Alright. See Queue In The Next Town. (queue) - Tumblr Posts

　❝ i see! ❞

　rosinante hung to her words, reddish-brown eyes receptive & alert, a smile that shifted from warm joy, to something a bit more pensive and perhaps.... embarrassed as the conversation turned to the marines.

　❝ we haven't really talked about it muchーmy connection to the marines, i mean. i lied to him about not being involved for months, and the night i finally admitted it was the night we got... separated. ❞

　separated. that was certainly a more docile way of phrasing what had happened than 'i was hospitalized on a marine base after almost being murdered by my brother & law ran for his life in the opposite direction', though rosinante imagined nami had already heard an abridged version of from law. plus, there was a time & place to delve into deeper topics with people, but a first time meeting between you & your son's partner didn't seem like it fit the bill.

　❝ i'm sure he's told you everything, about how much he hates them. for what the world government did to his home country. part of my lying was i couldn't risk him not trusting me & running off while we were on the road, so i just kept lying. but that brat is too smart for his own good sometimes, so of course he figured out i was a marine before i told him, but i... doubt he's that happy about it, y'know? i don't really bring it up. ❞

Oh. Not a question after all, but a statement that had her cheeks burning brighter than they had been moments before. Of course she was special- Law realized that or he wouldn't have been so open with his attention and affections towards her. Of course she knew he didn't give that to everyone, considering he was still insistent he didn't like her captain half the time.

"I guess you can say we're a lot more alike than you'd think," she muses out loud, twining a ringlet around her finger in thought. Law was special too, or she wouldn't have been so open to accepting that their feelings for one another went further than mutual attraction. To find that they had much more in common than stubborn natures and quick tempers wasn't really much of a surprise. "We both wear our hearts on our sleeves, after all."

A hand reached across her own chest to touch the swirl of ink that sat over her visible healed scar, not sure if Rosinante would pick up on the meaning otherwise. "Mine's a reminder of my ex-marine savior too."

Talking about Bellemere was never easy, but with Law it had felt just as every part of other step of their relationship- completely natural. She had cried a little just at the mention of her, just like now her eyes misted over at the thought of her now.

[ hiding ] sender finds out that receiver has hidden an injury from them // (law) // [𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.]

　　　　❝ look, it's... it's fine... ❞

　the jig was up. after hours of the little boy giving rosinante sideways glances, making passing comments about just how much worse his already horrific balance was than usual, and questioning why he kept stopping so muchーlaw finally called him out on it. well, not so much law called him out on it, rather he quite literally kicked the answer out of him.

three hours into their trek to the next town, the spy reached his limit. his sprained ankle wasn't going to take him any further. not tonight, and not through the uneven terrain of loose rocks & jutting tree roots that was the forest floor. if he fell, there was a real concern he wouldn't be able to get back up on his own, and certainly not with the help of a twelve year old. and so, when he saw the entrance of a tiny cave at the base of a rock formation, a perfect shelter for the two of them, he jumped at the chance to convince law they should turn in early.

rosinante had it all planned out; he was going to send law to get some firewood, and use the moment alone to rifle through the little doctor's bag of medical supplies & fix himself up somehow before law even knewー

and then law kicked him. right in the heel. not intentionallyーhe must have just been walking too close & rosinante walking too slowーbut it didn't matter. the jig was up. rosinante was on the ground and yelping now, panting & muttering expletives for a solid thirty seconds before he finally composed himself up to speak again.

　　　❝ it's not a big deal. ❞ probably not the best idea to lie to a doctor.

　 ❝ oh, a whole three hours? my mistake. that's plenty of sleep, ❞ rosinante muttered sarcastically. he was careful to keep his tone on the lighter side as to not unintentionally start an argument, which was a real possibility when law was exhausted like this. from his seat on the floor, he leaned forward on one elbow as he listened, forehead scrunched sympathetically. ❝ i can imagine, i mean... i know how important she is to you. ❞

even during those short six months rosinante & law had traveled together back when law was a child, the spy recalled just how attached he had become to their little boat. it was their home, their bedーsomething he would vent to, something he would personify. there were a lot of memories on that little boat. and that was just six months; law had been sailing on the polar tang for the last ten years. he couldn't imagine how much stronger that fondness was after living on

　❝ do you think getting a new vessel means you'll have to scrap her, though? why not... leave her with me? ❞ he suggested. ❝ at my place, i mean. you could still get a new ship, but... you can see her anytime you want. that's a compromise, right? ❞

"i slept three hours last night," the heart captain sighs, glaring a little at the blond although in more of a sulky way than anything. he's not sure if he ever had a healthy habit of sleep, even as a child, he was guilty of reading under the blankets until dawn more than one night. however, law knows cora tends to be worried but there is little he can do, he's just too stubborn to try and let go of bad habits. "recently, the polar needs more repairs, not the youngest ship anymore. i guess, it's time to start considering a follow up but giving up home, it's not so easy... it's also not like i could simply get a new submarine but a normal ship seems odd as well." he sighs deeply, it might be an odd worry but it had been on his mind, how to tell his crew about it? the polar had carried them for more than a decade now.

　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. ❞

　　　❝ 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. ” 

　rosinante leaned into the playful atmosphere, letting the shove knock him over (though, as clumsy as he was, he doubted law could tell). he grinned. ❝ hm? what face? my face always looks like this. ❞

a walk sounded like a solid plan; although the circumstances were different now, when they were traveling rosinante remembered circling his & law's campsite for hours during nights where it was too dangerous to not keep watch. too much unpredictable wildlife nearby. too many citizens from neighboring villages & towns eager to 'put down' the boy with the last-remaining case of white lead disease to eradicate it for good. walking was the only way to ensure he stayed not only awake but alert.

it was also probably better if law could power through his sleepiness for the rest of the day, and perhaps even exhaust himself into getting a better night's sleep.

　❝ alright, kiddo; walking it is. how about we get some food, too. when was the last time you ate? a full meal, not just rice crackers or a single leftover onigiri. ❞

golden gaze follows the pattern on kikoku's scabbard, fingers tapping thoughtfully against it as if he could figure it out somehow. his personal thoughts and emotions belonged behind when it came to everything related to the crew. they are a team, and making decisions together is an important part of their flawless work. while it is his duty as a captain to ensure he can provide them with a ship, a home, it would be wrong to think of the future of the polar tang without the others.

"i will talk to the crew about it, see what they think about it. that conversation is overdue either way. i avoided it for as long as i could, but i guess it's better to do it while we still have the time so they all can prepare for it eventually."

the pirate leans in before giving the taller one a playful shove. "why are you making this face? i know i'm a bit serious, but…" inked fingers adjust his hat, giving him a moment to shelter his expressions. "let's go for a walk. i feel some fresh air and moving legs will do good after little sleep." there he goes again, failing to be any good with words. how is it that this gets harder the older he gets?

　　 ❝ three eye? mm... i haven't heard anything. sorry. ❞

　not that rosinante was exactly a well of knowledge when it came to the comings & goings of the surrounding area. he lived in the middle of the woods, for seas' sake, and the only 'news' he was concerned himself with following was the morning paper and keeping his ears open for sightings of a boyーno, no, he would be a young man nowーin a spotted, white fur cap.

but, still, the three eye people were a rare sight, he knew that much. doflamingo had told him so; they fetched a high price at the auction house, he remembers him saying. tribe members were supposedly highly sought after due to their ability, among other things, to read ponegylphs. because of this, rosinante could only surmise they were deliberately trying to hide themselves out of fear of persecution. fear of being hunted. he could empathize with that.

a single sighting of a member of the three eye tribe was certain to attract attention, so him not being able to recall anything recently solidified his thinking. the moment the statement left his lips, he was taken in by her obvious disappointment. he almost wanted to apologize. but offering his home seemed like an okay consolation.

　❝ well... i have some spare rooms here, if you'd be interested. i live by myself currently, so you're more than welcome to stay as long as you need. ❞

the disappointment on pudding's face is hard to conceal even though the poor man has done nothing wrong - another place that has nothing to do with her ancestor's land, no sight of them whatsoever and at this point she's starting to think that they might not even be around anymore.

"well, that's a bummer." voice trails, map put back inside her pocket. this brings another problem - what to do next; in any other moment pudding would have given up and gone back home, her life is still there and all she has to do is picking it from where she's left it. would her citizens still want her as minister though? are the ministries even a thing still? sigh pushes past lips at the thought - albeit safe and coddling, pudding knows well that her old life has to stay in the back and the future ahead is what matters the most.

"uhm, three eye?" hand raises slowly, fingers pushing bangs aside from her forehead to show her own third eye. "i'm looking for them but i guess this is another dead end." gaze studies her surroundings for a moment, wondering whether to go back to the town she came from or the next. "do you happen to know where i can find a place for the night? i definitely need to gather my thoughts before continuing to chase ghosts."

　❝ mhm. i get you. ❞

　unfortunately. ace's words hit right at rosinante's heart, dredging up complicated feelings from his boyhood with a kind of precision that he wasn't even sure law could have managed. he never harbored the same resentment for his father like ace seemed toーnever could quite bring himself to feel justified in being angry, despite it allーbut he grew up watching his older brother echo much of the same thoughts. suffer the same frustrations. or, was he imagining things? was he doomed to see pieces of his older brother in every person he would ever meet for the rest of his life?

he disregarded the thought for now, one elbow firm on the tavern table dividing them as he leaned closer. it tended to be a struggle a man of rosinante's height to meet someone's eyes (not so much for him, but he felt guilt that most people who gave him prolonged eye-contact would have to crane their necks or lean comically far back every time) but rosinante wasn't the best with his words. eye contact was an important step in filling in the gaps. or, at least trying to.

　❝ i'm not trying to take away from how you feel. but it's important to recognize sometimes people don't always take every possibility into account. it doesn't mean you can't be angry when you're reaping the consequences of that, but it also doesn't always mean they're evil. people are flawed, ace. i know i am. ❞

@code01746 , corazon asked : “Even the best-intentioned parents end up damaging their kids.”

❝  intentions  ain't  actions,  cora.  ❞  his  lips  roll  into  a  line.  speaking  of  intentions  was  like  throwing  brief  words  for  the  wind  to  carry.  even  if  roger  had  the  best  intentions  before  death,  it  left  a  weight  on  the  pirate  prince's  shoulders  that  was  hard  to  carry.  maybe  the  words  of  this  man  sparked  a  brief  frustration  within  the  flaming  heart.  thick  eyebrows  quickly  formed  a  frown  upon  the  fire  fist's  visage,  as  he  leans  back  in  his  seat.  ❝  i  could  have  the  best  intentions  in  burnin'  down  a  village.  but  i'd  leave  people  homeless  and  only  with  ashes  of  their  previous  home.  ain't  it  fucked  up  ?  to  have  best  intentions  and  takin'  away  everythin'  ?  ❞

　　❝ rosinante. ❞

　he let his guard slip a little further; if the younger man was offering a name, he may as well be polite and introduce himself properly. it was only fair.

rosinante took the card with an etiquette that was polite & practiced: eye contact, a nod of acknowledgement, and gripping the corners with both hands. he was careful to slide in into a small pocket sewn into the inside of his shabby coat rather than allowing it to get crushed or wrinkled in his jean pocket.

it was a quite the contrast: a man looking so ratty & disheveled showing such respect for piece of paper. but he supposed, even after all this time, those few short years he spent as a noble as a childーclasses on etiquette, manners & allーhad somehow altered his brain chemistry. a piece of paper deserved more care than himself, it seemed. what an interesting priority system his brain had.

　❝ thank you. though, i'll say i'm not suited for any kind of active combat. i don't really do that. not anymore. ❞ he could have sworn his old chest wounds started to itch as the words left him and the memory filtered in. he resisted the urge to start pawing at himself, afraid that any bizarre movements would put his companion on edge again. ❝ infiltration & espionage i have more luck with but... not by much. ❞ hey, doflamingo hasn't found him yet. that has to count for something.

CURIOUS to say the least, having a protective detail with the marines. Even for a short period. Provided a bit more convincing to the revolutionary that he truly has long been defected from their relative's life of crime ( but still taken with a grain of salt ) .

The Revolutionary Army is spread out to ensure their army wouldn't be so easily wiped out if Marines catch wind of their whereabouts. Only moving when danger is lurking right around the corner. He remembers the base of their operations seldom moving around. Sometimes movement causes more RIPPLES in the water that others can NOTICE. Their locations are kept heavily behind counter-surveillance techniques && disruptors to encrypt their communications. The only contact to them made by outsiders were through special cards with numbers to assist anyone in need. && hopes that it was in good faith rather than capture.

Brows furrow once the topic momentarily shifts to information his group had suspicions about. What can't be told to him was the knowledge of missions being made to send members there, but a strange lapse in memory of exactly WHO was sent that way ( if any, Sabo still feels like the names are just out of his reach ). It's enough to garner a troubled, almost FRUSTRATED look on Sabo, giving away that he might know more than he lets on in the moment.

" I suppose," Sabo concedes. From the inner lining of his pocket, he pulls out a card with a number. He hands it out to the other. " If you're tired of running though, I'm sure there's something we can work out. It's not going to be for free, " given who the other is, he might need to INTERVENE as well in that, if the other decides to make contact, " but you can say I was the one who gave you this card. My name is Sabo. " About time he gave a name, didn't he ?

　　　❝ true, ❞ rosinante conceded with a frown.

　a unfortunate side effect of the relentless hostility the pair had faced in nearly every town they've visited over the last few months was the occasional trend of having to abandon their campsites on next-to-no notice. not because of wildlife too large for them to scare off, nor an unexpected shift in the terrain like an impending mudslideーbut because of people.

it was always people. a butcher who decided to try putting his cleavers to use butchering something else for a change. a lumberjack who nearly chopped the spy's left hand off with his axe. a hunter ready to do the "noble deed" of ridding the nearby woods of the lone sufferer of white lead disease, as if law were a wolf decimating local livestock and not a child.

the attacker was someone new each time, but the protocol was always the same: rosinante would drop what he was doing, signal to law it was time to go, scoop the kid up (sometimes a little too roughly as emaciated as he was, but rosinante always apologized for it later) and they would run. 'evacuations', rosinante dubbed them; an unfortunate, but necessary procedure he had to drill into law's head, no different than his lessons on what to do if law saw a bear, or what to do if the pair got separated.

　the reality of those drills, though, was in the haste to get away the two of them didn't always have time to grab more than what was within arm's reach. sometimes anything that wasn't already on their person or could fit easily in their pockets had to be left in the dust. rosinante nearly had to leave his feather coat behind once when an inopportune cramp in his rotator cuff made it impossible to put on, before deciding at the last second to swaddle law with it like a baby bird in a nest.

their singular fishing pole was one such casualty of their last escape, something the donquixote hadn't realized until taking survey of what they did manage to salvage (mostly goods that rosinante had the foresight to store on their little boat rather than lug up to the campsite). so, law had looked through their supplies already, huh?

well, he supposed that presented him with another opportunity.

　　❝ guess that means i'll get to teach you how to make one, right? ❞

        As it turned out, the third time was not the charm.

        Nor -despite all of Corazon's optimistic insistence otherwise- was the fourth. Or the fifth or the sixth, or even the seventh. By the time they left the eighth hospital behind them, Law had given up on his futile protests, leaving the last of the stubborn determination it took to remind the Donquixote executive he didn't want to do this in the snow behind them as they fled the local militia hellbent on chasing the white monster away.

        That night, too tired to whine and more despondent than he'd ever allowed the man to see him before, Law had clung silently to Corazon's feathered cape, fingers trembling from cold and the unsuccessful attempt to keep tears at bay as he gave voice to the thought they must surely both be thinking.

        I'm not getting better, Corazon. I'm getting worse.

      The words were neither plea nor protest; the soft voice was devoid of its usual biting sarcasm. For the first time since the fall of his hometown, this was not the unfeeling statement of fact he'd delivered that day before the Family, but the lament of a boy born with less than his fair share of days before him - and one who'd spent far too many of those mourning more loss than many with thrice his allotted time would ever know.

        And yet. The words had no sooner left his lips than Corazon's shoulders stiffened beneath his palms. But where Law might have expected a sigh or silence, the man simply paused for a moment before shrugging his shoulders, shifting the boy higher upon his back as he pressed on against the sharp, frostbitten wind.

        Don't give up yet!! Corazon insisted. The next time's the charm!! Either you get cured, or you die. This the moment of truth, so be strong!

        These were the words Law turned over in his mind several days later, the memory of the fierceness behind them drowning out the freshness of the ninth unsuccessful hospital visit earlier that same morning. They'd echoed in his mind throughout the whole encounter. Made it difficult to focus on anything - the hatred in the hospital staffs' eyes, the large man's outrage on Law's behalf... All of it had seemed oddly distant to him. For the first time, Law hadn't bothered crying when they'd rushed the two away: nor had he offered any protest or indication where his thoughts had taken him feeling Corazon's silent, curious stare upon them when they'd finally made it here to set up camp. He'd simply shrugged and looked out across the sea, lost in thought until the silence became too much for his companion to bear.

        When he did speak, his question was met with a curious tilt of the boy's head. He wondered what Corazon had made of his unusual quietude, and where the man's own thoughts had wandered to in the hours they'd spend soundlessly staring out at the sea. Did he know what Law was thinking? Had he read something in the set of the boy's shoulders that had kept him from the usual insistence on the next one, for sure? Realized something had shifted even Law himself had not worked out yet and spent the time pondering the best way to break the silence?

        ❝ No, I don't, ❞ he disputed for the sake of it - though the adage was vaguely familiar in the back of his mind. Enough to piece together the gist of it, at any rate. For the moment he was too preoccupied with the thought of grilled fish, stomach rumbling as if to remind him he'd sat thinking through the normal lunch hours. ❝ And no they didn't. We don't have a fishing pole, though, ❞ he pointed out.

@celestiialnotes // continued from [ here ]

　　　❝ sorry you had to hear all of that. ❞

　'all of that' being the beating rosinante endured all those years ago at the hands of doflamingo & the other family members. the former spy can't say he regretted his decision to hide law where he didーhe had to lead doflamingo to that exact spot, to ensure he saw the chest and hopefully (unwittingly) carried law away out of the birdcageーbut that came with the cost of making law a captive audience to the whole thing.

　❝ i'm sorry for a lot of things, actually. but i'm not sure in what order i should apologize in. i don't know if i should say 'thank you' for doing what i couldn't, or 'i'm sorry' for making you feel like you were obligated to do any of this. i also kind of want to yank you by your ear until it falls off for putting yourself in that kind of danger, but... i think you deserve to relax. huh, mr. hero? ❞

　　❝ can you undo my arm restraints so i can feed myself for once? ❞

　rosinante tried his best to pretend he didn't hear the bitterness in older brother's voice, like he always did. out of annoyance for being talked down to, a guilt for daring to make his psychopathic brother upset, or a sick mixture of bothーhe couldn't be sure exactly why it bothered him. the tone left him feeling scrutinized & small, no different from when they were children and doflamingo would make him feel guilty for daring to 'lash out' and defend himself when the elder donquixote played too rough.

he turned his back to his brother, something he was always apprehensive to do but he needed to allow doflamingo access to the locking mechanism on today's restraints: a pair of binders attached at his forearms, keeping them flush with his back. a leather strap functioning as a collar was attached via a clip, a shorter strap than usual lessening the amount of slack and ensuring that rosinante was at peak posture at all times. his back & shoulders had been aching for hours, but he knew better by now than to complain about it aloud.

rosinante paused, fearing his tone would be perceived as annoyedーhow dare he, when the king has been so gracious by allowing him to live & serve himーor worse, like he was ordering the king to do somethingーa sure sign he didn't know his place, which can & had led to beatings at the hands of the other executives. he softened his voice, shrinking his already deflated, defeated presence. food was enough of a motivator now. enough be quiet. enough to behave. ❝ ...please. ❞

DOFLAMINGO SURVEYED HIS KINGDOM'S PRINCE, HIS ONCE-BELOVED BROTHER  ㅤㅤㅤ⸻   ㅤHis regal figure leaned back in an intricately carved throne,   a piercing gaze upon his younger brother,  Rosinante. Behind the polished lenses of his glasses, his eyes,  brilliant shades of blues & gold , harbored a potent mixture of resentment and disappointment. His grip tightened around the neck of his wine bottle, its contents dripped messily from the corner of his lips. 

Rosinante, once a trusted member of the royal family, now stood before the king with the weight of his betrayal heavy upon his shoulders. His punishment had been dealt, but for Doflamingo, it was insufficient. the traitorous brother, had already faced punishment, yet the monarch felt an unquenchable thirst for a more severe retribution. The sins committed by his brother had yet to be fully atoned for, lingering like a shadow. Sins lingered, unforgiven, and the price to be paid had not been fulfilled in the king's eyes. Reconciliation lingered in the air, for blood ties ran deep, but the betrayal had etched an indelible mark, Reconciliation was just a concept that danced just out of reach for the blond. Despite the familial bond that tethered them, the memory of Rosinante's treachery ignited a fire within him, leaving behind a bitter taste that refused to fade. The desire for retribution pulsed through his veins, urging him to demand more, to extract a price equal to the magnitude of his brother's transgressions.

As Doflamingo's gaze bore into him, Rosinante could practically feel the weight of his brother's judgment, a heavy burden that threatened to crush him beneath its oppressive force. Yet, even in the face of such condemnation, the benevolent king  couldn't deny the twisted sense of satisfaction that stirred within him. For every drop of blood that stained his hands, he found a perverse comfort in knowing that he had served his purpose, that he had proven his loyalty to the crown, even if it came at the cost of his own morality. The golden figure of Doflamingo, resplendent in his flamboyant attire, offered a not so friendly smile. His words, dripping with saccharine malice, cut through the silence like a knife, each syllable laced with a venomous intent that left no room for doubt.

     ❝      It seems you have done as told, Rosi,    *      he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken threats.  ❝      Good job indeed. I know it must've been hard for you to withstand such deprivation. But fear not, brother, for you have earned your reward.    *     

With those words hanging in the air like a death sentence, Rosi's fate was his to unfold, keeping him trapped in a web of his making from which there was no escape. 

　　❝ yeah? ❞

　　seesawing between coherence & delirium, it was an enormous task for rosinante to keep his emotions from running riot. to not pounce and squeeze the daylights out of law in relief; to not fall apart and start weeping at his bedside in joy; to not start shouting, to not start cheering, to not unleash every emotion he'd been holding back the past six months in one, cathartic storm.

law's words had given rosinante a second wind; adrenaline shocked him from the edges of exhaustion, a ball kept airborne by a last minute spike mere centimeters from the ground. a slowing heart rate began stabilizing. drooping eyelids sprung open. blood pumped in his ears. he breathed.

this is the moment the both of them had been working towards for so long and it lived up to every expectation of how euphoric it felt. a dying child, safe at lastーan experience worth more than all the treasure in the seas & all the gold in the skies. he was thrilled to hear those words.

　but rosinante had to keep that excitement in check for now. law had only just awoke, and not by choice if the length of time his companion had to sit there prodding his shoulders was any indication. the older man wagered he would have slept through dinner if he hadn't stepped in. the poor thing was likely as exhausted & aching as rosinante was; burdening him with that many emotions on top of that seemed too cruel.

the young donquixote also knew from experience this boost in energy wouldn't last. adrenaline could only carry you so far for so long; he learned that the hard way, fighting to force law to swallow the op op fruit one moment and experiencing a total collapse of his strength that left him facedown in the snow the next. getting too animated now would only hasten the crash he was struggling so hard to keep at bay.

　not that he was fretting over it. after all, they had all the time in the world to celebrate now. preferably after they both had a hot meal, a bath, and a good nap.

　❝ of course you don't, ❞ in place of a hug, he captured a hand and squeezed reassuringly. ❝ you got rid of it all, remember? ❞ eyes tracked across the room to a bucket on a lone shelf, contents concealed and secured tightly with a tarp & some rope.

for now, it was in the corner of the room with the least foot traffic until rosinante could figure how exactly he was supposed to dispose of a biohazard like lead in a way that wouldn't unintentionally infect another poor creature. another thing to worry about after a good nap, he decided.

❝ i knew i made the right choice giving you the fruit. i knew you could do it, kid. you did this. you. ❞

        Safe, Cora told him. They were safe. They had made it. The danger - at least that in the form of the Donquixote family, and at least for the moment - was past. Behind them. They had done it - everything Corazon had told him they would. Stolen the fruit; escaped the pirates, the family, and the marines alike. Made it to shelter, though Law could remember little of the frantic jaunt to get here. Of the hours that followed, he recalled more with every moment. The struggle to stay awake and the frustration of trying to feel the fruit's abilities into existence. The determination in Cora-san's voice, large hands that felt heavier than usual on Law's shoulder's as he'd pleaded with him to stay awake, to keep trying, to not give up despite tiny knees that threatened to buckle beneath him. Not now, Law, he’d pleaded. Not when they were this close. When they’d made it this far. 

        Just a little bit longer, insisted his would-be savior. And somehow, the boy had managed, forcing himself to focus on the familiar tones of Cora’s voice in his ears. On the promise that it would all be worth it, as he’d insisted it would all along, if he could only endure one more island. One more hospital. One more heartbreak as they were rejected time and time again, chased from island to island in a series of one more nights upon a threadbare pile of blankets. All in the promise of more days to come.

                           -- You will get older, Law. I’m going to make sure of it. 

        He’d heard the hope in that voice even as tiny hands trembled around the paper they’d been scrawled upon. At some point, he’d come to rely on it, conjuring the memory each time spirits threatened to crumble with the passing of another unsuccessful day. One more, he’d thought, until the first blurred into what felt like the thousandth. 

        But they had done it. After everything they’d been through - six months and more hospitals than Law ever wanted to remember again, they’d found the cure Cora had always sworn they would. Or at least…

        Amber eyes blinked slowly, then widened as the full implication of their situation began to creep in. Corazon’s question hung forgotten in the air between them, small hand lifting to settle upon the area beneath his ribcage. Had they done it? They’d made it to this inn, to be certain, and the horrible taste of the devil fruit was too fresh upon Law’s tongue to be anything less than reality. The exhaustion in his bones too heavy to be imagined. And even daydreams once fueled by comic books had never conjured something as outlandish as the whirring blue dome he was sure he’d enveloped himself in the night before: the liver, devoid of all the lead he’d carved away from it, shoved back into place before the world went dark around him. 

        It hit him, then, finally. The words had been there and his memory had provided the images, his body the physical reminder of the events of the last two days, but only now did he truly begin to understand. He was tired. So damn tired. But beyond that, there was… nothing. No fever. No pain (at least not any beyond that he felt of his external wounds). He felt something he could only distantly remember, from a time he’d still had parents and a sister and a hometown. He felt… okay, he realized. 

        ❝I think…❞ Eyes that had gone unseeing blinked once more. Then he turned to the man who’d dragged him away from Spider Miles all those weeks ago - who had forced him to endure hardship after hardship and had the unspeakable audacity of giving a damn about him in the first place. Who had promised he’d have a future - a promise the boy began to suspect he’d delivered on but didn’t dare to acknowledge. Hope was a tiny, fragile thing, and he couldn’t bring himself to shatter it by looking to see if white patches still adorned his skin. (Would they still, even if the operation had been successful? He didn’t know - nobody had ever survived the white lead disease, after all.) His voice was smaller and more fragile still. ❝I think it worked,❞ he admitted, the words little more than a whisper - as if he and illusion both may shatter if he said them any louder. ❝I don’t feel it anymore.❞

　rosinante nearly slipped into panic again, the look on law's face being too complicated for his addled brain to read with any sort of clarity past noting he looked distressed. before he could ask what was wrong a tiny weight crashed into him, stalling out his thoughts; he swayed with the momentum but caught himself in no small part due to his genuflect position (bracing the floor with his good ankle, thank the seas) rooting him in place. a strained gasp left his mouth, partly surprise, partly because the contact reminded his body of the mosaic of bullet holes & bruises beneath his shirt.

　❝ ー kiddo? hey. c'mere... ❞

once his brain caught up with his body, the former executive refused to let that pain interfere with the moment. arms wrapped instinctually around law's lower back, first loosely, then squeezing tighter once the sound of sniffling hit his ears. in that moment, rosinante made a realization: law had never hugged him before.

not of his own accord, anyway; only when prompted: for stability while being carried on rosinante's back, for getting as close as possible to share body heat while sleeping in the cold, or reflexively bracing arms around the man's neck when picked up. always begrudging, always utilitarian, always framed as something unwanted & inconvenient. but here law was, wanting a hug. needing a hug.

　❝ law... ❞ his voice shook and tears of his own were becoming a very real threat. all of it was bittersweet: the hug, the sound of the boy's criesーrosinante felt his heart being wrung like a soaked washcloth. but there also was a relief in finally seeing law let go, after watching him steadily bottle more & moreーfrustration, tears, painーfor the past six months. for the last three years. careful not to let his guard down, careful to push back any attempts at comfortーalmost like he was prepared to let those feelings die with him.

but now law wasn't dying, and suddenly all those emotions were being let go. finally. finally. as much as rosinante's heart couldn't take the sound, wanted so desperately to make him laugh or distract him in some other wayーpart of him knew law just needed to let those emotions run their course. so, he held him, unsure of what to say ー and barely coherent as is ー but resolved to at least say something supportive.

　❝ ...take your time. because you know what you've got? all the time in the world, kid. to laugh, cry, grieve, celebrate... whatever you need. i got you. i'll be right here, law. ❞

        ❝Well, yeah...❞ Law began. Still half-dazed from the weight of heavy sleep upon his shoulders, he was finding it harder than usual to put words to his thoughts - or rather to the onslaught of emotion he sensed lurking on the edges of consciousness, only waiting for him to blink away enough disorientation before it lunged. ❝I thought I had, but...❞

        He trailed off once more, a tiny hand reaching up to the one still resting upon his shoulder. He didn't bat the hand away as he ordinarily might have, but rather tentatively rested his own on Rosinante's wrist, using the grip to support himself as he struggled into a slow and uncomfortable sitting position. For a moment, the room seemed to spin with the motion, but this did not worry the little medic unduly. Hardly surprising after the shift from such a long and heavy slumber.

        Once the vertigo had passed and the boy found himself in an actual sitting position, he frowned, yellow eyes drifting to the palms he held out before him. It was still difficult to process it all, from what they'd been through to what Cora-san was saying to him now. He'd known he'd gotten rid of it all in theory - could vaguely remember, as the hours of operation began to return to him, thinking that he ought to have been excited - ought to have exclaimed the moment he'd deemed the surgery successful. Which he would have, had he not been too tired to register anything beyond the buzzing in his head or the buckling of his knees when they'd collapsed beneath him.

        But completing an operation, being distantly aware he'd done everything to the best of his abilities... That was one thing. Waking up and being reminded he'd gotten rid of it all -that he shouldn't be feeling its presence, because he had done it- was a different matter entirely. He'd known in theory that it might have worked. That if anything were going to cure the incurable white lead disease, it would be the pointed removal of said lead from its highest point of concentration. But that lead had been with him all his life, the early demise it promised a constant companion these past few years.

        Law may not feel its physical affects on his small body anymore, but he was just as bewildered trying to sort through the torrent of emotion it left in its wake. Cora-san was right: he had done it. These hands stretched out in front of him now, aided by the fruit the ex-executive had risked his life to secure, had done the unthinkable - he'd successfully completed the operation! 

        Hands began to shake as the weight of this began to sink in - a slow, tentative excitement taking root somewhere deep inside him. It was relief, not lead, he felt creeping through his bloodstream now, surging through his veins and filling every empty space the disease and its despair had left in its wake. Cora-san was right. He'd been right about everything.

        Somewhere in the back of his mind, he played through the last six months in Rosinante's company - how loudly he'd protested, how often he'd kicked and flailed and left the man to drag him against his hard-headed determination... How angry he'd been at the one person in the world who still had it in them to care about him. Tears welled in the boy's eyes as he glanced between his hands and his savior, the last words shattering whatever wall had held the torrent of emotion back. Whether they were tears of guilt or exhaustion, relief or repentance, Law himself couldn't say. He couldn't seem to speak at all, now - merely to register that last statement over and over, looping themselves in his mind.

        'I knew I made the right choice.'

        Everything he'd done - how much they'd been through, how awful he'd been on his worst days, and here Cora-san had stood by his decision until the very end. 

        No. There was one thing the man was wrong about. Law had done nothing but give Rosinante grief these past few months. He may have combined what medical knowledge he had with the fruit he'd procured for him, but how could he not? He owed him that much for the trouble he'd put him through. Law may have performed the operation, but he knew very well who'd done the saving here. And though his throat clenched with tears, leaving him speechless and with a body trembling from the building sob he kept at bay, Law's gratitude made itself apparent elsewhere - namely in two tiny arms that flung themselves around the man's broad shoulders. The gesture could not have taken anyone more by surprise than Law himself: by the time he'd realized what he was doing, the sob had already escaped him. Muffled by the tattered fabric of Corazon's shirt, the cry started low, building as thirty-six hours - six months - three years... all the good and bad of his entire life came spilling out in the tears that drenched the man's shoulders. Wails that wracked his tiny frame, and spoke more of all of it - remorse, gratitude, regret, relief, exhaustion, and joy than he'd ever be able to put into words if Law tried.

"Would you like to sit down and hold Cora-chan?"

　　　❝  absolutely! just, uh... gimme a second. ❞

　for all of rosinante's quirks, injury-based or not, that contributed to his clumsiness ー feet he had to consciously fight against to keep toes from pointing inwards, tremors & numbness in his arms & hands from nerve damage, and an ankle either stiff or weak depending on what the universe thought was funniest ー somehow, rosinante never dropped law a single time during their nearly seven month trek together all those years ago. somehow.

he remembered that vividly, how awed he was. there were ample instances of tripping within moments of putting law down, or kneeling to let law slide off his back, but never while he was carrying him. he didn't know why; a god, or good karma, magic, or his brain going into overdrive when it recognized he was holding something fragile ( sure wish his brain would have done that before he shattered a whole wine bottle while trying to pour his brother a glass years ago ー he never heard the end of it! ), but he was grateful.

rosinante wasn't going to rely on whatever that was to save him this time, though. no reason to push his luck, especially if the cost was a potentially hurt child and two angry parents. the ex-spy had just spent thirteen years looking for law ー he didn't want to spend another thirteen waiting for him to speak to him again!

he slid off the couch, taking the throw pillows & his coat with him. he fidgeted & fussed until they were arranged like a nest around himself. softness on all sides. peremiter secure.

　❝  sorry, just... some insurance. ❞ for him or for the parents? both, probably.

　　　　'silly me thinking it wouldn't have taken so long.'

　rosinante nodded, knowingly ー tiredly. he knew the feeling intimately, having experienced it in different stages of his life. hell, he was still experiencing it now: starting out a journey determined & optimistic, assured that you would find what you were looking for in no time at all ー only for the days to drag on, the weeks, the years... it sucked. whatever this girl was looking for, he empathized.

　❝ no trouble at all, ❞ he shut down the thought immediately, a tidge of desperation in his tone, not wanting his new company to leave so soon. ❝ i have a lot of bedrooms ー but it's just me & plenty of empty space right now. payment isn't necessary. depending on how long you'd wanna stay, you could help with chores, but... i wouldn't make that a requirement. i'd rather just help those who need it. ❞

rosinante once again nodded at her request for a transponder snail, turning heel towards his home with the intention of leading her inside. though, as karma for the folly of overestimating himself, (and perhaps his excitement), worsened by the simple fact that he couldn't see where he was placing his feet ー the man tripped. the logs he had dropped, rife with jagged bark & splinters, served as a painful landing bed, and he pushed off them with a groan.

　❝ right. so, ❞ his recovery was clunky, but he pushed on without so much as acknowledging what had happened. ❝ sure thing. my snail's in the kitchen. ❞

this was the first house on her path, pudding knowing far too well that if it took so long to find it then the next might be even farther. she doesn't want to give up on her search so easily, but there's no denying that every attempt she's making so far seems to lead to nothing but disappointment - how long can she follow this pattern? perhaps the rumors are true and the entire tribe is dead, which would then put her in a whole differend situation, but at least pudding would have some peace of mind.

"i don't want to impose..." she begins to say, and putting it in the mostle simple way, life made her wary. the man himself doesn't seem dangerous, but then again she knows better than to judge a book by its cover - especially these days. "and i don't have any money." a lie actually, for a few in between jobs have granted the necessary to keep going for at least this month. "i wouldn't know how to pay you back for letting me stay." the uncertainty in her tone is not an act for once, doubts that her safety might not be granted always looming at the back of her mind.

"it is getting dark though," a pause and pudding hesitates for a moment once again. "do you happen to have a den den mushi? i would like to let my sister know that i'm alright," and since pudding has taken on the habit of keeping in touch every night so that nobody would worry, a missed call would totally seem strange. "but i left mine on the ship - silly me thinking it wouldn't have taken so long."

　❝ it was a group effort, law. you might not see it that way, but i just gave you the tools ー it was up to you to make something out them and, god, you did. i'm real proud of you. ❞

rosinante hung an arm loosely around law's shoulders, giving one an affectionate squeeze and ever-so-slightly nudging the doctor closer to him. he was trying to be mindful of law's caginess towards physical affection, something he remembered fondly, in a strange way.

he decided to compromise with a lazy, half-hug, but wasn't above being more obnoxious if law decided to squirm. after thirteen years, one hug without a groan, or grumble, or embarrassed protest didn't seem out of the question after what the two had gone through.

　when law directed a question at time, rosinante felt his mind stall, punctuated with a long pause. ❝ i... don't know, ❞ came the reply, equal parts earnest an confused. ❝ i spent the last thirteen years trying to track you down, but now that that's over with... now that dressrosa is safe, and doffy is locked away, i don't really know what to do with myself. ❞ not as a nearly forty year old man, anyway. even all these years later, the dreams of grand adventures he would have with law once they reunited never fully left his mind, but he had to be realistic with himself about how much their situations had changed. it wasn't just him & law he had to worry about now.

　❝ when i was still in my twenties, i kept thinking, when i found you, we'd travel together like i promised, but i don't know. maybe i'm a little too old for that now. ❞ well, it was more that he didn't want to assert himself into law's crew, nor take him away when he clearly had dreams of his own he was working towards. to do that went against the autonomy & freedom he nearly died for him to have.

Brow rises with a look of displeasure in such a nickname for him. " I didn't want to take down Doflamingo for the sake of the people at Dressrosa, you know. " His reasons were entirely selfish, a silent promise of revenge for such a HEARTLESS act of violence against brothers. While Rocinante had shown him nothing but kindness in the days they travelled along, hoping for a single doctor to extend their hand && work to discover a cure, his heart soon coated in a darkness that festered the longer he lived, knowing of Doflamingo's actions.

Now following his heart, beating strongly to his own, steady rhythm, he is somewhat comforted by the fate of the elder of the Donquixote brothers after what happened. Even if it took more than his own careful planning. He came so close… he should have been stronger. A weight finally peeled off of weary shoulders.

Dull, golden hues flicker away from Rocinante, staring at the ground before them. Nothing in particular… simply a way to avoid reading too closely to the other's expressions. " I should be the one thanking you. For giving me that second chance at life." When no one else would. Sparing him from not only his omnicidal, self-sacrificial path, but also the life following after Doflamingo's criminal syndicate. "... Now that it's done, all I get to do now is sail wherever I want to. Maybe become the next pirate king. ... What about you ? "

　❝ we weren't around the... nicest folks at the time. i'm sure he's told you all about that, though. ❞ hell, never mind law telling her, he was certain nami got firsthand experience just how unpleasant his older brother's crew was through helping out law in dressrosa. rosinante recalled them being insufferable to deal with while still undercover over a decade ago, he couldn't imagine what they were like nowadays.

　❝ it would have been too suspicious of me to take the kids and run, so i had to get... creative. and, by 'creative', i mean 'treat the kids who showed up there like shit until they run away crying'. ❞

rosinante leaned back and gave her the air to speak & gather her thoughts, eyes receptive to the changes in her face. as much as he wanted to think their circumstances were the same, that was too simple.

the fact of the matter is that he was here, and bell-mere wasn't. law had the opportunity to heal ー to get closure ー directly from him, but nami didn't. there was only so much he could say, and only so much her guilt would allow her to believe. at least for right now, until they could form a bond in their own way.

for now, he'd settle for a bit of levity.

　❝ eh, well... depends. i doubt you were worse than law, unless you're the type of kid to try and stab your mom? ❞

"Why would it be for his own good? You're so ... nice."

He was so sweet, so kind, and she'd only known Rosinante for a short while. It was easy to see his good qualities, and while she had her issues with the institutions of marines, there were decent ones. Her mother was one of them; it was one of the main reasons she would always feel some sort of kinship with marines of the female variety. She wanted to believe there were some who were doing their work for the right reasons; her mother had been one that did. There had to be others that cared about people, the ones they swore to protect. Although it appeared to be easier said than done, to show such compassion.

"I gave her hell," Nami admitted, resting her chin in her palm, continuing to stir her tea. It was an easy way to pull herself away, to lure herself into somewhat of a trance. "I was spoiled. Selfish. You say she didn't regret it, but I dunno." She smiled, albeit weakly, because it was really all she could do. She still felt so much guilt. Guilt for surviving. Guilt for leaving. Guilt for living.

It was amazing that she had opened up so much, in such a short amount of time. She didn't always talk about her past --- she had others who would listen, but there were very few who might relate. How odd it was, that she'd found someone, in him. How much they had in common in their chosen dynamics --- maybe it meant something.

"I bet Law didn't cause you trouble, like I did for her."

    ❝ patients are a lot easier to talk to when they're asleep. ❞ the gremlin is definitely glaring up at Cora with those menacing amber eyes that always seem to be shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. ( little Law )

　❝ well, sometimes patients wake up when they hear noise, ❞ rosinante replied, tone neither annoyed nor mocking, but instead like he was playing along.

well, he primarily woke up because the pain medication he was given was starting to wane, but it wasn't a lie. for the last few nights, he was deliberate in not using his devil fruit powers; not only was his stamina running on fumes he couldn't afford to waste if he wanted to recover enough for them to finally get off minion within the week ー law said he would need at least two weeks, but rosinante was sure he could convince him if he kept being on his best behavior ー but it was too risky not to be in total awareness of his surroundings.

rosinante was heavily injured, and law ー having to split what little energy he had between caring for himself and caring for the older man ー wasn't better off. they were vulnerable, and the sounds around them were really the only indicators the pair had to potential dangers. he may not be able to defend law in his state, but they could still make a break for it.

that pain in rosinante's ribs alone was enough to knock the smile off his face, but the marine was doing his damnest to not let that show.

　❝ i didn't hear what you said, though. honest! at least i don't think so. i can never tell what words i dreamed up versus what someone actually said to me while i'm half-conscious. ❞

[ ATTENTION ]: sender, having just noticed something strange or remarkable, calls for the receiver to get their attention. (this one. said quietly, but with a frown as he holds up a newspaper to indicate a headline he's just picked up on.)

　rosinante didn't immediately hear law calling his name, back turned with several paces of distance between them. the sound of rushing water didn't help either.

the pair had camped next to a stream last night and he was taking full advantage of that, still half-dressed and scrubbing his upper body with a washcloth. 'freshening up' via a sponge bath with icy river water would never be the ideal when soap, hot water heaters & plumbing existed ー but when options were limited, it was important to get creative. besides,

he was fine with this; there was an odd nostalgia about having no other option but to bathe in the river. after a moment, law approached his shoulder, newspaper in hand, pestering him again to look. when rosinante did, their frowns matched. he clicked his tongue.

　❝ ...all right, so... we can just go ahead and check that hospital off the list, then, ❞ he muttered, sheepishly.

whoops. word clearly traveled much faster on this island than the older man thought; news of the pair's 'reign of terror' ー well, let's be honest, it was rosinante raining terror on people ー at the hospital they had visited the previous morning was already on the front pages. and if the news coo had been able to pick out law amongst the trees and successfully deliver the paper, there was little chance that the town they were heading towards (the last on rosinante's list for this island) would already be expecting them. a big safety risk. best to skip the town altogether and get an early start on the next one.

　❝ but, uh... look on the bright side ー we're lucky the news coo saw you and dropped that for us. so, we're prepared! imagine if we didn't know and walked into a trap, right? could have been a tough situation to get out of. ❞

they had enough food to last them another week or two, right? he'd have to check.