What's left of the little eggplant is a half-empty packet of cigarettes and a bloodied tie.

…as witnessed, told, and suffered through by the Bravest Warrior of the Sea, Usopp. Sanji loves Zoro. Zoro loves Sanji. They are also, somehow, obliviously, infuriatingly, in an unrequited love with each other. Usopp thinks he can do something about it. He really should have had more self-preservation instinct than that.

Zoro gets lost, Sanji gets captured by the marines, the Strawhats break into the ship's prison, and they all escape with a bang. Not exactly in that order, much to the confusion of Sanji's cellmates.

Sanji is carefully placing a cherry on top of the ice cream, his hands nimble, soft, almost—gentle. But all Zoro sees is the way the hems of his pants are still soaked in blood from an earlier skirmish with a marine ship, red seeping into the cracks on the floorboard, spattering across the kitchen floor in a slow drip, drip, drip. Zoro stares, fascinated. He can’t bring himself to look away. (Or, Zoro and Sanji—terrible monsters, in love)

The sign, standing unassuming outside the Grand Line Coffee Shop in a handwriting Sanji recognizes as Usopp’s, says: TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS: 1. Hella fucking gay. 2. Desperately single. FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I’D RECOMMEND: You give me your number. Or, the one coffee shop au where Usopp pulls a prank, Sanji is unexpectedly (read: completely unexpected to him and only him) popular among the male population of their campus, and Zoro just wants to grab a coffee.