"So…where'd that come from?" the navigator inquired with feigned confidence whetting each syllable. A long, clean cut ran from Zoro's shoulder, down his torso, right to the side of his hip. Brutal scaring and haphazard stitching complimented the gruesome image that marred his perfect body—not so that it was unattractive, rather it made him look more hard and intimidating. The first time she saw it, she'd been aghast; the cut had to have sliced though some multitude of vital organs. How was it that Zoro was still breathing peacefully after having his insides mauled?
The swordsman glanced up from his spot against the musty planks of the Merry's storeroom, an eye peeking lazily at her.
"Well," he said, rising with a huff and dusting himself off, "after you ran off with our ship, we got a visitor to the Baratie." She flinched a little. He still resented her. Of course he did.
In an attempt to hide her guilty eyes, Nami took exaggerated paces around the swordsman, as if inspecting him, before setting herself on a crate of preservative salt.
"I'll have you know that I didn't steal anything of yours. I borrowed it. Now tell me—who was this visitor?"
The green-haired swordsman flashed that shit-eating grin of his and chuckled with mirth, "Is that an order? Because First Mates don't take orders from lackeys."
Frustration and derision rose in the pit of her stomach and she made to leave the storeroom. Perhaps a nice bath would get her mind off his arrogant—
"Mihawk," he announced as her palm pressed against the door. "It was Hawkeye Mihawk who gave this to me."
A shiver ran down the navigator's spine. Mihawk? The legendary swordsman of the Shichibukai? Terror invaded her throat and she couldn't hide it when she turned to observe the grimace on his face.
"You fought with M-Mihawk? What on Earth possessed you to do something so stupid?"
Zoro fixed her with a piercing stare and she was suddenly afraid she'd gone too far. As much as she pretended to have them all figured out, Nami knew very little about the moss-head. She wasn't inherently sympathetic, but he had just helped liberate Cocoyashi Village from eight long years of tyranny; perhaps tact would serve her well.
"Erm, sorry, I just meant—"
"I have my reasons. Anyway, I lost the fight, and the bastard cut me down."
"And you still went to fight Arlong?" Nami was vaguely aware of her agape jaw—very dignified.
Zoro cocked a green brow. "Did I have a choice?" With that, he yawned and pushed through the storeroom door.
As the wood creaked shut, Nami wondered what that meant.
Her lips trace deliciously across his hard abdomen, planting soft kisses at each stitch. He's huffing with the effort of restraining himself, but her Cheshire grin just widens and she continues to tease him. After all, he evilly and deliberately exposes his chest every day and she's forced to turn a blind eye to save them mortification at the hands of their crew-mates. He can bear the torture until the heat sucks her in too.