Zoro Roronoa is a retired black-ops agent suffering from PTSD; after moving to a small town and getting married in hopes of leaving that life behind him, a chance meeting with a smarmy, blond paramedic changes all of that. Thus ensues a summer of te...
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Back on the road, Zoro kept a hand clasped across his mouth in tense apprehension, elbow propped on the open window as the wind ruffled his hair. Sanji peacefully unperturbed as Zoro mulled over the events that had just occurred that would no doubt finally draw attention to his activity and what was currently going on.
Despite dealing with the dead bodies – along with the gas station attendant that had unfortunately been killed by the hit men while trying to flee – as well as deleting the surveillance footage of the area; Zoro still wasn't satisfied with how that situation had played out. Not only was it going to arouse suspicion among local authorities – even though they would never find the bodies – but it was bringing Zoro to the stark reality that he needed to get Sanji out of this situation now more than ever.
Zoro had messed up.
And it was by sheer dumb luck that the three men hadn't just shot the blond and came storming in after him to finish the job that their buddies had tried to start. A single bullet would've ended everything Zoro had been fighting to preserve, all because he hadn't had the forethought to presume that there may be more people after him. It was tactless mistakes like these - which happened in old age and after retirement - that was going to cost Sanji his life.
Which brought him to the inevitable conclusion that he had to get Sanji under surveillance and as far away from Zoro as possible. It was a painfully inevitable conclusion that would've happened regardless, but Zoro had the grace to admit that a part of him had selfishly been clinging to these last few days. Days spent in each others company that – despite the threat of death – had allowed him to spend such precious quality time with the blond that would no doubt immediately end upon their return to Merryville... or Zoro's death if he didn't manage to live through this whole torrid mess.
It was a solution he wasn't keen on, but had nonetheless thought about on occasion. Not a martyr, but returning to a town with a man that had no interest in him and a wife that no longer loved him wasn't incredibly motivating. There was a reason he had spent years using alcohol as a crutch, and maybe not returning at all wouldn't be the most terrible of solutions to everything...
Zoro was abruptly dragged from his spiralling, self-destructive, mental tirade as Sanji took the next turn off. Car rumbling over the gravelly parking lot as they pulled up to a brightly lit diner, wedged between a gas station and a rather grungy hotel. Concernedly glancing over at the blond beside him, Zoro asked, "What are you doing?"
"I want dinner." Sanji informed matter-of-factly though there was something in his expression that said there was clearly something else remaining unspoken. Casting a sideways glance at Zoro while clearly trying to attempt normalcy, he added, "Also I can smell your wounds."
Zoro remained silent.
He was acutely aware at this point that fighting Sanji on such matters was pointless and hardly worth the effort. Simply grunting softly in acceptance as Sanji pulled the car into a vacant space and jumped out of the vehicle to locate the first aid kit from the backseat. Zoro got out with much less urgency, watching balefully until the blond rounded the car and practically dragged Zoro behind him into the restaurant. Before even locating a table, Sanji was guiding Zoro through the diner towards the bathroom with a hand around Zoro's wrist as though worried he might not follow.
