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You were walking through the small town in search for a bookstore or a library, as you heard commotion from a small tavern to your right. Just seconds later a man came flying through the door and landed on the street with a thump and a loud grunt right in front of your feet. Drunken laughs following him from inside the building. This was a common thing these last days, since all kind of pirate crews had gathered on this island to follow the strawhats' call for a get together.
"Hey babe, what are you doing tonight?" the man asked with an intoxicated smirk on his face from his spot below you. Seemed like he had recovered pretty fast from his little flight. With a shake of your head and a role of your eyes, you stepped over the man on the ground and ignored his calls while walking on.
You didn't really care what the pirates were doing as long as they didn't bother you. You were no pirate, nor were you a marine, a bounty hunter or anything along that line. All you were, was a traveller, a seeker for knowledge and experiences. And an author. As soon as you had been old enough, you had been jumping from island to island, always in search for the mysteries and stories each place held. At some point you had started to write down all the strange, interesting, dangerous and unique things each single island had to offer and after meeting someone who had wanted to publish your notes, your books quickly had become one of the most important source of information for everyone who wishes to travel the grand line. For you on the other it had become an easy source for money that guaranteed and founded your further travels. Travels that guaranteed new material for books. The perfect system.
But you not only were interested in the nature of each island; everything new was a source of inspiration to you and on this day, you were in the mood to read. Finally you had found a store and were glad to close out the noises from the street as the door fell shut behind you. An elderly woman behind the counter offered you a small smile and a nod as you passed by, which you returned, then your attention was on the books. They had a wide range of topics, from history, over geography to biology and medicine. "Medicine" you mumbled and stepped up to the shelve while the image of a tall, slender man flashed through your mind.
Diseases, Drugs, Organs, all kind of books stood in row, but your gaze was drawn to a big one above you that read with bold letters "Surgical Techniques". Reaching up, your grabbed it and opened it at a random page. To tell the book was detailed was as underestimation. With widened eyes and slightly paler than before you studied the different pictures that explained very precisely how to take care of any kind of wound, fracture or similar things and you really wondered how he was able to do this without throwing up. The human body really was as fascinating as it was disgusting.
Deciding that you would leave this topic to other people, you snapped the book shut and tried to place it back on the shelve above you, but you were a tad bit too small. While struggling, you felt a presence behind you and a body was pressed to your back. You were about to snap at whoever was enclosing on you but then an arm reached out above your head and pushed the book on its rightful place. The tattoos that adorned the knuckles of the hand, were easy to recognize and you relaxed against the warm body behind you.
