"Delete it."
"No."
Hawkeye's face darkened. He glared at the innocent little Transponder Snail lifted high in Dotor Ozz's hand.
"Ozz, you"
Mihawk sauntered closer as if nothing were amiss, then suddenly lunged to snatch it.
Naturally, he grabbed nothing but air.
The snail blinked and popped into Ozz's other hand a heartbeat before Mihawk's fingers closed.
"Oh? We're doing sneak attacks now?"
Failing at subtlety, the ever-composed swordsman went straight for a grab. It didn't matter. Against Ozz's Teleport-Teleport power, every attempt was a lesson in futility.
Only when Ozz promised he wouldn't let the photo circulate did Mihawk grudgingly fold his arms and stand down.
Across the room, a doll-pretty girl with ringlet bangs peeked out of Gecko Moria's arms, curious about the handsome youth with the black hair and greatsword who'd been holding her a moment ago.
Mihawk felt those eyes and promptly shut his own with a huff. Kids were not his arena.
…
Meanwhile, on the Sabaody Archipelago.
"Well then, Crocodile, now that we've returned you here, our task is done."
At the port, a Marine warship eased alongside the quay. Lines of Marines stood at attention as a figure in a long coat descended the gangplank.
It was Little Croc at last, released after a long semester at Impel Down.
"Been a while, this place."
Cold, damp cells, lousy food, worse sleep, not a single proper cigar. She'd clung to stubborn pride and refused to bend, only to learn Ozz and the others had flipped to the other side long ago, making all that suffering feel pointlessly self-inflicted.
Back now, she intended to wring the gloom out of her bones with some honest luxury.
She went straight for Sammi's office. Plenty of passersby recognized her, and no one dared block the way.
"Oh my, if it isn't Crocodile. When did you get back?"
Sammi was taking tea, delicately cupping a porcelain cup.
Big Mom had recently sent an invitation to one of her legendary tea parties. After consulting Ozz, Sammi had agreed to attend. Busy as she was running Ozz's operations, she barely ever had time to drink tea, let alone learn tea-party etiquette, so she was cramming.
Seeing Crocodile stroll in surprised her.
Little Croc flopped onto the sofa with a scowl, plucked a cigar from the table, and lit up.
"Haah."
She'd been starving for that.
"Looks like you were just released. Impel Down is a miserable place, isn't it?"
Sammi sipped and made small talk.
She shouldn't have. At the mention, Crocodile's face went black.
"Yeah. If I can help it, I am never going back to that damned hole."
Leg casually crossed, cigar between her fingers, she sank into the warm, plush room and soft cushions.
This was living.
"Right."
As if remembering something, Crocodile raised her chin toward Sammi's serene smile.
"Ozz and that Mihawk punk, have they been back since?"
The trio hadn't met since parting ways. Little Croc, uncharacteristically, asked after them.
"Ozz and Mr. Mihawk? They returned about two months ago, but left to sail again shortly after."
Ozz's whereabouts weren't secrets to Crocodile, so Sammi answered freely.
The reply made Crocodile freeze, a vein jumping on her forehead as her gaze sharpened dangerously.
"What? You mean they'd already buddied up and sailed off together?"
"Two months ago?"
Crack.
The cigar snapped and crumbled, sifting into sand that the breeze erased.
She'd thought those two were simply wandering, too busy to spring her. Turns out they knew, checked in with Sammi, and then swanned off arm in arm to sea.
Watching her expression curdle, Sammi dabbed at a sudden bead of sweat.
Had she said the wrong thing?
For days after, Little Croc's mood stayed sour.
Even at the casino, the proprietor tiptoed around her, planting shills to lose on purpose rather than risk one sandstorm wrecking the place.
It lasted until Ozz and Mihawk came home.
"Next stop, Fish-Man Island."
Ozz slipped away from a cluster of squealing fans, chatting with Mihawk as they went.
"Fish-Man Island?"
"Yeah. Scouting a future Warlord of the Sea candidate, and a little nostalgia trip."
For years he had shuttled between Paradise and the New World by leaping over the Red Line. He hadn't actually visited Fish-Man Island in ages. Lovely mermaids, pretty architecture, the charming sea kings, and a flotilla of swaggering fish-man punks. It was one of Ozz's favorite kinds of places.
"As you like."
Mihawk didn't care. The roster of potential Warlords he knew of didn't include any fish-men, but if Ozz had decided, that was enough.
They cut through the busy streets and into Sammi's office building.
"Finally back. That run was a long one."
At the door, two of Ozz's little attendants rushed him, hugging his waist before scampering off to arrange food and a massage.
Ozz ruffled their hair, then glanced deeper into the room.
His eyes met another pair.
A very stormy pair.
"Oh, look who it is. Little Croc. Long time no see."
Ozz grinned as if he hadn't noticed the thunderclouds gathering on her face.
Mihawk stayed to the side to watch. He might be implicated, but Little Croc's ire was clearly locked on Ozz.
"…"
She didn't buy the smile for a second. Long legs eating the distance, cigar clenched, she grabbed Ozz by the collar and snarled.
"The hell, you bastard."
"You go sailing off with Mihawk and just forget I exist?"
Ozz's expression shifted from puzzled to dawning comprehension.
"I figured you'd gotten out and gone to play."
"Hang on. Little Croc, did you keep stonewalling the Warlords and refuse to sign on, so while we were out having fun, you were still in jail?"
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