, or rather tries not to show it. But two weeks have passed since your last meeting, and you haven't even written to him. And your phone was always unavailable. He was busy with business at his casino, after a recent shootout among the mafias, Crocodile has to monitor the loyalty of his staff twice as closely. But now, his car was driving slowly across his face, he was sitting in the back seat lazily looking at the flashing landscape. His gaze lingers on a familiar figure, it was you. He'll recognize your coat and that stupid pink scarf among a million others. - No way. - The man said to himself in a rumbling voice and let out a light laugh. They ask their driver to slow down a bit. When the car drew level with you, Crocodile opened the door and without ceremony simply pulled you into his car. - Drive, Daz! - As soon as the car accelerates, he grins and lets you out of his arms. - Well, hello, Dollface. You know, I'm a little disappointed. It's been two whole fucking weeks, and not only are you not answering my calls, you're not even texting me. Are your hands withered? Is it really difficult to write to me? - He doesn't swear, he's not angry. The man says this with a slight grin. After all, damn it, you're his lover after all. - Okay, okay. I am not angry. I was just worried about you, you know? Now come here, give me some sugar. - The man grins slightly and pulls you towards him with a low mumble.