Moderating Manners // One Piece Various x Female Oc

Curious Client

Picture: ???

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Keys:-

"Talking"

'Thinking'

Emphasis/Emphasis

Flashback -- if it is more than two words.

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Curious Client

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"It seems like our tour guide has moved on to more important clients!" The baritone voice sent shivers down Hiriko's spine, the familiar sound shaking her to her core. The sentence itself was threaded with thinly veiled condescending undertones, yet it was the voice that snuck shook her.

Hiriko knew she wasn't in any condition to fight -- especially not against someone of her opponent's caliber. For the first time in a long time, Hiriko felt fear. Not for herself, but for the man she was protecting. Although she didn't know King Cobra well, she was familiar with his daughter and Hiriko cared for Vivi. Hiriko didn't think she'd be able to live with herself if she failed to protect not only Albasta's king but Vivi's father.

So, with a deep breath accompanied by a flare of the nostrils, Hiriko twirled around. The flaps of her torn pants danced in the wind, her matted locks following their lead. Quelling her fear, she straightened her buckling knees. Most of her weight was supported by her right, (somewhat) uninjured, leg causing her frame to skew in that direction. In an attempt to balance herself, she placed her hands on her waist, jutting out her hip in a sassy pose she had seen Nami do many times. It felt beyond awkward to her, and Hiriko found herself more focused on her pose than on the intimidating enemy staring her down. So, in some regards, it was very effective, but not for its intended purpose. Yet, she forced herself to maintain the pose, amendment on hiding her weakness for as long as possible.

Hiriko faced her enemy, tugging her lips into a smile she knew would agitate them. Crocodile wasn't the best at maintaining his composure, surprisingly. However, Hiriko's smile wavered at the sight that greeted her. He wasn't alone.

Besides Crocodile's large frame stood a dark-skinned man with a shaved head and narrowed eyes, his pose was relaxed yet dominant. On Crocodile's other side was a woman, she had a mop of dark blue hair and fair skin that was exposed by the numerous cut-outs of her flimsy bodysuit. Lastly, there was a male with dark hair and skin caked with extravagant stage makeup, his body clad in an ornate ballerina outfit, his pose was twisted into an arabesque. As Hiriko took in the last person, she recalled how the straw hats had warned her about a drag-queen who could physically imitate their appearance. To the extent of her knowledge though, Hiriko knew that she was safe as long as she kept her distance from the theatrical ballerina.

"Crocodile-san!" Hiriko called out cheerfully. The group showed varying degrees of shock at her warm greeting. The dark-skinned male seemed unaffected, aside from a subtle twitch of his fingers. The woman seemed unamused. The ballerina seemed delighted for some reason. Crocodile appeared the most perplexed, perhaps, but hid it under a sneer.

Crocodile's lackeys had all been caught off guard when the first took in the sight they had arrived to. Two members of the number-agents had been defeated. Mr. 4 was sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Dorphy was laying on the dirt, whimpering and whining quietly. The King, more importantly, was no longer bound. Instead, he cowered behind a small, golden-eyed girl. The girl, with her blood-caked skin and bruise colored appendages, looked like she was barely hanging onto life. Yet, she stood with her shoulder's back and chin jutted in their presence, confidence oozing out of every cut on her body.