twenty-second breath ✧ voice/action

[musubi]

((ooc: backdated to morning))

[Someone is in your kitchen, Sanji.

That same someone is nursing a third cup of coffee and is far more jittery than normal after a certain event from the day before. And by jittery I mean his shaking hands come close to spilling the contents of his mug on more than one occasion.

His voice (still feminine since he's still stuck as a girl) isn't exactly steady, either.]

[filtered from Naoki and Richard]

Has it... e-ever really been this bad before? I-It's like they're hitting us with the whole year at once.

[The fact that he seems to have some abilities now doesn't even make him feel more secure. Maybe he can blame it on these female hormones later...]

Comments

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[Ah, he supposes he should've figured as much, and leans back with a sigh]

Usopp told me a little of what happened.

[That he was attacked, but that's about it]

Who was it?

[causeblocked.livejournal.com]

[He doesn't know?]

Richard and... N-Naoki.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[Oh, he suspected Naoki only. But Richard? No, that's not a name he expected to hear. He utters a soft grunt and closes his eye briefly]

Do you know the chances of them trying to find you? [It's a frank question at best, but in the case they might get visitors knocking... Naoki knows where the Straw Hats live, after all. As much as Sanji would like to think his friend-turned-evil would know better than to knock on the door of powerful pirates, he's not gonna assume either]

[causeblocked.livejournal.com]

[He shakes his head.] I don't. They didn't f-follow Usopp.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[Sanji wishes he could take comfort in that. But presently, he nods]

Alright... but stick around the house until this shitty experiment's over. [he stands up, only to walk to the stove]

You can stay in my room.

[causeblocked.livejournal.com]

[There are so many comments Isamu could have followed up that statement with, but as it is he just nods and takes another sip from the mug.

If he's with Sanji he might stand a chance.]

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[That Isamu doesn't follow up with anything, especially when Sanji knows how odd that last comment must seem... Naoki and Richard must've done a number on the guy.]

You hungry? [he needs to cook for the crew anyway, and isn't above making an extra plate]

[musubifemme.livejournal.com]

[Yes. Very.]

...N-no.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[... That didn't sound like a very convincing no.]

If you were hungry, what would you eat?

[musubifemme.livejournal.com]

I... I d-don't know.

[He feels a little childishly stubborn.]

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[So helpful, Isamu. But even now Sanji looks nothing above a vague type of irritated]

Bacon? Eggs? Rice? Miso soup? Pancakes? Omelet? [He is going to feed you, damn it. 8|]

[musubifemme.livejournal.com]

... [Dammit, Sanji. He looks visibly hungry now.]

...Any of that.

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[You'll thank him later]

Pancakes it is. [Chances are he'll be adding bacon and eggs and muffins and whatever else comes to mind - he's got the crew to feed, too - but at the very least, Isamu won't have to worry about filling his stomach]

I'm sure you can manage to stay up until then.

[musubifemme.livejournal.com]

[Isamu just nods, though he knows he won't be able to get to sleep any time soon anyway.]

[oda-hates-me.livejournal.com]

[Sanji's quiet as he cooks; there's too much on his mind now. If Isamu was attacked, that implies no one is safe from the demon pair until they come to their senses.

Should he put up a warning? Maybe... By the time he's done thoroughly wrestling the thought into the ground, Isamu's food is finished (http://blog.lib.umn.edu/admisfa/prospective/pancakes-757344.jpg), with a small side of eggs and hashbrowns. He places everything in front of him]

[musubifemme.livejournal.com]

[Isamu tries not to watch Sanji as he cooks, but he can't get himself to leave the room. By the time the chef is done, he's set his empty coffee cup down and is sitting at the table.

He stares at the plate when it's brought out, almost as if he's not sure what to do with it. He's soon raising a fork hesitantly, however, and is successfully distracted by the food soon after.]