A few days later, Zoro sat up from where he was resting on the worn couch in the bunk room fighting off a coughing fit. His eyes were red and scratchy, his throat felt as if he had swallowed sandpaper, and his nose was constantly running.

Sanji walked in with a small platter on which sat a steaming bowl.

"Here, Asshole. I made you some chicken soup."

"Fuck. You."