Quit being embarrassing, dumbass.
I miss you too.
Oh come off it, cook. Anyone with eyes could see your terrible luck with women. Maybe if you started treating them like people and less like ‘delicate little flowers’, they’d like you more.
Oi… I don’t need romantic advice from you, marimo. When’s the last time you got laid? When’s the last time you went near a girl or vice versa? Not counting Nami-swan and Robin-chwan of course. Women should be treated like the goddesses that they are!
Says the person who frequents every whore-house he can whenever we make an island stop. Don’t think I don’t see you sneaking off.
Che. I do not frequent whore-houses,
just bath houses. That kind of place degrades women, dumbass. What are you doing watching me anyways? What’s the matter, swords aren’t manly enough for you now?
If I were a woman, I would especially not want a haiku from you.
-Inhales deeply and exhales because it’s way too early to kick your shitty ass across the ship just yet-
What the hell are you trying to say exactly, you untrimmed plant.
Then it wasn’t you? Huh, just seemed like something you would do, lovecook. Writing such ‘romantic’ haiku’s.
Close your shitty mouth. Even if I wrote haiku, it is not for you.
As if I’d ever want a haiku from you.
If you were a hot babe, you’d want a haiku from me.
What the hell! That anon clearly wasn’t me, idiot, or did you hit your head too hard to recognize that. Wait… “Ladies aren’t manly enough…” What? Of course ladies aren’t manly, dumbass. They are delicate like freshly blossoming flowers~~~
Which part of that made sense at all? Are you sober? Did you break into the liquor cabinet again, shitty swordsman?
Sanji screamed in anger from his kitchen in the gallery. Just screamed.
It has been seven days since he last had any cigarette and he was losing his ever loving mind. The errant muscle at the corner of his left eye jumped for the hundredth time as the cook desperately reduced to smelling one of his old suit jacket, inhaling deep just for a hint of the sweet addicting smell of nicotine and ash.
This was all the shitty swordsman’s fault. He cursed that shitface dumbass marimo loudly, though half of his words were muffled and lost into cloth. If only the musclebrain didn’t carelessly knock the cook overboard with one of those weights he so carelessly swung around, then Sanji wouldn’t have lost his very last pack of King Ground to the sea.
He was going to kick that shithead to the moon. He was going to. He was going. He’s going. God, he really needs a fucking smoke.
-sleeping on the table- Zzzz… Eat your damn… soba, bast..