Inside, the crew was scattered. Brook was humming an old tune near the fridge, skull turned toward the window as if he could feel the sun on his bones. Chopper was reading a medical journal at the table, hooves propped on the edge of a plate of half-eaten crackers. Jinbe sat cross-legged near the pantry, sipping tea from a massive ceramic cup. Nami had her log pose laid out, noting something in a small ledger.

Luffy was, for once, not trying to steal food. He was sprawled across two chairs, cap pulled over his eyes, arms dangling.

And Sanji stood at the stove. One hand held a ladle. The other was flipping a smoking pan with practiced, musical rhythm.

Usopp was leaning against the counter beside him, peeling an orange with his fingernails. He wasn't really paying attention to it. He was watching Sanji.