active / ask box / anonymous / submit box
new threads / replies to greeters / new follows / requests
currently answering old things from selected partners
Munday If you send me asks to be replied ooc, such as about meta or the rp proper, these shall be answered to on Mondays.
Sinday I don't observe it. Please send NSFW asks only if they are part of a meme or previously discussed with me. If these have to do with ooc choices, they may be answered as part of Munday.
quick links
The following links might interest you, as they direct to specific categories of text.
As much as Ace wanted to lift his eyes at his asker and see who this was, he couldn’t. Not when in the middle of such a big pile of cats, he could not.
Eyes concealed under the brim of his had and fingers intertwined over his stomach, Ace was quite the relaxed cowboy on a lazy afternoon. Only his loyal horse was missing, its role left to the capable paws of Kotatsu, on whose back Ace rest his. He was warm, as Kotatsu liked; and the lynx was soft, just what the doctor ordered - some softness for the man to rest his head.
As they napped, more felines came to sit and lounge next to them, and even more came along to form a massive pile of cats all sizes and colours. They were drawn to the unnatural heat, which prompted a communal nap and resulted in a loud, happy purr uttered in unison. This was the place to be.
Kotatsu opened a sleepy eye to acknowledge Lizard, closing it the very second he understood there was no threat to bother his captain with. Likewise, his tail slithered on the desolate ground, whipping a burly stray in the process.
As for Ace, he moved no single muscle at recognising the friendly voice. All these cats, though great in number, may make it hard for him to get up and move about but were hardly a hassle.
It had taken him a while getting use to being the centre of attention for derelict felines in need of warmth, just like a good while had been needed to discover and master the powers of his Devil Fruit; but after the initial awkwardness of being followed by the four-legged critters, Ace could enjoy the idea of providing homely comfort to those who had none. He was, in a way, not very different from a stray cat.
Holding a pile of a dozen CDs, Ace mused on Luffy’s question while he flipped each record in his hands, contemplating the cover pictures and the information printed over them.
There was The Offspring and Elvis, Cash and Beastie Boys, among others. The selection made Luffy’s question a lot more difficult than it seemed and made him sound smarter in his inquiries than he normally showed. Ace’s collection spanned most of the suggested genres and his taste went beyond them, as sometimes he would cover Disney songs along with his rocky, folksy favourites.
“Most, I think… Wait, are you asking me what kind of music I like or what we should play?”
The first one was more likely to be the truth. To hint at what he wanted was unlike Luffy, a boy who’d either condone or condemn with no hint of subtlety. He would let his brother know what the things he liked and those he didn’t, oftentimes to Ace’s annoyance - first, he would think his little brother was a cry-baby, huff and puff and complain about how much he hated kids who threw a fit. Then, he would realise Luffy was just that, the little one, and excuse Luffy’s stubborness and lack of conversational filters.
Ace handed the CDs to him for Luffy to choose, or at least take a look at the packaging.
“What do you feel like listening to, little brother?”
It was true Ace was a pussy magnet. Wherever he went, he attracted them, dozens of them, needy of warmth and affection, demanding it with hungry yowling. Cats adored him and followed him no matter how hard he tried to lose track of them with left turns, right turns and parkour movements on trash cans, pipes, rooftops and cornices. It didn’t help that Ace’s dashing post dining often resulted in him exuding the appetising aroma of fish.
He seldomly tried hard, anyway. Ace appreciated some feline company and as a rule did not mind being followed by a group of cats provided it did not go over an arbitrary number to make him uncomfortable. When a whole legion of cats was chasing him for naught but hunger and selfish interest, that’s when running was in order and when Ace would curse the friendly fellows.
Ace did have a pussy problem, as Rocinante thought, but there was another thing he owned as well: self-pride. Believe it or not, it can coexist with self-hatred. And he would not admit to the other man his hunch was right.
“Do not!” he spat, not unlike a child would. “You’re one to talk of animal problems, wearing a turkey for a cloak.”
It was not that bad a coat… It looked like an enormous blanket, comfy and warm. It certainly beat any piece of clothing made out of cats, for sure.
Oh, but this was fun… To have a half-naked man question another’s taste in fashion! It was a battle neither could win.
*anon meme* which one is your favorite AU and is there an AU verse you'd like to fulfill later in future :)?
♠ anonymous. munday.
Oh, that’s a hard one. I suppose you mean the ones I have already listed and not as a whole, the bulk of AUs people do. Naturally I love them all, otherwise I wouldn’t even consider them, but to pick a favourite…
I’m currently more excited about the Titanic AU and very happy @xfaucheuse chose it! I reckon an extended timeline is in order for the sake of our own rp convenience but, apart from that, there is a minimum of research involved on each reply, which is the kind of thing I like. (Which is why I also love the Greaser AU and thank @spottedsoftpaws for letting me write it!)
As for something I haven’t yet had the pleasure of doing, I have to say it’s the Whaleman AU. It involves more historical research than the others, so it is more elaborate, and also why I’m a bit of a scaredy cat and keep postponing it. But if someone where up to do it - while expecting extra delayed answers - I would tell myself to ‘woman up’.
Aya reached up and kisses him. "Happy New Year, Ace. And, um, happy birthday." Pulling a small box out from her bag, she presses it into his hands. Inside is a simple thing - a leather belt-loop keychain. But, attached to the end, is a small charm in the shape of a hibiscus flower. "So, um, so your mom is always with you."
Though it was customary for friends to gift friends on the occasion of their birthdays, Ace couldn’t say he expected Aya to give him anything; even if he expected her to be one of those who would not let his birthday go unnoticed only because it doubled with the start of the new year. She was a quiet girl, she would not let the thrill of New Year’s fill her up entirely as to make her forget a dear friend’s birthday.
He let Aya give her the kiss and the gift both, leaving any commentary aside until he was done unboxing the flower-shaped charm. A hibiscus flower, as it turned out, thanks to Aya’s comment, for otherwise it was too small a trinket for Ace to discern what genus the metal was meant to represent. Aya’s conscious decision was not surprising when coming from a woman as thoughtful as she was. It was how’d she came by that information in the first place Ace could not understand.
“How did you…?” Emotion filled up his mouth, silencing the words and forcing pearly tears out of his eyes. ‘She loved hibiscus’, Old Gramps had once told him. ‘She was never seen without a flower locked in her hair’
For many a year did Ace think of Rouge and try and guess her features. Would she have black hair just like him or was the colour really demonic, solely to blame on Him? Would she have freckles across her cheeks too? She must have, as wanted posters and newspapers of old showed no ink dots bove His lip. Of the man he had more evidence than he ever wanted, though it felt reassuring somehow to know Roger’s looks. It made loathing so much easier when there was a disgusting face to illustrate just as repulsive a name and to hate both just as fiercely. But of her Ace had no photograph.
Then, one day, when Ace was already a teenager and Luffy still the child he’d always be, Garp paid the boys and Dadan a visit and in conversation with Ace finally answered his old questions about his mother, which he’d delayed on the account of hoping life and its toughness would beat the crap out of the kid and give him the endurance and maturity needed to handle this sort of information without it fueling his psychotic wishes any further.
The teen had nearly cowered at the words ‘talk man to man’, figuring the old conversation about the birds and bees was in order but, to his surprise, Garp had fished a photograph out of his shirt pocket, no doubt from the marine archives.
Since then, Ace, who’d always liked pretty flora, had become partial to hibiscus flowers. Alas, he was a seafarer, not a landowner, and couldn’t grow a plantation inside his pillow case for mother-scented dreams.
Ace reckoned he needed no answer from Aya, whose love was as great as her knowledge. In a coarse voice, he said the only thing that must not be left unspoken. “Thank you, Aya…”
A curse word - shit, damn, take your pick - came muffled as artificially created darkness descended upon Ace. Not being used to pranks of the kind, as his taller sea brothers didn’t care much for burying his hat deep on his head and people who did were, as a general rule, shorter - he had no defensive tactics to employ.
What then, to do, save for swearing and flailing his arms, hoping one would hit Corazón in the process? Law had said the man to be clumsy… Maybe a disoriented hand would be enough to send him flying.
“What the hell, man?! Think you can manhandle me just cuz you’re freakishly tall?”
Talking about a conundrum! Ace was arguably more used to playing the acehole than being the victim to another’s shenanigans. What could he do to get even with Corazón? Pulling that pair of hearts which hung from the ends of his hood would do the trick just fine, if only he stood a little closer to the ground.
Fight fire with fire, they said. And Ace had fire aplenty!
Once he got the hat readjusted just the way he liked it, Ace transfigured the frown on his face into a cheeky smile and extended a friendly hand to Law’s adoptive dad. It lit up with a soft and inviting flame. Nothing naughty about it.
“Why don’t I help you light up that cigarette, friendo?” Maybe it was Ace’s smile, maybe it was the inclusion of the word ‘friendo’ that gave him away but Corazón, understanding he was in for a literal roast, started his not-so-swift escape. “GET BACK HERE!”
You’ve just witnessed someone kicking a chicken three times, followed by this someone getting attacked by a horde of chickens. What're your thoughts on this?
Call it human decency, call it a farm boy instinct, but Ace didn’t find the idea of people kicking chickens amusing at all. What had the poor birds done to deserve a festival of kicks upon them? They weren’t dangerous animals. They weren’t even that smart to even begin weaving malicious schemes. They were just fluffy birds who found corn and cabbages things of excitement. They also tasted delicious…
Following this line of thought, Ace found it hard to believe two or more chickens would gang up on an individual but hey – animals tended to be sensitive to humankind’s bad intentions and find means of protecting themselves from them. Who was he to say evolution was not bestowing better defence mechanisms upon fowl bit by bit, too slowly for a man to take note of it in his lifespan?
“Serves the fucker right, doesn’t it? Who the hell goes around kicking chickens!?”
Just because Ace ate the winged things that didn’t mean he’d chase after them and connect the end of his boot with their perky behinds. Those were two different things! Not even when he hunted did he stoop so low as to kick his prey!
But the chickens in this scenario were gifted enough to go after revenge, eh? That was a sentiment Ace could understand and how could he criticise it?
Bepo? Oh yes… That was the name of Roo’s navigator wasn’t it? A mink, no less, and a polar bear unless Ace was much mistaken - he’d seen his fair share of brown bears that were part of wild fauna, but not of their mink counterparts. Bepo’s species… Was it called white bear? Ice bear? No, it was polar bear, right?
What in the world made Georgia think he and Bepo could be relatives when they weren’t even part of the same race? Not that hey were that far from each other… Four limbs, black eyes, an acute sense of smell… Most useful for detecting nourishment and bad substances in food before it was too late!
“Yeah, Bepo and I are cousins. Can’t you see the resemblance?” There was a great deal of pride in the way Ace waved at himself in a flourished gesture, even if it was a joke.
Now, Georgia was a little late if she was wishing him a ‘Happy New Year’, and ‘little’ was plain optimistic. One could only go around showering wishes for the new year upon others during the first two weeks of the year, so was the rule no one said out loud but which everyone knew. However, Ace figured her wishes felt right somehow, as the panda gave off a sense of whimsy that allowed for and excused funny social interactions.
Oh, right… Panda. That explained it. In the absence of deeper knowledge regarding Zou and the Mink Tribe, let alone their calendrical system, the fact Georgia was a panda had to suffice as an argument.
The nosy panda struck again, this time prying into the man’s love life. Married?
“What nonsense is this? Of course I’m not married” Ace got the light impression Georgia did not know what it meant to be married. Maybe she thought it was something all humans did when they reached a certain age, like some sort of biological law they had to obey to; maybe it was customary of minks to celebrate marriages in their early adult years, if minks got married at all.
There was much he could share about the topic. Each and every a sad thing a bear-shaped piece of sunshine such as Georgia was unlikely to understand. At any rate, being in possession of more information would only lead the mink into asking more and more questions and Ace did not feel like being put under interrogation.
Instead of getting himself annoyed, he went for a mild joke told between white teeth formed in a wide smile. “Why do you ask? D’you wanna marry me, Georgia?”
If the panda said yes, and without wishing to hurt her feelings, Ace would remove his hat from his head, hover it Georgia’s ears three times before dropping it onto her furry white head and with magician-like gestures he’d say ‘boom! We’re now married!’, only to explain interspecies marriages between minks and humans were a lot like friendship that never ceased. They would go their separate ways, live their own lives and possibly get married within their own species but they’d never stop being friends. Gullible Georgia had better believe it!
“Hallo! I have heard…Somebody told me…You like…” Georgia made the ‘I KNOW YOUR SECRET’ eyes at Ace as she nodded slowly and a smile stretched across her face. She winked and then she pressed her finger to her lips. “Don’t worry! I’m here to help!” She passed Ace a bamboo stalk. “First, hold this.” She dug into her little bag and pulled out two oranges, which she also passed to Ace, so that Ace was now holding two oranges and a stalk of bamboo.
There was something perverted about Georgia’s naïve face, something pornographic about her smile which her curious choice of phallic vegetables did nothing to attenuate. Fortunately, before things ran out of control, both panda and man shared more or less the same mental age and Ace did not insist on the less innocent image, sending no poor taste jokes Georgia’s way.
He liked… what? The sea? Meat? Cats? Not that those were for eating! None of these was a secret for the mink to keep, so what could she be talking about? Was there anything he liked that mirrored a bamboo stalk? Ace loved his raft, of course, very dearly so, but if she had to be compared to anything in the realm of horticulture, then it ought to be compared to a banana and not to a bamboo stalk!
Unless she meant a ‘who’ instead of a ‘what’. Again, Ace’s relationships and associations were not much of a secret, because he was very transparent and genuine about his feeling towards this or that person. He had no patience for pretence and hated when anyone tried to play him like that.
Whatever it was she was referring to with that cheeky smile and coquettish attitude, Georgia sure was confident in this alleged secret and, more than that, in her ability to help Ace deal with it. Law had warned Ace about his bear’s friend’s penchant for sticking her cute nose in other people’s business like it gave her life! What the panda hoped to achieve with a bamboo stalk and a pair of oranges, he couldn’t begin to fathom.
“Done” he replied, excitement mimicking the panda’s, as he held the items. “What now? Ah, let me guess. Perhaps… this?” Balancing the bamboo on his head, not nearly with as much grace and poise a ballerine would, though efficiently enough for it not to fall, Ace began to juggle the oranges.
It would have been a pretty show to watch had he more fruits to play with. As he didn’t, this was no more than a silly entertainment, as well as an attempt to make something out of the mink’s meager words. Ace could only hope he was going the right direction with these shenanigans.
“Say, Georgia, don’t you have more oranges in that bag of yours? The more, the better, right?”
If putting on a show was part of strategy to help the human with whatever or whoever it was he liked in secrecy, then they might as well aim for the wow factor.
"Ace, I have your chocolates, just as promised." Noah smiled as she handed him a small bag of said chocolate. "They are home made, I hope it's good." She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "It's the thought that counts right?"
Ace’s smile said it all as he accepted the bag of chocolates with an open palm. How kind of her to remember him and consider him worthy of her Valentine’s gifts! What motivated an honest girl like her to lose time on a scoundrel like him?
Though sure of the quality of the treats, Ace feigned neutrality - a useless thing to do after so open a display of joy, but which he insisted on, still - and opened the bag. “Let’s see then” The aroma was enough to make him salivate but he reigned himself in and took a piece to his mouth. It melted against Ace’s warm tongue, releasing a wave of caramel over his taste buds.
“Hmm… I knew it” If Noah was nervously awaiting his approval, Ace was doing nothing to help her ease her nerves with this act of playing it cool. Who was he trying to fool anyway? No glutton such as him could ever succeeded in faking nonchalance over food! “It’s delicious, Noah” He admitted at last, reprising his smile with emphasis anew.
“Had no idea you knew how to make chocolate. So what are you doing?” This time, it was a handful of chocolate that went inside Ace’s mouth, rendering his words as gooey as the filling itself, hard to figure. He spoke with ‘sh’ sounds where there should be none. “It’s Valentine’s, why aren’t you spending the day with a sweetheart?”
A pretty girl like Noah who knew how to make her own bonbons and everything should have more than a couple of guys interested in her. Or work to do with the extra catering the holiday demanded, as many a couple would choose an eatery as the ideal spot for a romantic date.
Sad as it may sound, it didn’t occur to Ace that Noah was choosing to spend her time with him, on this of all days. As far as he could guess, the barmaid was taking a break from her chores by greeting and gifting him.
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.
"If you went on a hiking trip, and a bear ate your shorts, and a monkey stole your food, and a bird stole your shoes, what would you do? You only have your nipples and your boxers as protection against the wilderness. Would you call my name? For help? For salvation?"
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.
Luffy is really proud of himself. He got to run the powder for real last battle, and he didn’t spill it at all. It was hard work, and he was a dirty sweaty mess after lugging it all around the ship, but he helped damnit. After Jozu makes she hes’s clean of gunpowder (only one incident his hair around Ace was enough), Luffy tackles his brother with a stream of excited chatter. Just a bit of bonding time for the division commander and his baby brother.
♠ @gummi-monkey note: after checking with the mun, i went with another meaning for ‘tackle’ as well
Luffy might be rubber but the manner in which he went to Ace was dart-like, not bouncy at all. Sometimes he was almost like a spear, cutting the air on its way forward, paying attention to nothing and no one until it reached its target, even if this carelessness resulted in collateral damage - which is a way of saying sometimes the boy was responsible for the men losing balance and falling on deck, when they didn’t fall onto, over, off the Moby Dick’s railing.
His tongue, too, was a powerful weapon in the fight for ultimate annoyance and the boy lost no time loosening it when he finally intercepted Ace.
“Woah, calm down, Luffy!” Forgetting the item to be safely secured around his neck by the double strap, Ace’s right hand was quick, albeit smooth, in retrieving his hat, after the accident almost sending it flying. He chuckled. “What are you so excited about?”
Through rushed words and excited exclamations, Ace understood the general content of Luffy’s endless monologue (for what they were having couldn’t really be called a dialogue): he was both proud and happy with his performance in the gun deck. Judging by the result of the battle, he had succeeded in his new functions, proving himself useful to Pops and the Whale.
Later, after addressing Curiel and Jozu for a chat, Ace would learn all about Luffy’s bravery from the backstage of war. For now, his priority was to make the boy calm down, lest more accidents happen and Whitebeard run short of sons.
Around them, the air was coloured white and smelt like the sweat of battle and the urine of smoke. It was not a pleasant combo and it was something Ace doubted he’d ever get used to - though, at later times, he would - and so he removed his hat to fan himself with the air created by the swishing of the brim. Awful though it was, war was a necessity; just like breathing, and thus there was nothing to do but to breathe the foul smells in.
There was more in the air than just that. The proud, rather fatherly smile on Ace’s face subsided and now bearing a concerned look he inspected Luffy’s hair with a dog-like sniff. There was a smell he couldn’t detect - potassium nitrate - and another he knew all too well - charcoal. These notes were sweet to a man of fire. But then there was a third, very recognisable smell in his little brother’s head as well - sulfur. Luffy had pampered himself to some gunpowder cologne, topped with the acrid smell of the smoke it produced.
Shit. Apparently Jozu had missed a spot. That was bad news for the two brothers, wasn’t it?
“Lu-Luffy… Go wash yourself at once!” The traces of gunpowder in Luffy’s head were hardly enough to cause a reaction out of Ace, who, by then, had learnt how to control his fiery abilities, but that did not mean they were not enough for sparks to fly.
Sweat trickled down his forehead and it was hard to say what was to blame on the effort of battle and what could be a nervous reaction to the imminent danger - having to repair the Moby’s main mast all by himself after accidentally setting it ablaze was an experience Ace did not feel like reprising, thank you very much!
Neither did he want to offer the crew a free show of fireworks right now. A push to the back sent Luffy on his way to the bathroom. In the current state of affairs, the dynamic duo constituted even a bigger hazard to the Moby Dick than it normally did.
Emil had been running around poking people's boobs and nipples while saying 'boob' or 'boop' but in Ace's case... In his case she poked his nose. "Honk."
Emil was the kind that could always be trusted. Trusted with unpredictability, that is. She always managed to deliver in that field, coming up with the most random, asinine entertainments. It could be too much sometimes, even for Ace, who shared her fondness for foolishness.
He shut his eyelids hard at the poke and sniffed to contain a sneeze. Then, he knitted his brows, put his hands on his waist, and looked at the shorter fishwoman who was always ready for a challenge. “What game are you playing now?”
Honk. Was that supposed to imply Ace had a big nose? And did he? Ace did not pay much attention to his nose in order to have a nicely formed opinion about it, for better or for worse. Maybe it wasn’t so much a matter of size - maybe Ace just had one of those noses worthy of being honked.
Whatever game it was Emil was playing, two could play it.
“Wait! I guess it’s my turn now” As a counter-attack, Ace opened his index and middle fingers in a ‘v’ and pressed the rough fingertips against Emil’s yellow patch of skin. He would never stop finding the band-aid-shaped spot running across her nose cute. “Gotcha!”
Ace’s eyes went from one item to the next, scoping the assemblage in its different parts as well as in its whole. The booze and venison were easy to comprehend at least: lunch! Ace’s stomach, currently in need of a refill, practically sang the word to him and the smell of the meat beckoned him to indulge in its gamey flavour and forget all worries so particular a gift raised.
These other items, though… They were part of no meal ritual Ace knew of as his furrowed brows showed, no flicker of recognition in his eyes. All the worse when the funny-looking male spoke an unknown, mysterious word…
“Magawho now?”
Clearly he was in the wrong, mistaking this Fire Fist for the ‘Maga’ person. Was there a wanted pirate going by this name Ace didn’t know about? It was more than likely, what with the marines printing those bloody posters every day and distributing them all over like candy.
“You got it wrong, bucko. My name’s Portgas” And, as if the stranger had shown the slightest sign of being somewhat impaired of hearing, and in the spirit anyone who does not speak a foreign language but still wants to get a message across, he spoke it loud and slow. “PORT. GAS”
