Eh... Concussion-consmushun. Though, I Wouldn't Know The Square Root Of 64 Under Normal Circumstances,

　　❝ eh... concussion-consmushun. though, i wouldn't know the square root of 64 under normal circumstances, sorry to say. ❞

rosinante waved off the concern as he always did, but one could never be sure if the dismissiveness was him not wanting to worry others, or the hallmark of a man so desensitized to the traumatic day-to-day happenings that it genuinely didn't register as an issue anymore.

　❝ whichever you want to use is fine. both is fine, honestlyーjust don't use rosinante around law. i guess for thirteen years, he thought of me as nothing but cora, so it throws him off whenever i use my real name around him. ❞

not that rosinante was complaining; there was a brief unease in the beginning simply because the name itself was rooted to his codename within the donquixote pirates. hearing it spoken aloud again upon his reunion with law was like he had gone back to a time & place that he'd rather not remember.

but there was also sweetness tied to it. particularly, the memory of the first time law had ever called him coraーover breakfast one morning, and rosinante felt like he was dreaming. the night before it had felt like the sky was crashing down on him, but just hearing that one little name filled his chest with a new determination.

　so, yeah. rosinante was nice. but cora was something he didn't think he'd ever be able to let go of.

@code01746

Ikkaku smiled at the tall blonde's response and shook her head. "If you had brain damage, I'm pretty sure Law would have scanned you for it long before now," she stated. "I'm more concerned about a concussion you might have gotten from that fall."

His clumsiness had certainly been cause for concern, the first time she'd seen it. Really, she had been worried about possible brain damage at the time, but Law had assured her that the man was "just like that." Of course, Ikkaku had still installed extra fire extinguishers throughout the submarine, though she'd demanded that the smoking inside be kept to a minimum, if not outright banned. The oil, gas, and other flammable things that her job involved had made her very conscious of fire safety and with how clumsy this man was, she feared a lit cigarette going flying and setting something ablaze. Her hair included.

She studied him carefully. Partially checking for injuries, but partially just observing this man who was apparently important to Law's past. Another piece to the puzzle that was Trafalgar Law. She adored her captain, but he could be a frustrating enigma.

However, this blonde, sunny idiot was helping her see things a little clearer. At least, she could better understand why Law put up with his Hearts' idiocy and shenanigans when he held such strong affection for this one. Perhaps they reminded Law of him these past thirteen years.

The thought stirred mixed feelings within her, but then again, she had a lot of conflicting feelings since Law returned from Dressrosa.

"Well, you don't look injured. Still, better to check." She held up two fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up? What's the square root of 64? And...what's your name?" Ikkaku asked, slightly sheepish. "I know Law calls you 'Cora-san,' but I feel like that name's got some history. What would you rather I call you?" It was something she'd been wanting to know, but unsure how to ask. Sure, Law had introduced his savior to his crew, but it felt odd, calling him the title that Law did without permission. But the name Donquixote Rosinante had its own history attached to it. So she'd rather hear from him what he'd like to be called.

　　 ❝ twenty three. ❞

　the answer flew from his mouth like it had been dislodged from his brain from a direct smack to the back of his head. ❝ his birthday is in october, so... almost twenty four. ❞

rosinante briefly thought about diluting the statement with an "i think" to make it sound less instant. less like he had his birthday memorized. less like he celebrated it in his own way, a plate of grilled fish & mumbling out a "happy birthday" in the silence of his room, every single year. like he didn't have every basic detail about the kid memorized because those memories & details were all he had left at the moment. but, from the way the donquixote had just made a fool of himself blabbering about his trauma, it wouldn't have mattered anyway. clearly he was stuck on the past. clearly he couldn't let anything go. clearly, he thought about that boy every day.

　　❝ law. trafalgar law. ❞

Drake raised an eyebrow. If Rosi was "old as dirt" so was he. He wasn't much younger than the blonde. To Drake, it sounded like there was another deep reason as to why he didn't want to join, and it wasn't because of age.

Was it his brother? Was Rosi that scared of Doflamingo? Drake had heard of the man being an absolute brute, and terrifying beyond belief: taking over countries, killing without remorse. But, surely, Drake could protect Rosi? No, he wouldn't force the older Marine to do something he didn't want to do. Instead, he decided to help the man, if anything. SWORD was better than spending life farming secluded on some forsaken island, right?

He gave a nod, though, respecting the decision. Another thought occurred to him. ❝ That kid you saved- about how old would he be about now? Have you kept track of him? Found out what he's been doing? What's his name? ❞ The kid had to be an adult by now.

Plus, talking about the kid that Rosi once saved would maybe help the man to ease up. He seemed to care a lot about him, and Drake wanted to see if that he could help the kid, too, if Drake came across him, or at least look after him.

Drake gave a slight smirk at Rosi's comment, finding it more than amusing Rosi truly thought he was old enough to be above the "New Gen brats."

　faced with such genuine protesting, rosinante started to backtrack so quickly, he surprised even himself. giolla, in particular, had been furious with him in the past for shot putting children off the deck of the numancia and into the ocean (with the knowledge they were decent swimmers, of course) yet all she got in return with an indifference stare & shrug.

rosinante didn't blame giolla for yelling; he recognized his behavior was awful and was prepared he'd have to reckon with whatever deity was out there for it someday. but, the way rosinante saw it, it was either force them out of the gang now, or they'd meet an even more gruesome fate in the future once doflamingo had fully molded their minds to his liking.

(though, there was something ironic about a criminal like her caring about the safety of young lives when she has certainly taken more than a handful herself, but that was beside the point.)

but this was someone who was in no position to be concerned, being concerned. the gesture twisted his stomach & amplified his feelings of guilt that he often tried to tamper down by thinking of 'the greater good'.

　【 okay. okay. i understand. i'll season their favorite candies with pepper. how's that sound? they need to be reprimanded somehow, it's unacceptable to do this. 】

Watching the male write that he would take care of the kids, her heart skipped a beat in fear of what he could have meant by that. Finally the other cracked his knuckles to indicate what he meant by that statement panic and fear kicked in. Even though the kids were brats, Stella held no ill will towards them nor wished for them to be beaten. Her mind did not even register what he wrote down next as she was in a full panic attack.

The female's whole body was trembling badly as tears streamed down her cheeks as memories from her time with a Celestial Dragon came rushing back. She remembered how the children slaves were treated and it broke her heart as no child deserved to be beaten. Her body moved forward on its own closer to the other. Her feet knocked over the tray of food and the collar around her neck pulled her backwards from the sudden movement.

Falling to her knees, she quickly bowed on the ground to beg and plead with the male to take everything out on her instead. "P-please do-don't hurt the children!" Her whole body sobbed as she continued to beg him. "P-please no child deserves to be hurt. If you have to hit someone please just take it out on me instead. Just don't ha-harm them!" Whimpers left her throat as her vision was cloudy from her tears as the memories were engraved in her mind.

i am so mad.

@sillygum ❤️'d for a thing.

　❝ i'm surprised law let's you call him torao. did you come up with that nickname yourself? ❞

　not that rosinante was one to talk, near-exclusively addressing his favorite little boy gremlin with some variation of "kiddo" or "little shit" despite the fact that law has realistically outgrown them. perhaps he was making up for lost time. making up for the thirteen years they spent apart where rosinante couldn't (lovingly) annoy him with his dozens of nicknames.

　❝ i think i've heard your crew call him that, as well, so you don't mind if i steal it, do you? i love devising new nicknames for that kid, but a nickname from a friend seems extra special. ❞

　　　❝ uh... maybe? ❞

　rosinante's reply had been startled out of him, not expecting to be approached for conversation and, frankly, very much in his own thoughts. his mind went blank upon hearing the name, and as a result his voice was strained & unsure.

his trips to hq were always uneventful; he had long retired, so he wasn't there on work-related reasons (though, he did pass off any relevant tips he happened to come across if he found it worth reporting) but to visit ex-colleagues and, of course, his adopted father. a quick trip, in & out. it was hard to say he went 'unnoticed' because, with his size & the way he often dressed, he of course stood out everywhere he went no matter how low he hunched. still, as the years went on, his presence to most seemed like less of a novelty & he all but faded into the hustle & bustle of the commotion around him.

perhaps it was fitting that someone equally as eccentric would happen to approach him.

　　　　　❝ you aren't... a friend of his, are you? ❞

It wasn't often that the swordsman was called to the Marine Headquarters. Whatever it was, it ought to have been rather important to the higher-ups if they called for him personally. Others would have perhaps felt honoured to be called upon by the Admirals, though Mihawk really couldn't have cared less. If they really resorted to calling him specifically to get whatever business they sorted out, they truly were desperate and their own troops incompetent.

On his way out, Mihawk had crossed paths with somebody. Now normally he wasn't the type to stop and make small talk, though what struck him about the blond was the coat he wore. A feathery one, at that. He just so happened to know only one other person with such peculiar style, though in a much more eye-soringly vibrant pink shade.

❝ I don't suppose you know a certain Donquixote Doflamingo? ❞

@code01746 ♥'d