Note: There is one name I want you remember—FuxeFuxe, who drew some wonderful fanart for this story! She brought to life the magazine cover that Boa Hanock looks at in Chapter 3 with Luffy and Ace in Dolce and Gabbana! Much love! This is for you!

Chapter Four
The Mechanic Wears Caterpillar

Please, leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman
From that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed
I'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it
Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and
When you're in black slacks with accentuating, off-white, pinstripes
Whoa, everything goes according to plan
I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it
Because you say so under your breath
You're reading lips "When did he get all confident?"
Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?
Never looked better, and you can't stand it
Next is a trip to the, the ladies room in vain, and
I bet you just can't keep up with, keep up, with these fashionistas, and
Tonight, tonight you are, you are a whispering campaign
I bet to them your name is "Cheap", I bet to them you look like shh-
Talk to the mirror, oh, choke back tears
And keep telling yourself that "I'm a diva!"
Oh and the smokes in that cigarette box on the table
they just so happen to be laced with nitroglycerin
-"There's a Good Reason These Tables are Numbered Honey, you just haven't Thought of it Yet"
-Panic at the Disco

~0~

Again. Again the same, always the same. The same madness. The same fury, the same impotent rage. What had he ever done to be in such a traumatizing position? How bad had he been in his other lives? He must have been downright evil in his previous life.

"You're trembling."

The voice wafted on the air, goading.

His eyes narrowed in rage and then opened up again lest Usopp should shrill at him to look sexy. He didn't answer—to do so would have been tantamount to losing his temper. His hand was fisted fiercely; the secret crevices sweating with the tension, the muscles standing out in his forearms as his body refused to cooperate with him and ached to shake the man in front of him until the other's teeth clattered and shook.

He swallowed and struggled to keep that dark mystery that he was supposed to be permeating. Zoro's hand on top of his, he felt the beat of the other's heart. It was too fast, why was it so fast? Thankfully, Usopp had dictated that he was supposed to be looking at the wall behind Zoro while Zoro gazed at him so Sanji didn't have to put up with the weight of those green eyes.

The set—according to the photographer—was called, 'Brooding Stranger Tells Mysterious Man of his Love.' It could have been called 'Baboon's Anus meets Blond Beauty" for all he cared. The agony was the same.

Zoro squeezed the hand that was in both of his, clasped between his pectorals, "Ceja—you're trembling like a leaf."

"That," he managed finally, with difficulty, "is because I do not want to be here." It was the politest he could manage at the moment.

"Perfect Sanji, Zoro! Keep that!"

"That makes two of us then Ceja," Zoro whispered, his lips barely moving from what Sanji could see from the corner of his eye.

He didn't answer, his eyes long accustomed to the flashes and pops of the expensive cameras and light systems.

Zoro squeezed his hand softly.

"Stop," he snapped, trying his hardest not to move his lips too much. Would someone shoot this man?

Zoro ran the ball of his thumb over the side of his hand not facing the camera, his face unreadable. Caressed it.

"Stop—what the hell are you doing?" he snarled quietly. Usopp was not fooled and Sanji found himself reprimanded for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. His knuckles were white with repression.

Zoro squeezed his hand again, hard, and said silkily, "I'm pissing you off."

~0~

"You damn fools," Hancock hissed, "Not only did you beat the shit out of each other, you broke expensive photography equipment, you nearly suffocated the best photographer this company has when he tried to stop your rampages, you tore holes in the walls, you broke the doors down—what the hell do you two buffoons have to say for yourselves!"

"Ms. Hancock, please forgive me," he protested automatically, emotions conflicting. On one hand he felt utterly couth for being the cause of the wrinkle in Hancock's smooth, milky forehead. On the other hand he was smarting, wanting to throw Zoro under the wheels of the oncoming truck, "But this man was harassing me—"

"I don't care if he was sexually molesting you!" Hancock snarled, slamming her hand down on the desk, "I don't care if he was doing this or doing that, I do not care! I don 't care what you two have to do in order to get along, but the next time I hear that you're fighting in the photo shoot then I will have your asses out on the street so fast that your heads are going to be whirling! And don't think it'll stop there!"

The CEO glared at them ominously.

"I swear on my own name that if you screw this up for me, if you don't manage to catapult my company, my label, my name higher than any other company then I will ruin your whole damn lives if it's the last thing I do. Are we clear gentleman?"

Sanji nodded, and beside him he could see Zoro doing the same, sullenly.

Boor. Idiotic boor. Nasty, toilet-trained, disgusting, idiotic boor.

"Then get out my office and go back. I expect both of you to put in four more hours of work to make up for the damage you caused to my studios. Now—get lost."

He stood up, his chair scraping sadly against the carpet, and stalked out after bowing deeply to the beautiful executive. Zoro simply strolled out, head down and hands in Calvin Klein slacks. A deep midnight blue. This time the walk to Usopp's studio, which they had fairly destroyed as they had done their very best to rip each other's heads off and carry each other's skulls home to eat soup out of, was tense and silent. Sanji stayed behind the other man, too disgusted and weary to even begin another arms-race.

What he hated most, though, was the fact that things would have gone smooth—or at least not so drastically violent—if Zoro would have taken the idea into his head to behave himself. But no—the man was keen on annoying the very shit out of him. It was—

"Hey, Ceja."

He grunted, immediately on guard, eyes locked on the back of the green head.

"Maybe I shouldn't haven't played around with you—I'll try not to do it again," Zoro stopped and turned his head halfway back, smiling, hands in the back pockets.

"Try? You better damn well not do it again," he said, pissed, "Look, I don't see what your problem is. I'm trying to get things done, but you—"

"I am an uneducated, uncultured, boring, Neolithic armpit," Zoro continued smoothly, starting to walk again.

"Yes, I'm glad we agree. But that doesn't change the fact that we are working together. It's obvious we can't get along—so why don't we just get it over with?"

"There's a problem with that Ceja," Zoro said, not turning around, "The problem is that I can't get over it if every time I'm around you, you make it very fucking clear that you'd rather be humping a dead cow or eating fresh bird shit. It sort of pisses me off, you know?"

He breathed hard, stifling the harsh words which wanted to crawl themselves up from his larynx and hurl themselves viciously at the green haired model, "Well, I, Roronoa, can't change the way we conflict, because that's a question of our very natures—"

"Really…? I always thought that opposites attract."

"This is precisely why I can't put up with you!" he snapped, "I try to be serious—you fuck things up! How the hell are we going to work for the next eight-ten months without fighting every single damn day!" He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, wanting nothing more than to plunge a black loafer through that broad back in front of him.

Zoro turned around abruptly and glared at him, "Well, it's the exact same reason why you piss me off! You want us to work together, I say 'ok', you say 'cooperate' and I say, 'ok', but you act like your shit doesn't stick and smells like Chanel No.5, hypocrite! Don't get yourself mixed up—it's the other way around—I'm putting up with you, and let me tell you—it's getting harder and harder every time you open your trap."

Calm down Sanji, calm down. You don't want to spoil the gorgeous Ms. Hancock's day again do you?

But I want to kick this guy's face in!

No, you don't! Think of Hancock!

He brushed past Zoro, "I just want this shit to be over with. I don't care how we do it."

~0~

Hand on his hip, hair clinging to his eyes, open suit and dress shirt, yeah baby. This was what he had been used to. His other hand played with a thick, fancy cigar. He had been used to this, the camera's dark eye upon him, the audience smiling and approving.

What he was not used to was the arms crossed below the neck, the chin reclining on his shoulder, causing a point of numbness, the lean, muscular body behind him, the steady breathing in his ear which agonizingly reminded him of Paulie breathing in his ear as the blond mechanic thrust how it was best and stroked in ways which melted his lower belly.

"Beautiful, just beautiful!" Usopp crowed happily, "I bet this ad really brings out the urge in people to buy Amazon Lily brand! I mean, the mystery—the restrained sexuality—the need emanating from both of your bodies—"

Need to kill.

"Can you feel my need Sanji?" Zoro murmured, beside him, his voice tampered with satirical glee.

"Shut it!" he whispered fiercely, "I don't want to redo this. We've been standing here for ten-fifteen minutes! This is almost done—"

"Zoro! Put your hand on Sanji's crotch!" Usopp tapped something on his clipboard and nodded solemnly.

"What! I'm going to shove your nose so far up your ass Usopp, you're going to be able to smell your own shit—what do you think you're doing!"

"I'm following orders," Zoro said, voice bland and mild, "I'm a humble employee."

"Sanji! I'm not actually going to put that on a magazine!" Usopp attempted an authoritarian tone, but was in actuality, trembling a little bit, "I'm going to cut it off at the wrist—it's supposed to be suggestive—women love that kind of advertising! Trust me! Fangirls these days—"

"Hey, hey, what's this?" Zoro said, smirking, "I thought it was me who got in the way of things, eh—Sanji Ceja? Feeling a little uncomfortable? What's the matter? I'm sure you've felt a man's hand here before." Squeeze.

"Don't—Don't put so much pressure!" He was nearly purple with suppressed rage.

Usopp gave them a thumbs up, "Perfect Zoro! I can see your muscles—nice! You've got a good feel for this!"

"I have a good feel right now all right," Zoro murmured, and then before Sanji could choke out something acidic, "Wait, Usopp—I'm going to curl my hand to add to the suggestion, wait up—"

And that is how Sanji found himself, smoking a cigar, one eye closed, the other measuring the camera, and Zoro's hand curved tightly around the lax column underneath his slacks. His head was tilted to one side and Zoro's warm lips were hovering over the junction of shoulder and neck.

And that's exactly when Paulie walked in, dragging a black bandana across his sweaty forehead, his blue jacket swung over one broad shoulder. Holding a soft drink in one hand, goggles pulling his blond hair back.

Sanji felt something like an electric shock cascade through his body and he flushed, and turned white almost immediately. He saw Paulie's eyes widen and his jaw drop open slightly and something nasty squirmed inside. He felt like a cheating, adulterous bastard at that moment and nothing, not even the truth, could rip that feeling away from his heart. He wanted to leap off the stage and run to his man but he knew just how much it would cost Usopp to readjust the cameras all over again. Plus, he didn't think he could move at the moment. His muscles had frozen.

Thankfully Nami made a beeline for Paulie, and Sanji saw her mouth moving sixty miles an hour, and Paulie nodded jerkily, relaxing minutely.

Oh please, don't be angry—don't be hurt. Paulie—

"The boyfriend?" Zoro murmured in his ear, leaning his mouth over so that the lips tickled the shell of his ears and he could hear every shade of timbre of the other's baritone. But for once, Sanji didn't recoil-didn't even register him. Zoro could have been on the dark side of the moon for all he cared.

"He's going to kill me," Sanji muttered back, "I told him about this but he won't understand. He doesn't get this model shit. I don't blame him—damn—" The flash of the cameras broke his sentence in half.

"All right guys! We're good!" Usopp gave them the go-ahead signal, "Take a breather!"

Zoro's hands dropped away from him and Sanji didn't feel them go, he was already leaping off the platform, heading for Nami and Paulie. Snatching off the suit jacket and tossing it to one of the many aides as he ran.

The greenhaired model rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "What's so great about that guy? He's not so hot."

~0~

"Paulie—"

The blond held up a hand, and attempted a smile, "Don't explain. You're a model—I get it. You have to do this stuff. I get it."

Sanji felt the rush of relief but gabbled on, seizing Paulie's hands, "Baby—I would never cheat on you. Usopp—he has these ideas—"

"Sanji—I know. Don't worry about it. Nami explained it all." Paulie glanced away.

Nami nodded in agreement. "He understands, it's your work, baby."

He flushed again, still feeling embarrassed to be seen in the situation that Paulie had caught him in. And even though Paulie said it was all okay, he could see the hurt in the engineer's blue eyes, the slight pain. The shame.

One glance at the clock told him he had time and with a look to Nami-who understood immediately and nodded—he grabbed Paulie's hand and tugged him out of the studio.

"Sanji—where are you taking me—" Paulie said, surprised, but allowing himself to be led.

"Shut up."

He rushed down the corridor and took a right and then another left—searching. Then—there! He seized the doorknob of one of the many doors in the building and pulled it open, slamming it behind them. And plunged on through the room—which was a sort of storage closet for cleaning supplies—until he reached another door.

Paulie stopped, "Are we going to the basement?"

Sanji ignored him and pulled him down the stairs, pausing only to flick on the lights. It was a clean, albeit cluttered room, which housed even more cleaning supplies.

"Why are we here—"

Sanji turned around and swallowed the words—kissed Paulie hard. The kiss was deep and good; the kind only people deeply in love or prostitutes can give. The kind of kiss which lasted in the mind. The kind of kiss which tears the heart from the chest and makes it explode in happiness even as you know that it won't last.

Paulie's tongue caressed his own, then abused it. The engineer pushed him back until his back hit the wall and Sanji broke the kiss.

Paulie spoke first, voice rough. Almost embarrassed, "You didn't have to bring me down here to do that."

"Oh, I'm planning to do a lot more," he answered, his hands ran down the toned body, "but first—you know I want nothing to do with Zoro. You know that I wouldn't leave you or cheat on you for the world. You know."

The engineer winced, "I know."

"Then why did you look so fucking hurt?"

"Because—Because—" Paulie looked away, "Sanji—you're not my level. You're above me and you know it."

"Shit," he breathed and jerked the blond's head back.

Paulie plowed on, "You're this amazing, handsome, rich, sophisticated fashion model and I'm this guy who works on the machines in the back. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to have feelings for you."

"Cut the crap," he hissed, "Just cut it. You know I'm in love with you and you know I don't give a shit about that—I used to be a fucking janitor when I worked at the Baratie!"

"Yeah, but you were the sous-chef too. Hey—"

Sanji slid the jacket off of him and tugged the shirt up over his head. Paulie let the yellow shirt be peeled over his head and dropped to the floor. And Sanji sunk down after it, pausing only to kiss the hard muscles, draw a sticky line of sweet across the naval and nibble on the material of the jeans.

"Unzip," he whispered

"Sanji—here?" Paulie's face darkened to scarlet and his hands trembled at the zipper of his jeans. He was shy by nature, and even though they had been screwing each other for the last months, and would be screwing each other for the next God-knew-how-many years, the mechanic would always be that prim, bashful man who blushed and groaned like a fresh, dewy virgin.

"I'm not above you retard—and I'll suck your dick on my knees in some basement to prove it. Unzip."

Paulie did and when Sanji made no move, flushed again, and guided the increasing erection into the open mouth. The only thing Sanji did was to pull the jeans down a little more and then after that was done—suck. Paulie's cock was a rather thick piece—though he could still take it in deep and suckle it without gagging. It was a working man's cock. Thick and heated, bluntly shaped. Large and proud in its arousal.

Sanji let the erection fill his mouth, let himself run his tongue enthusiastically over the hot skin. He felt the pulsating heat in his mouth and couldn't quite understand how hot it was making him—to be so utterly degraded. Why does the inner libido love, just love, to be humiliated? Just the act of sinking to his knees curled a hot serpent in his lower body and made his penis push against the tight satin of his Dolce & Gabbana slacks.

Why did he burn inside when he felt the mechanic's little grunts and tasted the sweet-sour taste of private skin tinged with salty droplets? Why did the blush of arousal permeating his body gorge on the sounds and scents and sights of cock being sucked so thoroughly?

Paulie was trying to bump his hips without appearing to be trying to thrust more of that erection inside his mouth. It was absurdly charming. Even with his dripping erection in his mouth, the mechanic would act shy, would act like he wasn't one turned on motherfucker. Paulie's shallow breathing was beautiful in his ears.

He pulled off after he felt, rather than heard the rhythmatic pumping of the dirty blonds' blood. He was steadying out so that he could release. Sanji stood up and rapidly unzipped his satiny slacks, peeling them off his taut thighs which were quivering with the tension. "Got something?"

The blond in front of him bent slightly and picked up his jacket and dreamily pulled out a small tube of engine oil out of the jacket's pocket.

Sanji winced, "No dude." His eyes were already glancing along the shelves and he spotted what he needed almost immediately. A big jar of some cheap, creamish color lotion had been left on one of the shelves. Maybe there were more couples in Amazon Lily who needed a quick release every now and then. He grinned and motioned for Paulie to go get it. Pulling off the rest of his designer slacks, he set quickly to clean off a portion of one of the long, cluttered work tables. Not too comfortable and not too pretty; but it would do, it would do.

~0~

When the dirty blond mechanic laid the lithe blond on the table, back-side up, Zoro winces, felt something flare in his groin and glanced self-consciously behind him, eyes wide. He hadn't meant to watch the idiot blond get on his knees and swallow his partner's dick, had he known that the two were going to get down and do the dirty, he would never have followed them.

As it was he had believed that the two were at the point of coming to blows when they left. He had just seen Sanji drag the other blond out with no explanation and next thing Zoro knew they were in the basement, swapping spit and semen. He had honestly followed in order to throw in a good word for his co-worker. He liked fucking with the easy-to-fuck-with blond who exasperated him to no end; but in no ways did he want to actually destroy a relationship. That was just pure malevolence.

He should have left the moment Sanji slid his hands underneath the mechanic's blue workingman's jacket and threw it on the floor. Then he should have left the moment that Sanji dropped to his knees and all Zoro saw was the bare broad back of the dirty blond and could see the white hand gripping the man's brown side. And then he should have left when the two men began to grind against each other and somehow Sanji managed to flip himself around on the white table—and

Zoro hadn't seen the blond give the blowjob but he got a full panoramic view on him being fucked.

Their breathing was loud. Zoro could hear it from where he crouched behind the door. It was a good thing the door had a little platform just outside it with railings before it petered out into the staircase so that the door was not so exposed. But Zoro had an idea that the two men were too currently occupied to pay much attention to a peeping tom.

And a peeping tom he certainly was. He really had no plans to leave anytime soon. One hand went to the top button on his shirt and undid it. The room had suddenly gotten very hot.

Zoro raised an eyebrow as he heard Sanji start panting out Paulie's name. The blond on the table arched his back violently, his ass raising up from the table and Paulie placed a restrictive hand on it and jerked his hips forward. They both were giving small grunts of exertion and then there would be the occasional slam as Sanji pounded on the table or their motions caused something to fall off on the other end.

Strange. He had expected it to be the rough mechanic on that table. It would have been the holier-than-thou blond who called the shots and refused to give up his masculinity. In fact, the whole conversation the two had been having had been strange. He would never have suspected that his blond co-worker had it in him to be so kind—so honest and blunt.

I'm not above you.

He had only caught the tail end of it, but the emotions had been sincere.

The blond on the table began to writhe under the pressure of what the mechanic was putting in his body and Zoro felt his mind go blank at the sight of that handsome body which he had been in such close proximity to these last few days. The sight was achingly pornographic. The muscles in the white back, the curves of the magnificent body which strained and relaxed, strained and relaxed, the way his ass moved in such ways so that it was blatantly obvious that the man was begging for insertion. Begging for abuse.

He could tell that a turgid erection was straining against his slacks without even looking. All he wanted to do was watch the man on the table—he didn't even spare the dirty blond mechanic a second glance—and try to imagine what it looked and felt like to be the man who was so mercilessly fucking that gorgeous motherfucker on the table.

Zoro could feel the lush heat around his length, could see the white curves of the man buttocks spread wide and the red-black puckered mouth of his being. It was his own hardened cock which was making the man squirm and prostate himself on the dirty surface of that table. It was his hand which grasped the man's hard thigh, his hand which coaxed the hidden cock to spit its semen out.

They finished, there on that table. He could almost pinpoint the exact moment when Sanji's climax overwhelmed him. His long body hitched once, almost in protest, and his shoulders tensed and then relaxed and he was turning his head—

Zoro swallowed thickly before backing away as quietly as he could, and confused and pissed that he had even stayed to watch, fled the scene of the crime.

~0~

They were only a few minutes into the next shoot when Sanji realized that something was different. He had wandered out, after a few quick kisses, a few minutes before the mechanic so as to not curtail suspicion and had found that Usopp had taken his lunch break and wouldn't be back for half an hour. It had been enough time to reassert himself and collect his scattered bearings.

They were standing side-by-side next to each other; they had one of their hands tucked into each other's belt, with their chins lifted slightly and identical cigarette's tucked into opposite corners of their mouths. The belts were Givenchy; the cigarette's were Camels.

The difference was that Zoro's hand was calm, almost straining against his belt as if he didn't want any part of him to come in contact with Sanji's body. His eyes jumped away when they met and his mood was subdued, almost lost in thought. There were no attempts to annoy him, only a silent submission that had Sanji wary beyond belief.

And the attitude did not change throughout the rest of the shoot. If anything, it increased. The green-haired man would nod silently to Usopp's orders—even to the more raunchy ones—and even to Sanji's own. And the way he now was handling their intimacy—he handled Sanji's body as if were made of glass. Fragile and precious.

Confused, but not unhappy at the sudden change, Sanji followed along with the shoot, not bothering to question the other man. They were almost done when the answer hit him and he stiffened momentarily in Zoro's arms (They were hugging each other with Versace sunglasses on).

Zoro thinks that Paulie either broke up with me or ranked me to the dogs and back for that scene back there. He's feeling guilty and doesn't know how to apologize even though it's not his fault.

The disquiet he had been feeling ever since they had resumed the shoot and Zoro had been acting so strangely dissipated immediately and tired amusement flooded in. He relaxed again and before he could stop it—chuckled quietly (It was Zoro's face which was facing the camera, so he was free to do so). The slight movement made Zoro start and shift uneasily before Usopp yelled at him to stop.

"Something funny?" Zoro whispered.

"No—nevermind," and but something like confusion fell over his soul as his hand gave Zoro's back a pat before he stopped himself, shocked. He despised this man! Why had they suddenly molded into each other so faultlessly? He didn't know—but he didn't like it.

~0~

Paulie chuckled when Sanji told him, "Well—at least it seems he's a decent guy." He was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, a fat cigar in his mouth. Waiting for dinner. Sanji didn't disappoint him and handed him a plate of steaming barbeque ribs a few seconds later, placing his plate opposite. Before he sat down he hunkered and grabbed Paulie's foot.

"What are you doing?"

Sanji grunted, "Taking off your boots. These things are huge clodhoppers, the steel toes makes 'em weigh a lot. Here. " He unlaced the boots and pulled them off the mechanic's feet, "What are these? Caterpillar?"

"Yeah."

He washed his hands, sat down to eat, and returned to Paulie's comment, "I thought he was up to something; I even thought that he might have—I don't know—found out."

Paulie looked up sharply, "You sure—"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," he said, shaking away the suspicions with a wave of his hand, "No one said anything or even suspected where we met. Except Nami of course—and she doesn't know how far we went."

The mechanic relaxed, "That girl needs to wear some long pants."

"Shut up Paulie."

~0~

"So…that guy…Sanji—he been going out with that guy for a while?"

Nami looked up from where she was busy going over the day's records and other paperwork, surprised. The greenhaired model must not have gone home yet, he was leaning against the doorjamb of her small office, looking at a poster she had hung up a long time ago—it showed a grove of tangerine trees.

She was immediately on guard but was smart enough not to show it. She didn't particularly care for Zoro Roronoa—she had been one of Sanji's aides for a little less than a year now and didn't like the fact that another model challenged her model. She glanced down at her papers and affected a busy, disinterested voice, "Hmm? Oh, of course. First time's he lasted so long with one person, you know. Surprising…" She trailed off and punched some numbers into the calculator on her desk.

"How long they been going out—long?" Zoro edged into her office and continued to glance around the walls, "I'm just asking since it's unusual for a model to be…you know—"

"Dating a set mechanic?" She continued, ruffling some papers and writing down some figures down, still keeping the casual tone, "Funny, huh? I think they're seven months is next Friday, but don't quote me. And they're so adorable together—Sanji had a lot of problems before Paulie came. I'm happy for them."

She almost snickered at that. Sanji had not had problems, unless you counted not being able to settle down with one person, but Zoro didn't need to know that. Zoro needed to know that the man that was obviously more handsome and more successful than him already had a wonderful, handsome man in his life and that they were deeply in love and there was no room in his life for an interloper. It was obvious that Zoro Roronoa had set himself to add Sanji's feather to his cap to augment his long lists of conquests. Well, he wouldn't achieve it, not if she could help it. Sanji deserved to be in love for once.

"Problems?" Zoro asked, and settled himself into the chair in front of her desk, playing with the little plush tangerine on her desk, "What do you mean?"

Nami put her glasses down and tried on a loves-to-gossip face, "Oh, the usual. Powdered snow." She cast a significant look at the man across her, "But Paulie came and snapped him out it. Saved his life and such."

"Hmm. How'd they even meet?" Zoro asked, and then quickly added, "I'm just curious. I didn't expect him to be with—a mechanic."

"Of course," she sweetly replied, "Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought him back. I'm not sure. But I think they started talking since they usually took their breaks outside the fourth studio, in the small alley that runs there. They smoke a lot so that's how." She shrugged, "Romantic in a way." She scrutinized his face subtlety, but could read nothing.

"Ah, and—" Zoro was cut off by his own phone. He took it out from his sweater –he had changed to his plainsclothes—and glanced at it before getting up, "I need to go, it's my girlfriend. Thanks for the chat." He smiled and walked out of the office, "See you tomorrow Ms. Pinwheel."

Nami smiled and waggled her jeweled fingers at him in goodbye. When the greenhaired model had left she burst into laughter and pretended to wipe away a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye, "Cute bastard…you don't have a girlfriend…but you do want a blond boyfriend, don't you?" She chuckled again and started humming a Lady Gaga song under her breath. This would be an interesting next couple of days. Especially if Hancock pulled through with the idea the CEO had been flirting with for a while now. Then it wouldn't just be interesting, it would be fucking hilarious.

~0~

Stroke my beard damnit.