sent a message
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”
