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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Another couple of days had taken them out of China, through Nepal, and into the bustling hubbub of India. Travelling across the massive country to reach Mumbai had been a delightful journey that had been suspiciously uninterrupted aside from a single unfortunate detour. A dense humidity hovered across the highway which had been crammed with traffic and lined with Dhabbas – local shoppes where people served heavy food and crisp tea.
They enjoyed the food while crawling along with the pace of traffic, windows rolled down to endure the summer heat as the radio blared old Hindi songs. Sanji spent most of the drive with his feet resting on the dash, head bobbing along to the music as he watched the diverse landscape roll past. The entire place a dramatic shift from the small rural community he had spent half his life in.
It took them a total of two days to reach Mumbai in which there had been a close call while stopping at a local tourist spot; where a man had been following them for several minutes before Zoro had gotten fed up with his indecisive stalking. When Sanji had his back turned, Zoro slipped away long enough to subtlety wrap an arm around the man's neck and place a hand on the man's mouth, smothering him before knocking him off the viewing platform; easy enough to make it look like an accident when people were far more distracted by the view than with what was going on behind them. When people had begun to gather over the railing to check and see if the man was alright, Zoro had taken the opportunity to wrap an arm around the curious blond and lead with him away with an innocent moue plastered across his face.
It wasn't long before they were driving beneath the large signboard welcoming them to Mumbai and the subsequent city traffic within. The streets were packed – an orderly chaos set about as pedestrians and vehicles intermingled – street lights, street sails, tall buildings, and attractive shopping centres, as well as some areas that were reserved for the slums. The small houses the poor lived in were vividly coloured and beautifully adorned; kept as clean as possible to garner respect.
The drive to South Mumbai was long, but went unnoticed by the blond who kept his head out the window for nearly the entire ride. Zoro had been here a few times before and he supposed that from Sanji's perspective this was practically a vacation. Aside from the ever present threat of murder...
Taking a reprieve from his sight seeing, Sanji ducked back into his seat with an excited grin as he alluded to a conversation that had taken place the other day, "Your old partner lives here?"
"Yeah," Zoro noted absently, beginning to keep an eye out for a secluded area to stash the car, "He used to work for the Embassy in Delhi before getting married; he's been stationed here undercover ever since."
A lecherous grin split Sanji's face as he teased, "You're allowed to tell me all this? Not too confidential? No one's going to come after me?"
While stopped at a red light, Zoro took the opportunity to turn a flat gaze towards the blond - having spent the last week stuck in a car with the man and gotten well acquainted with his biting small talk and childish behaviour - and muttered, "The worst has literally already happened."
