If this was a practical joke, it was a poorly concocted one. Regrettably, Ace had to conclude that Law was losing his touch. There was no chance a sweet freebie would disturb Ace - not now, not ever - unless said treat - in this case, the lollipop - had more to it than the eye could see. Poison?
Nostrils close to their target, Ace took a large whiff of the lollipop and found no scent other than the one that ought to be there, sugary and industrial. He had a talent for detecting poison in food and he could not say whether that was a natural ability he’d been born with or a defence his body had learnt by experience at the Gray Terminal. Innate or acquired, this was, without a doubt, a valuable asset in survival.
Passing the examination with distinction, the lollipop was freed of Ace’s palm, leaving behind a colourful but translucid, lollipop-shaped sticky stain. He shoved the sweet in his mouth and eyed Law with an expression half-daring, half-bored, the sum translating as ‘Is that the best you got?’
One icky hand was a small price to pay for complimentary hard candy. Law was right about one thing, though, if his intention was that of annoying Ace rather than spoil him - small price though it was, a gluey hand was an annoying thing. And there were no public water fountains or faucets around!
There was only one way out of this mess.
With a bold move playing in slow motion, Ace brushed his palm hard against Law’s shirt, not quite managing to get rid of the lolly goo, but succeeding in sharing some of it with Law in retribution. Mission accomplished. Final balance: one happy grown boy and an annoyed grumpy old man.
“Thanks, Roo”