Part Of Me Is Like "i'm Neglecting My Boy!" But Also, Between Talking To Rabbit At Length About Our Various

part of me is like "i'm neglecting my boy!" but also, between talking to rabbit at length about our various takes on this guy and also writing something completely different offline that's rosinante-centric, technically i'm not.

Do you think Roci loved Doffy?

　　　oh, of course he loved him. it's evident in his behavior:

　for one, rosinante couldn't bring himself to shoot him. even at the cost of his own survival, even knowing what a fundamentally evil person doflamingo is and what a better place the world would be if he just wasn't in it, even knowing that his whole mission was to stop him because, if he didn't, doflamingo was going to hurt a lot more peopleーhe couldn't do it.

doflamingo was so confident he wouldn't do it, too. he stopped his crewmates from interfering, sent all of them away and allowed rosinante to wave his gun around for a solid three minutes of screentime before pulling out his own.

　the second main thing is that rosinante always calls him doffy. there's a reason a lot of people with nicknames are uncomfortable when strangers or acquaintances use them without askingーjust using their nickname in itself implies an emotional closeness. a connection.

rosinante wasn't even doing it for his cover within the familyーhe couldn't speak to the family, so he never used it around them anyway. he had absolutely no reason to continue using the nickname by the time that he left the family with law, but he did anyway. because they were close. actually, the only time he calls him by his full name is when he's speaking to him in an official capacity as a marine, which shows that he easily could slip out of calling him doffy if he wanted to. but he doesn't want to. because they were close.

　because, at the end of the day, doflamingo said it best: he's just like his father. he loves him unconditionally, despite everything. honestly, the reason he went on that mission at all is another way to prove how much he loved him.

he probably knew in his heart that he stood no chance against his brother; he didn't have a devil fruit suited for combat, his clumsiness made him a hazard, and he even admits to himself during the scene with the op op fruit phone call that he cannot refuse doflamingoーwhich, again, is why doflamingo wanted him to eat it in the first place. the only things that made him have second thoughts was the fact that he already ate a devil fruit (so he'd die anyway) and the fact that law was a better candidate for it. if it came down to a standoff, he probably knew he wouldn't be able to do it.

but he still went anyway. because of their connection. because he probably didn't trust anybody else to 'handle' his brother the way that he would handle him. because he loved him.

　 ❝ yeahーfire safety preparedness. i guess that's... one way to look at what i've been doing. ❞

　smoker was, like him, on the fringes of the social circles at hq. not necessarily unpopular, but not popular either. the pair were in a weird class of their own, it seemedーwith smoker being so gruff & too-the-point that he was often at odds with everyone from drill instructors to admirals, and rosinante who was avoided not because of him personally, but the chaos he inadvertently caused.

not that his status as an outcast seemed to matter to the blonde; since he was a child, he had been taught to be cautious of others for his own safety. his surname. his brother. his former status as a world noble. if those tidbits of information about himself made their way to the wrong person, he could imagine himself being crucified upon a stone wall all over again.

but, as things were now, he didn't mind. at least he had smoker for company.

　❝ trust me, i'm... trying to avoid fires. i don't know how, it's just... my hands shake too much and i drop my lighter, sometimes sparks catch my clothesーit just happens. i'm a hazard. ❞

Smoker was resting with his back against the wall, arms crossed as he listened to Rosinante’s panic. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Rosinante worry about being discharged. The man was a good one though, and had connections, so Smoker couldn’t imagine Rosinante getting anything other than a slap on the wrist about this. Like he had every other time. Accidents happened. More involving fire to Rosinante than usual but, well, whatever.

“We all needed the practice anyway. Fires can happen at any time. No one died.” But he did hear about one newbie getting sent to the infirmary for smoke inhalation. “Though maybe we should try to avoid anymore fires.”

And it was the best place to smoke, Smoker found himself out there quite often. He’d gone from a cigarette to a cigar, before he knew it he might need two of them to keep his nerves in check.

　　　❝ understood. i'll... try my best. ❞

　although rosinante didn't smoke anymore (not by choice, but because a collapsed lung in the past left him no other choice if he wanted to recover) and there theoretically shouldn't be any more risk of shaky hands accidentally setting his coat on fire, he never wanted to make promises when it came to hazards. he was just a hazardous personーinjuries seemed to find him no matter what he did. as evident by his ankle injury, at least.

the former spy brushed past the issue, hoping the man wouldn't ask what he meant by that, as was common in the past. 'what? what do you mean 'you'll try'? it's not that hard to avoid getting injured.' you would think so, huh? and yet...

　　❝ your devil fruit is so functional, i'm really impressed! i bet it's fantastic in all sorts of survival situations. you ever need a place to sleep one night you can just... make one. i did a lot of traveling back in the day, i would have loved someone like you around with me! ❞ and not just because he could theoretically create casts & splints for him every time he injured himself...

( @code01746 )

No matter how many times Mr 3 warned people about his lack of knowledge on anything related to medicine; they insisted on calling him first when accidents like that happen. Being reliable was both a compliment and a curse at this point…but it was always a nice opportunity to show off his powers. Which made him extremely thrilled.

“ Fu ha ha ha~ Marvelous, isn’t it? My wax is dense as iron but not as heavy! Although not porous, I left enough openings to let your skin breathe, ga ne. ” The sculptor's hand is raised at his side, palm turned down as wax sipped from, molding itself in one crutch adequate to the other man’s height.

“..........Not flammable, but if exposed in direct contact with fire..for a looong period of time, it will melt. It’s wax after all. ” Mr 3 then softly bonks the blonde head with the crutch, stern eyes gazed up in a scolding way. “ Stay away from circle of fires or anything related to that, ga ne. Shouldn’t be hard. ” 

　the outburst was met with the wary sigh of someone who expected that sort of reaction, but still somehow got their hopes up anyway. disappointed, but not with lawーhe was the one person rosinante could never bring himself to be disappointed in. because none of how law was acting was his fault;

he shouldn't expect a kid who, for the past three years, had been meticulously counting down the days until his death to not be bitter. he shouldn't expect a kid in this much chronic pain on top of all their exhausting hikes to not be irritable. he shouldn't expect a kid constantly being treated like he was subhuman by every stranger they've met to not be angry. and he shouldn't expect a kid he was dragging around from island to islandーconstantly retraumatizing him for what was increasingly feeling like no reasonーto not hate him.

　❝ ...sorry. ❞

law had every right to treat him like this, to treat the world like this, yet even so rosinante was disappointed. he wanted so badly to connect with this kid, to show him that he was on his sideーbut law had been let down so many times that nothing seemed to work. every word of his was misinterpreted, every action of his was annoying, even the silence between them (something law would often demand when rosinante's chattering got too much) seemed to piss him off.

this outburst was larger than usual, though, and the heart executive tried to retain every word of it. he wasn't going to get defensive, he wasn't going to sugarcoat it, he was just going to listen.

the blonde nodded and did as asked, a sharp intake of breath as he straightened his foot enough to slip out of his shoe and peeled off his sock, tucking one inside the other and setting it aside.

　❝ i wasn't trying to, i'm real sorry if i gave you that impression. i just... i'm making this hard enough on you, okay? and you might not think i feel bad about it, but i do. the last thing i want is you having to worry about me. ❞ he cut himself short before he could utter the words 'because i know you're in more pain right now' because he knew that kind of pity would get them nowhere. probably make things worse, actually. he couldn't afford that right now.

    how long was he going to keep this up  — trying to pretend there was nothing wrong? is he doing it because he is just a boy, because as a kid, law is supposed to be blissfully unaware? the possibilities as to why the man insists on tripping over an unstable, undoubtedly painful, ankle swim within the pensive little doctor's mind. either way, it was getting annoying. 

    it takes only one more out-of-the-ordinary stumble, after several hours of observing from behind, before features twist in irritation and brows crease downward. he's fed up with it. if corazón wouldn't just say something was wrong, law would make him.

    the movement is quick and quiet, almost unnoticeable, as law increases his walking pace to deliver as swift and hard a kick as his short leg will allow to the towering man's foot — the foot which was clearly being favored all this time. and as corazón goes down in pain, the boy's small frame doesn't even flinch. he remains stiffly in place, glowering down at the blonde with angry amber hues that almost appear to glow beneath the shadowy brim of his spotted hat. the stare is held for the minute or so it takes the grounded man to make light of the situation. it pisses law off even more.

    ❝ don't lie to me! ❞ he shouts abruptly, with small, pale hands clenched into fists at his sides. ❝ i'm not some dumb kid you need to baby! ❞ his chest heaves, he's already winded — from the trekking, the emotionally riled kick, the sudden yelling. it wasn't a good sign, but what about anything of his physical state is good at this point. it didn't matter. law didn't care. he hated, more than anything, being treated like a fragile, helpless child that need protecting from even the slightest inconveniences. 

    ❝ screw you. ❞ the tone is softer this time, as law's lungs work to regain breath. he drops down to a seated position, gaze finally leaving corazón as he slides his bag off shoulders, and shifts it to his lap to rummage around for supplies. but movement freezes again, briefly, for irises to glance up sharply, to shoot another glare at the blonde. ❝ take your shoe and sock off. idiot. ❞