In one hand, you held a small box of chocolates—your prize from a long afternoon of hunting through the dessert district. Your wallet was significantly lighter, but it was worth it.

The galley door was propped open, warm air carrying the mingled scents of herbs and seared meat. A rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk echoed from inside, punctuated by the occasional hum.

Sanji's back was to you, a cigarette tucked behind his ear as he worked at the counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.