quipsandthwips | [PSL] The Vinsmokes vs. Spider-Man

[PSL] The Vinsmokes vs. Spider-Man

[Peter Parker is doing fine.

Let him re-phase that: he's adapted and adjusted accordingly. Look, it hasn't been easy. Deciding to remain friends with MJ and still finding himself without an actual job or home to speak of doesn't beat losing both his mentor and his last surviving family member. There are empty spaces in his life that he tries not to linger on too long — but god, he misses May's smile, her voice, her kindnesses. It had taken so long to accept Ben's death... and now it's, just... it's hard. It's easier to just be Spider-Man for a while.

Crime doesn't sleep, after all. So yeah, homeless. That's no biggie. He's been there before. He mainly just works at FEAST with the homeless (he relates, and the new head honcho Miriam knew Peter was on the streets somehow, so he makes his keep there by volunteering. He, um. He gets to sleep in May's old office. It's... nice. There are still pictures and stuff hanging up that nobody had dared move.

So he's only sort of homeless now.

Anyway. Not important. What is important is keeping tabs on the villain activity around here. With most of the villains locked up aboard the Raft (not gonna even think about Dr. Octavius right now, because it still hurts too much), it's mainly these little obnoxious crime families and gangs; Kingpin had been the leader of all the gang activity before his arrest. And now it's this crime family. The Vinsmokes. Hard to get them arrested, and they've got so many secret strings being pulled all over. It makes for a real pain in the ass to deal with. He hasn't gotten a chance to catch the head honcho with anything criminal yet, but boy oh boy has he busted soooo many drug deals, weapons manufacturing, stolen goods deals — and so on.

Most of the grunts are easy-peasy. The literal family are all a bunch of super-powered heathens like him. Cool. He's gotten, like, three of them locked up on the Raft... only to have them somehow bought out, or released for shoddy police work, or something or another. Now there's just one locked up, but it's only a matter of time before Daddy Vinsmoke does his magic.

Ugh. He hates it.

2:30 a.m., and he's down by the docks and sticking against a nearby wall as fake money exchanges hands.]

Hey, do those work on any vending machine?

I'm dying for a bag of Doritos right about now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Spoilers: Sanji is burning this shirt, too, hopefully Peter wasn't attached to it. B|]

That right, huh.

[He sounds only vaguely interested in Peter's first aid skills, though rather than let the thread of conversation die, Sanji instead folds his arms and sits down as instructed, humming in his throat]

You normally get beat-up hobos at the door?

[Gosh, Sanji, live a little.

He chuckles low in his throat as he begins to carefully administer the gel; he's a particularly light touch, thanks to his hyper-awareness, and is the polar opposite of a butterfingers. Thank you, weird-sticky-hands.]

Sometimes. I've been stabbed once, but that was sort of my own fault for ignoring, uh — common sense. [Or spider-sense. But if he hadn't stayed in the guy's way, he would have stabbed one of the workers next to him, and that would've tore Peter up for a while. Worse, if that person had died. He blows out a little breath, puffing his cheeks.] When you're out on the streets, you deal with some of the best of humanity — but also some of the worst. Some stumble in after getting beat by teenagers. Some get into brawls over turf. Some... fight themselves, uh, if you know what I mean.

It's important I know how to help each one, either way. So I took a few courses, stocked up on kits for FEAST, had some volunteers learn how to administer basic stuff. People need to feel like they're in good hands.

[He pushes back some of Sanji's bangs to focus on a spot further back on his temple.]

It's what May would've wanted.

[Belatedly, Sanji realizes he should have put on the gel himself, and that makes subjecting himself to Peter's ministrations a lesson in discomfort. There's a perpetual scrunch to his brow whenever the other leans into his space, or touches his face, or does... anything, really.

Though for whatever reason, his agitation isn't enough to propel him away. Peter pushes at his bangs and the man only frowns before his expression smooths back into a stony quality]

Tch. Knew you were a boy scout.

[... Mm. But that name. Glancing to the side, gaze avoiding Peter's. After a beat of quiet:]

Your aunt, right?

[Peter smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

Yeah. I'm sure by now you got some kind of — um. Secret meeting with someone in FEAST, to tread carefully, but it's alright.

She raised me since I was six, so... more like a mom, I guess.

[Done with his handiwork, he begins re-packing the kit.]

After she passed away a few months ago during the Devil's Breath epidemic... I took over this garden. [He motions to it, sighing, shoulders dipping.] But I've been doing a pretty bad job at keeping it going. Because anything food-related ends disastrously for me. But I'm trying, y'know?

[Ah, the Devil's Breath epidemic. An incident Sanji had only caught the tail-end of. Even with a small chunk of New York under their command, the Vinsmokes hadn't dared start a mafia war with Kingpin, so it was only after the latter had been arrested that his family had truly moved in.

By that point, the epidemic had made its mark on the city and then just as quickly blown over... for the best, to be honest. Sanji can only imagine what kind of interest his father would have taken in such a powerful drug.]

Yeah, Gloria told me to keep my mouth shut. [Lost in his thoughts, his response is a distant mutter. He reaches up and drags a finger through the gel on his cheek] Told me you suck at gardening, too.

[Eh, perhaps not said that harshly, but--]

You're probably overwatering them. Plants are really damn resilient normally, so loving 'em too much kills the whole shitty bunch. Gotta treat them like fussy teenagers. [Making a vague hang gesture at Peter]

Cut off the dead leaves, water 'em once, then leave them alone for a couple of days at least. If they're not perking up, you might have a pest problem instead.

[He looks more than a little interested in the advice being given; if he had a notepad and pen, he'd probably be writing it all down excitedly, even. As it is, he's applying it to basic memory with a humored little smile.]

Right. Fussy teenagers.

[He almost seemed to flick his gaze right at Sanji, when he says it.

But nah, couldn't have been.

After a moment, clearing his throat, he holds out a folded piece of paper.]

Anyway, um. I was actually going to give this to you — I figure since... May was going to come up, I grabbed this on the way. [Unraveling it will show a recipe, written in nice, girlish handwriting.] This is her recipe for wheatcakes. Kind of her specialty; she used to make them for FEAST all the time, and I knew you'd be the one who could make them as good as she did.

Then... between this and keeping the garden alive, it'll feel less like she's gone.

... I mean, if you want to — you don't have to, I just thought. You know.

[So long as Peter heeds his advice, Sanji is willing to let that look slide (don’t think he didn’t see it, bastard). And trust him, he’ll be on the lookout for improvement. It’s not that he has a soft spot for plants so much as he sees no reason why Peter can’t improve.

He wants to do this for his aunt; might as well give him the tools to avoid a fuck up.

The recipe receives a measured stare long before Sanji reaches out to take it, and even then, the glance down the list of ingredients is more somber than usual. It’s the kind of look that acts as a precursor to a “no” in most cases (or perhaps just Sanji’s), but after an eventual sigh]

They won’t taste exactly like hers.

[rolling the recipe back up and pocketing it]

Bet even if I follow this shit to a T, you’ll notice a difference.

[Chefs put a little bit of themselves into every creation. And last time he checked, he’s not a dead woman. He steadies a look at Peter then, silently asking if that’s what he wants. Just because his wheat cakes will taste good doesn’t mean no one is gonna be disappointed in the end. ]

[Peter shakes his head, grinning at the roof's floor.]

As long as it doesn't taste worse, I know she'd be happy knowing someone was still making them.

[Because he would not hesitate to try and make her happy, even if she wasn't in this world anymore. Either way, he's relieved that Sanji's thinking of doing this. It's for May, but... also, it's a way to hopefully remind him he's welcomed. It's not like they don't all have crap days. And maybe, uh. Maybe he's taken on the cause of converting Sanji from mafia villain to FEAST hero. Or something.

He's always been a bleeding heart.

It's how Felicia always gets the jump on him, after all.

There is good in Sanji. It's just under some strong defenses.

He nudges him with a shoulder and looks too pleased.]

You're a hell of a bristly guy, but you're not so bad.

Stop.

[Bristling right the fuck up the moment Peter starts getting playful.]

Don't get the wrong idea; this is me doing you a favor, bastard, so we're even.

[Does he really think Peter requires a bribe to keep his mouth shut? No, not a boyscout like this. But it's the principle of it. Any mafia family not willing to back up their promises quickly die, that's the law of the land. It's why most of them don't promise shit.

It's why Sanji hates being in someone's debt.

... Well, that's what he gets for sharing a weakness, he supposes. And considering all the questions Peter could have demanded, this is as good a scenario as he's going to get. Mood already softened back into place, Sanji ruffles more water out of his hair and gingerly moves to stand. He feels so soggy...]

I still don't like you.

Oh, same here, I can't stand you.

[He doesn't... sound like he remotely means that, as he gets up to his feet. From there, as they go back to their prospective jobs... Things get, uh, really normal and quiet again? He again leaves Sanji to his devices. Mostly. There are definitely times where he tries to sneak a peak at him and make sure he's not hurt or anything like that — sometimes with mixed results, but he's at least not forcing Sanji into any confessionals around here. But, um. Things are great. Things are moving along, and his skirmishes with Sanji as Spider-Man? Well, none of them are ending in horrific injuries or anything.

It's about as good a situation as can be expected, with a mafia boss' son showing up to work for you day in and day out. He sees it as a sort of begrudging... friendship... thing? He thinks. He has no clue that Gloria is sneaking around his back to 'Alessandro' — that she's snooping about just what had happened on that rooftop, or just why they seem to keep looking at each other, or why she swears Sandy's wearing Peter's dumb shirt... If she suspects something, though, Peter has certainly not caught on.

Instead he just stares at the chef from one of the cafeteria tables, hand on his cheek, spacing out a little as he watches him work (and expertly evades his gaze, just in the nick of time). It's been nice. It's been really, really nice, to see someone he fights on a weekly basis doing so many good things. After what had happened with Mr. Li... Doctor Octavius... It's just... all good.

Maybe I can save this one, he thinks — before feeling a little awkward.

He's out front, handling more boxes of charity goods, when good things go a little bad.]

[There's a big boom outside, one so strong, it shakes the whole building. People outside are scrambling, panicked, and Marcos is rushing around the steps of FEAST yelling for Peter — because he'd been right there, and now there is debris from a huge crashed big rig that had been barreling down the street, hitting everything in its path before practically obliterating the charity truck. "Pete?! Pete, where are—?!"

He coughs as fire licks at the wreckage of the rig; Peter Parker's no where in sight. But there is a bald man — marked with scars from past gigs — standing atop the crushed pile of metal with a sort of metal contraption bound around him. He flicks his arms — and chains whip at the air sharply. Who is it? Well, he's a new face. Civilians run screaming, and with lifeless, almost robotic eyes, the figure steps off the wreckage and starts descending on what crowd lingers.

"His will is mine."

Marcos puts his fists up, ready to rush this impossibly muscular guy with his whips that are clearly strong enough to smash skulls and break bones — and that's exactly what would have happened to his stupidly brazen self, if not for Spider-Man flying into the scene to kick the villain off the steps of FEAST and back into a smokey self-made arena.]

You've got some nerve, ruining a perfectly good morning for these people!

What crawled up your ass and died, huh?!

[... Peter's a little pissed off. The quips aren't quite without venom, as he jumps out of the way of long, flashing chains and kicks the guy hard in the chest; he doesn't quite notice the haunted, possessed look he's got yet, but he's working on it, honest. The guy nearly ran him into the asphalt, hurt a bunch of people making their way on the street, ruined the supplies for FEAST — he's not quite so ready to think maybe, just maybe, this is a puppet.]

[Sanji really wishes Gloria had more incentive to bother Peter with her questions, frankly. He's not sure if it's because he's lowly kitchen staff or because everyone's so determined to leave Peter be, but the woman rides his ass about every little thing, from their disappearance on the roof to the number of times she catches Sanji glancing at Peter sitting in the cafeteria with that stupid look in his eye.

The amusement from the shelter is damn near palatable, and probably why Sanji's twice as quick to bite Peter's head off for assumed grievances. He and Peter have an understanding, nothing else. The guy's made good on his promises so far -- not even mentioning the burns on Sanji's face when they had healed a little too quickly. The least Sanji can do is keep his end of the bargain, then, sneaking afternoons to work on his version of May's wheat cakes (and, perhaps, occasionally ask Peter for his input. Y'know. If he's not too busy being a good samaritan to everyone else).

So maybe if all of y'all could stop making assumptions. There is nothing to see here, thanks, shitheads--

Holy shit, when the building shakes, though. His ear drums ring in time with the pot of chicken stock nearly shimmying itself straight off the stove top, and Sanji hears Gloria curse behind him as she tries to avoid getting smacked by hanging pans.]

Oi, take cover! I'm checking outside. [Giving her no time to order that he stay his ass put, Sanji darts out the doorway and through the cafeteria, to the front door, to the --

To the mess of screaming people and debris outside, what the hell. Is that a big rig just plowed on their steps? And of course Macros is wigging out about something, double timing it to Sanji's side after Bug Man kicks someone into the smoking pile.

"Sandy! I can't find Pete!"]

-- What. [Feeling his heart rate flare as he looks to the big rig with a grimmer, paled expression. No, that stupid idiot cannot be--]

Get back inside, I'm looking for him. [Not bothering to check if Marcos is gonna listen, Sanji heads straight toward the thick of the battle -- it's the best way to get to the fallen big rig and check, no matter that it's smoldering and maybe a few minutes from catching into a proper fire.]

[Marcos listens, albeit hesitantly — and not without helping a few other startled people inside the building. Searching for Peter has left little to be found; there are boxes of charitable goods strewn everywhere, the frame of the truck they came in twisted and mauled into an ugly shape in the middle of the wreckage; the driver had been fortunate, rushing away at the sight of the rig in his rear-view.

As Sanji searches, Spider-Man leaps, avoiding those whips that are strong enough to leave indentions in the asphalt. One hand grabs the tail end of the chain, and he yanks hard, trying to keep it taut and unusable.]

C'mon, I'm really - not into this - kind of thing...!

[Whoop, baldy snaps the chainwhip, and Spider-Man goes flying into the sky.

How're you doing down there, Sanji?

Er. Alessandro, sorry.]

[Oh, y'know how it is -- pissed the fuck off and growing more and more agitated when his search comes up short. Peter being surprisingly fit will not have saved him from a wreckage, Sanji knows that, and the knot that sits in his stomach breaks him into a cold sweat.

Shit, he can't even kick the trucks over to check underneath, can he? Everyone's got their eyes on the arachnid enthusiast, but all it takes is one stray hobo sniffing around the area...]

-- Oi, bastard!

[Snarling at the bald man, not a hint of fear in his face or voice.]

Take it elsewhere or I'll escort you to hell myself!

[Sanji: the master of making friends.]

[Spider-Man lands on the side of a building rather gracefully (see: without face-planting) and looks down to Sanji with slightly widened lenses. Like. In theory, he kind of knew the guy was gonna nose his way into this, but... No, no buts. If he could get back-up here...? That would be sweet. No, no, Sanji's trying to keep a low profile...! This is messy. This is gonna be super messy.]

Uh—! What're—

What're you doing here?! [The whip snaps again, and he leaps from the wall just as it hits, smashing some of the red brick beneath.] Okay, not important; look at his eyes! He's barely on this planet!

[And it's pretty true. Looking into baldy's eyes seems to imply, well. That he's drugged, or under some kind of influence. He sways as he walks: aiming to hurt and maim the hero in his path, sure, but also entirely slack-faced as he goes. He says, again, "His will his mine...!" before snapping his weapon in Sanji's direction next.]

[The normal response from Sanji sure would be "Fuck off or I'll kill you, too", if not for that pesky low-profiling. Spider-Man gets one hell of a nasty look for his troubles instead, before his attention returns to the swaying idiot whipping around chains like a drunk gang member.]

Hell it is, then.

[Sorry, stranger. You're fuckin with the man's investment here. There's also the fact that Peter might be dead, and the furious smirk on Sanji's face is all the more unhinged for it.]

Oi. Did you see a guy my size? Brown hair? Good Samaritan? [casually stepping forward] I hope for your sake you have.

[He's spent enough times chasing after Arachnid Boy to know how to dodge, even without the usual flame and fanfare. There's a sidestep, the chain breezing past his cheek as the man picks up speed. This is fuckin stupid and risky to be pulling moves out in public, especially where all of his coworkers can see, where that idiot Spider-Man can pass judgment.

But.

Fuck it. Fuck them all. He's pissed now, and tries to stamp his shoe directly into the bald man's face.]

[Suffice to say, baldy doesn't say a thing in response. Sanji's kick connects, sending the guy flying backwards and rolling across the cracked earth; Spider-Man winces (that's gotta hurt, and maybe cost a dentist visit), and aims a web to restrain him on the floor—

Or at least that was what he was going for, because the guy somehow rolls onto his feet and instantly slashes away Peter's webshot with his chains. Despite having a gash in his forehead from Sanji's attack that is dripping blood, the dude still has all his teeth. And still is emotionless, like a puppet. The sight sends tingles up the base of Spider-Man's spine. What the hell...?

Okay, no, focus, Pete. Think of the physics behind this; what needs adjusting?]

Hey! Give him another one of those kicks — I'll be faster on the shot!

[If he hits him mid roll, knows it's gonna connect and focuses his webshooters in the right spot, then he should be able to keep the guy completely pinned. Hopefully. God, otherwise there could be some serious injuries here on top of who is already hurt or worse — and he can't let that happen...!]

[... Huh.

Admittedly, Sanji didn't go for full strength in front of a group of civilians, but god, he was at least hoping for a stagger. He hates it when jobs last longer than one hit. Sighing, he folds his arms and lowers his foot, giving it a shake to work out the numbness from impact.]

Ain't you a shitty charmer.

[-- And of course Spider-Man is up there, being bossy. There's another irritable look because this sounds a lot like a comedy duo act, but that doesn't stop Sanji from acquiescing. This one time -- one time -- he'll oblige, when he stands too much to lose letting this nutcase walk around free.

He tries again for a hit, this time aimed more squarely in the man's chest as he does his best to dodge those whips.]

Here -- now do your job!

[Can do. He fires twin webs and hits the guy dead-on in he chest, leaving plenty of room to keep blasting until he's stuck to the ground under a blanket of spider web. Police sirens scream in the distance. The bald guy starts pulling apart the web with sheer willpower, his shoulders heaving as his arms try to burst from the cocoon.

Spider-Man sends a few volts of electricity through the webs still attached to his wrists, and the guy jerks, finally fainting in his restraints. As the webhead lands near a fiery wreckage by Sanji, he gives a thumbs up — not to be funny, but because he's genuinely so fucking relieved to have this guy out of commission. Especially near FEAST. God, there's a real mess here, and he hopes there aren't any fatalities (but when does he ever get what he wants).]

Good work, man.

[No jabs, no mention of his new leaf turned toward being the 'good guy'.

Just pure relief.]

I'll handle turning him in — uh. [How the hell do you talk to one of your villainous rivals, when they're not villainous to you anymore? God, this web is not a pleasant one weaved. What have you done here, Peter Parker?] If you're feeling up to it, maybe scout for anyone in need of an ambulance? They should... be on their way.

[Good for Spider-Man that he gets to ignore Sanji’s criminal background for the sake of a building and a few civilians.

Sanji doesn’t.

In fact, the ramifications of sticking his nose into this mess have already turned his shoulders taunt, expression wooden when the asshole stands there giving suggestions like Sanji is his little worker bee. Fuckin spare him, there is no way in hell the superhero doesn’t recognize a crime lord’s son. And Sanji’s disguise had never meant to hide his identity from people who already knew him; just keep the general masses from expecting anything more than a run of the mill hobo.

So what the fuck is this, huh? Spider-Man’s way of reminding him he can’t do shit if he’s not brave enough to wear his own suit? Well the shithead isn’t wrong about that. Sanji can’t take a jab at him — Spider-Man is too well loved by the city to be openly hostile. Even shooting him a glare is pushing his luck, and it’s why Sanji decides not to bother.

Instead, he... smiles. Like they’re old pals. Leans in and offers Spider-Man a pat on the shoulder, with his hand remaining in place.

The palm feels uncomfortably warm, like the bottom of a pan left on the stove. Not enough to burn, but the warning is pretty damn clear. ]

‘M gonna do you a shitty solid and assume you’re not that stupid. [Keeping his voice low, smile still fixed in place ] Can’t blame a guy for being on the clock, but in case you feel like snooping later, I’ll twist your head off like a bottle cap next time we meet. So mind your shitty manners, eh?

[ :) ]

Oh. And find a kid called Peter Parker for me. You fuck it up, you die.

[ :)!! ]

[A-ahaha. He thought this'd be how things went. So maybe it'll take a little more time to get Sanji more heroic. Maybe just a little. He holds up his hands in a disarming, placating way. At least this isn't ending in a tussle with a Vinsmoke? Peter can't complain about this — though now he's starting to worry about the civilians left scattered after the fact.]

You got it, pal. I'll keep a look out.

[Then he's off, swooping in to help any of the injured. At the end of the day, there were two people in critical, two stable, and a whole boatload of more mild injury. Detective Yuri — dear sweet confidant from the police, his source of 'inside scoops' — gives him a knowing nod as they load the guy up into a high-defense van that will take him to the Raft. The bald guy, he's not saying a peep, just keeps staring and practically drooling on himself.

It's all sorts of wrong. There's a lot to this, a lot to discover. And Spider-Man is worrying that this may be a tiny army in wait, if someone's manipulating others into their bidding. He just keeps repeating it over and over: his will is my own. It's an hour before Spider-Man finally swings off, leaving the clean-up to professionals, to firefighters and clean-up crews and officers.]

["PETER!"

One of the volunteers with a round face and shockingly red hair, Celeste, throws her arms around the man's shoulders as he appears from down the sidewalk, in-between the construction guys still sweeping debris. Peter looks kinda worse for wear, clothes smelling like smoke, patterned here and there with soot and debris; he's got a goose-egg on his forehead and some pretty unkempt hair, but otherwise... Solid.

He winces, and puts a hand on her back.]

Owowow, careful — I got thrown pretty hard there... My back's killing me...

[He has a story at the ready, as Celeste leans back and wipes at her eyes in relief. "Alessandro and Marcos have been looking for you...! They were calling the hospitals, and — and helping with looking through any wreckage, and I thought... I thought maybe the rig hit you, and you were just... gone..." She's about to burst into more tears (emotional gal, always has been), and he just rubs circles in her back with apologies on his tongue.]

Sorry, I was hiding out during that big fight, and I — I ended up needing to help someone who was hurt, and it was kind of a blur, honestly... I'll — I'll go let 'em know I'm okay. Which way'd they go?

["Inside FEAST. Calling around hospitals. If you weren't there..." Before she can burst into more tears, he calms her with a shoulder squeeze before making his way back inside — and everyone kinda looks at him like he's a ghost at first, before relieved voices start bouncing around the facility.

Time to go let everyone know he's totally not dead?]

[An hour of no-show from Peter and predictably, the shelter had been hollowed out by a state of grim shock. It hadn't just been "Sandy" and Marcos on the search; anyone with time to spare had made inquiries to the police, to civilians, to some of the regulars, with their eyes and ears on alert for any news that would ease the tension. It'd only been an hour since the incident, after all -- with all this organized chaos, surely Peter had just been overlooked.

So it's a relief to everyone's nerves that word spreads quickly in a place like this. The moment Peter returns and everyone already knows of it, somehow, most of them acting like they never doubted for a second he had to be alive. Just wouldn't be fair, y'know? Maybe that's how it is on this bitch of an Earth, but no, not Peter. He just... can't die that easily on 'em.

Gloria sticks her head into the kitchen -- "Sandy, Peter's in front!" -- before she heads out to greet him (and probably ride his ass for worrying the staff half the death).]

... S'not like I care, y'know. [Muttered under his breath, to no one, as the volunteer continues serving on trays what's soon to be the lunch rush, once the shelter has settled down some. Turns out people still need to eat, even when a big rig nearly rammed through the front door. He's got no time to see Peter, is his excuse. Shit knows the bastard is probably being mobbed by his legion of fans.]

... Well. [Taking a break, he leans into the oven, a brief smirk overtaking him as he listens to the jubilation in the cafeteria] Guess I owe Spider-Man doritos. [Heh]

[Peter makes his way through, with many back pats, hugs, and joyful words — a face-lift to an otherwise unpleasant day, to be sure, because their supplies for the day were... uh. Definitely totaled. They'll get by, though. They always do.

Peter eventually makes his way into the kitchen, smiling at him a little; he's still dressed in his slightly wartorn attire befitting a man who was nearly splattered by a big rig going 60 an hour. But with him comes a sort of fond aura (because everyone's already told him how much Sandy'd been looking high and low for him while he was missing).]

... Hey.

[And in case Sanji's worried it'll devolve immediately into sappiness:]

What's for lunch?

Since we lost our shitty supplies? Soup.

[Easy to make, easy to mass produce. The fact Sanji makes it taste like food from a five star restaurant is beside the point. A closer inspection will show it's a recipe based off the loaded potato, complete with bacon, green onions, sour cream, and shredded cheese fixings for anyone who wants it. After that, he's got slices of baked bread (some with garlic and cheese, some without) stationed to the side.

Not bad, really.]

Oh, and -- Congrats on not dying, I guess. [God knows he was completely unaffected. Obviously. Twirling a ladle in his hand, Sanji glances over his shoulder, expression somehow both neutral and judgy]

You look like shit.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject