Always, All Ways (fanfic50 - Prompt #7: Stained)
Title: Always, All Ways
Fandom: One Piece
Characters: Sanji
Prompt: Table #3, Prompt #7 (Stained) // July 12, 2009 (if i didn't know you, i'd rather not know)
Word Count: 211
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mentions of death, blood, and violence.
Summary: Sanji has come to realize that the customers who come to the Baratie are always, always the same.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.
Always, All Ways
Sanji has come to realize that the customers who come to the Baratie are always, always the same.
The women, they always, always flirt with any man in sight. They flirt with him, too, and they take advantage of his love-struck reactions in order to have their meal be for free. They always, always sit by and watch in horror if something goes wrong, never bothering to help or interfere in some way, as if they are useless and inferior.
The men, they always, always throw insults left and right. They insult him as a person, and that's fine, really--but when the topic is turned to his cooking, he becomes enraged and they always, always fight. It's always, always futile, and there's always, always blood stains and the scent of death everywhere when it's all over.
Sanji doesn't mind, of course. He's only here to repay the debt he had made so long ago, after all. Still, he can't help but think that it's impossible to tell the difference between the customers anymore. The faces and the voices and the names may be different, but inside, everything is similar.
"A customer is here! Who is it this time, Sanji?" someone always, always asks him.
And Sanji always, always says, "I don't know. Who is anyone?"
Fandom: One Piece
Characters: Sanji
Prompt: Table #3, Prompt #7 (Stained) // July 12, 2009 (if i didn't know you, i'd rather not know)
Word Count: 211
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mentions of death, blood, and violence.
Summary: Sanji has come to realize that the customers who come to the Baratie are always, always the same.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.
Always, All Ways
Sanji has come to realize that the customers who come to the Baratie are always, always the same.
The women, they always, always flirt with any man in sight. They flirt with him, too, and they take advantage of his love-struck reactions in order to have their meal be for free. They always, always sit by and watch in horror if something goes wrong, never bothering to help or interfere in some way, as if they are useless and inferior.
The men, they always, always throw insults left and right. They insult him as a person, and that's fine, really--but when the topic is turned to his cooking, he becomes enraged and they always, always fight. It's always, always futile, and there's always, always blood stains and the scent of death everywhere when it's all over.
Sanji doesn't mind, of course. He's only here to repay the debt he had made so long ago, after all. Still, he can't help but think that it's impossible to tell the difference between the customers anymore. The faces and the voices and the names may be different, but inside, everything is similar.
"A customer is here! Who is it this time, Sanji?" someone always, always asks him.
And Sanji always, always says, "I don't know. Who is anyone?"