[The Surgeon of Death reduced to treating paper cuts? Well, shit. Sanji is just going to snicker at that mental image the entire twenty minutes he has left to himself. That's like someone asking Sanji to microwave them chicken nuggets.
When Law arrives, Sanji kicks open the door with his toes, a steaming pot of creamy parmesan pasta in his hands. The smell of garlic is everywhere, and the table is set for two.]
[one of the most pleasant things to greet him at a door, really. Smells so good, how did he ever live on rice and fish for most of a year? Just don't remind him that pasta is a cousin of bread and he'll eat everything set before him]
Yeah. Infirmary's quiet.
[he settles himself down as usual, this is all routine by now.]
[He snorts wryly as he nudges the door shut, then sets the pot in the center of the table between them.]
Old habits die hard, and this is one habit I don't plan on quitting anytime soon. [A shrug, and he starts heaping Law's portion onto his plate.] Besides, I can hand out the leftovers.
[he gets started without any further fanfare, so as to keep himself a little busy doing what he actually came here to do before springing his other topic on Sanji. He's been warned, but Law's too awkward to just come out with it until he's gotten a few bites of dinner.]
Yeah... [idly moving pasta bits around on his plate like the poutiest poutface ever] We need to...talk. About our thing. I've never talked to anyone about things like that before.
So am I. [He returns quite level, without missing a beat. He is not even remotely afraid of Law, but murder glares don't nurture good appetites.] You just called what you two have a "thing." Like you don't even know what it is.
I don't. [shh eating for a second. he's not above talking with his mouth full, though.] At least, I don't know if she wants more than what I want out of it.
[Sanji points his fork at Law. Very aggressively.]
You already know how I would talk to a lady like Miss Caedra, and we both know you couldn't manage that level of adulation even if you wanted to! I'm trying to dumb this down for you here.
Have you even tried just asking her? Not as some shitty, all important, one-time talk. Just as a regular fucking thing.
She doesn't need adulation. [well, he's wrong there, but at least they've already sort of accepted that he's not going to fawn on her and she can live without it] You can keep the poetry, we already talk to each other like normal people.
[he's been under the weight of A Talk ever since she said they needed to have one, so he hasn't conceived of doing it any other way. Inflexibility is his trademark, after all.]
Okay, okay. I'll give you three easy steps that not even you can grump up.
[Sanji drops the attitude (and his fork) albeit reluctantly.]
First! You choose the right time. Don't pull that shit right before or after anything important. Don't hold her daily activities hostage either. Ask her when she's free, and wait your damn turn.
Second! You make her comfortable. Good food always works, but any creature comforts are important. You don't want her to feel trapped. She should want to keep talking to you because it's comfortable.
And finally! You ask her opinions. She obviously has a lot of them. If you don't listen to them, I'll roast your jewels like fucking chestnuts.
...choose a good time, don't make her uncomfortable, and. [like a lame, shameful dumbass] Listen. I got it.
[hilariously, these are all things that Law isn't used to doing. what does he care if he makes people uncomfortable or drags them aside during something important? He takes Sanji's advice like a strategy, a tactic to apply to get what he wants. What? It's not like she'll care if he's magnanimous and open.]
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