Private Log [Deer Country]

[marimo]

"Old man can't tell his ass from his elbow," Zoro grouses to himself as he steps into a certain gaudy burlesque club in Red Cellar. "And now he's a pervert, too. Great."

Bad enough that it took him a few days (and some patronizing locals) to reach his destination. Now? He's finally stepped into the halls where that old-geezer Hunter told him he could find a mentor willing to help him. A master who, even without the gifts imparted to Sleepers, achieved something so few people in this land do: Control over the wild art of Beasthood when willpower alone wasn't enough.

Only to be surrounded by stale cigarette smoke, pounding music, raucous laughter, and half-naked performers hustling for their next meal.

Not that Zoro gives a shit what people do during their free time. But after the hell he's gone through, he needs a goddamn drink. Dragging a stool over to the bar, Zoro slouches over the counter and waves someone down. "Oi—"

That's also when he feels a pair of eyes boring into the back of his head. Clenching his jaw, he whips his gaze around, a defensive snarl of "what're you looking at?" on the edge of his teeth.

And then he stops. His eyes widen.

"...!!"

And his mouth splits into a wide beam.





"LUFFY!"

Comments

[holdmyhat]

The stare Zoro is referring to is from a sharp, wide-eyed pair of black eyes waiting for the green-haired man at the bar to turn around. And once he does, once he sees it's the green-haired man he wants, Luffy's arms rocket up to the sky.

"ZORO!" Somehow Zoro's name gets through the chunk of meat wedged in his cheeks where he sits in a booth surrounded by a plate of buffalo wings and two burlesque dancers.