The cruise terminal had been chaos—families crying, couples kissing, some guy in a Hawaiian shirt already three drinks deep at nine in the morning. But now, standing on the deck with their new husband, Y/N could almost pretend this would be the relaxing, romantic getaway every brochure had promised.

Almost.

Because Zoro was already looking at the ship map with the same intensity he usually reserved for booze.

Girl. It had been four minutes.