(Untitled)

[skull_joke]

Characters: Sanji and Brook
Time: Before and during the blackout, while Franky and Usopp are busy getting run over repeatedly by fairies.
Location: Blackstone hotel.
Content: Fussing, freakouts, and possible f-bombs.
Format: Prose
Warnings: Sanji swears a lot and Brook is...Brook. A lot.

Comments

[love_hurricane]

"Nnh?"

The cook grouchily rolled over, opening his eye blearily to observe the skeleton entering the room carrying some ridiculous collection of... somethings, what had he gone out for again? Oh who cared, probably something thoughtfully meant but disastrously executed as usual. Attempting to push himself into a sitting position sent a rather uncomfortable sensation shooting around the lower section of his back, so he decided that pretending to be more conscious than he was whilst staying lying down would have to do for the time being.

"Oh. So you didn't get mauled within an inch of your life then? Why am I slightly disappointed." He pressed the side of his temple, trying to recall exactly why there was a risk of being horribly maimed if you went outside, and where the outside was and what it was the outside of and where the everything he was situated in was.

He decided to stop this as it was only making his head hurt, which it already did, so he didn't need to give it any assistance in the matter.

[skull_joke]

"Well of course I didn't, that's silly," he said, far too happily. "I already died!"

There were various rustly paper packaging noises as the foodstuffs made it into a more or less successful pile atop the ottoman in a corner; the tea he relocated to a safer spot in an unused space on the desk and made his way over to Sanji with-

"You've got coffee, if you still want it. And some dinner, too." Yes, he was hovering. He hovered. He was a hover-er. There was no escaping it really, short of throwing him out the nearest window and basking in the minutes it would take him to climb back inside and resume his hovering ways. That's what you get for still having blood and then losing it all over the place and making him worry, young man. That's. What. You. Get.

... :(

[love_hurricane]

"Ah. Of course." Really, by now he ought to have known better than to supply the dead man with more material.

Still, the combination of the scent of caffeine in the air and his system starting to pump the residual blood around his brain started to clear up the muggy confusion that he had woken up into. Chicago, that was it; he was in a hotel in Chicago, wherever Chicago was. Ignoring any complaints his body had about the idea, the cook sat up, ruffling the hair on the back of his head with a begrudging; "Mm, thanks." He needed to get some fuel into his system- even Sanji's remarkable stubbornness couldn't dissuade him from acknowledging this, as his nose finally kicked into gear, sniffing the air dubiously.

"... You did say coffee, didn't you? What kind is it?" It didn't smell like anything that he would personally call coffee.

[skull_joke]

The urge to hover was placated somewhat by this small success; though Brook himself was a confirmed tea addict for life and beyond, he was of the opinion that similar beverages occupied more or less the same ecological niche and were thus all equally good for you. Even cola, if you swung that way.

"It's a mocha, isn't it?" he said curiously. "If someone's botched the order I can go back."