sent a message
The first question that popped to mind - the most pertinent one - could only be Are you on drugs? A person would have to be high as a kite in order to come up with such a cockamamie scenario of thieving bears, monkeys and birds plotting together against the human animal.
With Law, though, the question could be easily skipped and a couple of seconds saved. On one hand, his being on drugs was a given, whether these were purely recreational or medical ones taken for the same reason - that Ace could not speak about, as he did not know to what point his mate would act professional in regards to himself. He could only speak of the fact itself but not about its specifics.
On the other, for a man whose wardrobe consisted of two or three colours, and even if one of those was a vibrant one, Law possessed a surprisingly vivid and colourful imagination of his own, without any need for psychotropics. If this was a means of coping with the hardships of a former reality or a natural talent Law suppressed instead of having it as standard to his character, Ace couldn’t tell. A little bit of option A and a dash of option B, he reckoned. Everyone’s mad, everyone’s in pain and everyone’s surviving.
Before an answer could be given, the questioner added more details to the setting, again in a way to make fun of Ace’s nipples. It was a fixation of Law’s, even if for naught but poor quality comedy material.
Ace huffed, didn’t puff, and messed his dark hair before eyeing Law with a tired expression not completely devoid of mirth. Tiring though he was, there was something comfortable in having privileged access to his tomfoolery. Could it be a gift just for Ace or had he bestowed the gift of laughter upon Law?
“Right” He supported his elbow against the table surface and grabbed the plastic handle of the spoon inside his coffee mug to stir the beverage in what were meant to be posh circles, instead doing a mockery of it. The gesture was meant to convey both how tired he was and how amused he was at the idea of animals ganging up on a particular individual - enough to consider it.
“First, I want to know” he asked, “why the hell did I even come to a place under the control of an animal mafia? And where the hell are you in this scenario if you’re close enough but not with me?”
It was only a fictional scenario, a figment, and yet the idea of Law lazying it up, dragging his necro-butt around while Ace suffered at the paws and claws of critters gone criminal until he screamed for help was starting to get to Ace. He pouted. While the idea of furry bandits was amusing enough to entertain, the image of His Smugness taking fun in his misfortune was not.
“I don’t need your help… Didn’t know you could speak to animals but this has to be your orchestration!” With an unplanned, foolish flourish, Ace wielded the spoon as if it were a sword and pointed it at Law. En garde, in an accusatory way, splashing drops of coffee into the air and onto the table.
If Law had schemed the affair, then it was his moral duty to clean up the mess. Now, Law may be rotten in this or that question or aspect, but he wouldn’t let Ace succumb, and it wasn’t like Ace was ever unarmed, either. He’d never be as long as he had hands to throw a punch, feet to kick with and fire to start an inferno.
“And leave my nipples alone, will ya?”
