You know, I seem to be obessed with snow lately. Snow and bloody Zoro. (but who doesn't love a bloody Zoro? XD) And this ficlet, by the way, wrote itself. Doncha just hate it when that happens? The plot bunny (a distant relative) just popped up and I ran with it. And when I stopped running... I was lost.... *shrug* oh well.

Zoro proves he can be all philosophical . . . and stuff.

Sanji and Zoro show a little of their affection and mutual respect (the uninitiated say it looks a lot like 'trying to beat the shit out of each other', but that's because they don't know these two guys very well)

Zoro and Sanji's second time. The less said about the first...

Hamon: From Japanese, lit. 'blade pattern'. The pattern on the steel that characterizes a katana blade, acquired during the folding, forging and tempering process.

Sanji laughed, a short, raspy bark of amusement. "Come on, geezer, you know guys like me and the marimo-head don't see a ripe old age. We live well, grab our dreams, hold tight and die hard at the age of thirty-five. Forty if we're lucky."

Zeff grinned when he saw Zoro pawing at the noose around his neck. "The dress-code's the downside of working in the service industry, kid."

Sanji's cooking has reached a whole new level. It's almost uncanny. Especially when his thoughts and emotions somehow get into the mix along with the rest of the ingredients.