The Storm Pirates

Leaving Alabasta

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Chapter 43 (Admiral Sakazuki), Chapter 44 (Jaya), Chapter 45 (Marshall D. Teach), Chapter 46 (Noland "The Liar"), Chapter 47 (Akainu, Absolute Justice), Chapter 48 (Warlords of The Sea), and Chapter 49 (Akainu's Justice) are already available for Patrons.

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Nico Robin

He feels her settle next to him more than he hears it, the sound of her white fur-trimmed coat making no sound even as it brushes along the dirty hardwood floor and drapes itself along the back rim of the barstool she delicately settles herself upon. An elegance and grace that's out of place in the middle of the pub they are in, yet she fits right in, almost as if she belongs there. The people around them are boisterous, noisy, and drunken only a group of people on a Friday night could be – especially in a country like Alabasta, where the temperature drops to below freezing by nightfall, people gravitate to places with warm food and warm company and warm alcohol. Despite the hearty atmosphere of the pub, however, the air around the two of them hangs strangely heavy and loaded.

He drains his tankard of ale and shoves another cut of chicken down his throat, relaxed; if the woman next to him wants something, she can damn well ask for it.

The bartender walks over with a glass of wine and sets it down in front of the woman; she accepts it with a smile and a small nod, curling long fingers around the stem. "New around town?" She asks, not looking in his direction as she takes a sip of her drink, staring straight ahead – but there is a smile playing on her lips. There's a cowboy hat perched on top of her head. He shovels another forkful of meat down his throat.

"Yeah," he answers after he's chewed and swallowed.

The woman tilts her head to the side, inspecting the glass in her hand as if checking for smudges.

"Are you here on any particular business, second division commander of the Whitebeard pirates?"

The woman sitting next to him was beautiful, but nowhere near Isuka's level, and the innocent smile on her face was annoying. He knew she was anything but innocent. Ace has traveled to many places as a pirate, been on a million different islands and countries and cities, and have found beautiful women in each, but it isn't the beauty of the woman beside him that takes Ace's attention; it's something else. A kind of danger. The woman next to him is classy and wicked, sweet like marzipan and poisonous like cyanide all at once, and her almond-shaped eyes close in a slit-eyed smile when Ace chances a glance in her direction. Ace can respect that.

Ace grins around the rim of his ale, even as his spine stiffens and his attention expands to take in his surroundings, calculating the distance from his stool to the nearest exit and all the potential danger spots along the way.

"Not really. Here on a personal trip, you can call it. I'm not here to make trouble." Ace answers honestly.

The woman beside him hum, once; a short, amused sound, mellifluous like deep water. It is almost lost in the din of the pub they are in. A finger traces almost carelessly around the rim of the wine glass. Still, Ace watches from the corner of his eye how that finger never wavers from its steady trajectory, the line of the glass always pressed exactly in the middle of that finger, and knows this woman is anything but relaxed. Confident, perhaps, but not relaxed; the bow of her spine is stiff and unyielding, taut like a too-tight string under the loose soft layers of her fur coat, and Ace wonders briefly whether that's why she wears it in this fucking sauna-like desert country – to hide the stiffness of her back, her smile – before pushing the thought away to the recesses of his brain. It's absolutely none of his goddamn business.