[Sanji's arrival had gone without much fanfare or fuss, he'd figured out quickly that the SmartSnail system had all of the information he needed. And once that was dealt with, his next goal was to touch base and figure out where everyone was. And how many of everyone. And how much more he'd be going through in groceries, what timing to allot for, basic things that aren't very glamorous but important. And after what he'd come from, what he was experiencing before the worlds ended up shifting together, this felt like a vacation.
He needed to find a spot to work, he'd send out a few messages to the contacts he recognized, and it didn't take him long to realize that yes, there would possible be duplicates of himself. That, he could handle mentally. It was worth the chance of duplicates of certain people for duplicates of better people, so many Namis and Robins and yes. The idea of different timelines though, especially so violently different in range, didn't even vaguely occur to him.
And then he's there, small and fragile and fucking locked away. And no matter how he can internalize and deal with his own experiences, no matter how locked away he can push them into the back of his mind and heart, this makes him furious. And miserable, and how fucking dare they? It's funny, he's not even mad for himself really, but it puts everything into a burning, ripping perspective and his heart is pounding with the force of his crushing emotions.
What the hell does he even say? How can he deal with this poor kid?
He takes another deep drag off of his cigarette, and drops to one knee to get a better look at him. Is this what he looked like, to them? Did they see this kind of fear? Did they care?
No, he knows the answer to that. Fuck them, fuck his stupid once-family, and the bullshit they've put him through. Then, and now.] Hey. Don't worry about where we are right now. Let's get that off of you first. [Suddenly, words are painful. And he's almost surprised that he got them out without choking up or cursing or crying himself.]
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He needed to find a spot to work, he'd send out a few messages to the contacts he recognized, and it didn't take him long to realize that yes, there would possible be duplicates of himself. That, he could handle mentally. It was worth the chance of duplicates of certain people for duplicates of better people, so many Namis and Robins and yes. The idea of different timelines though, especially so violently different in range, didn't even vaguely occur to him.
And then he's there, small and fragile and fucking locked away. And no matter how he can internalize and deal with his own experiences, no matter how locked away he can push them into the back of his mind and heart, this makes him furious. And miserable, and how fucking dare they? It's funny, he's not even mad for himself really, but it puts everything into a burning, ripping perspective and his heart is pounding with the force of his crushing emotions.
What the hell does he even say? How can he deal with this poor kid?
He takes another deep drag off of his cigarette, and drops to one knee to get a better look at him. Is this what he looked like, to them? Did they see this kind of fear? Did they care?
No, he knows the answer to that. Fuck them, fuck his stupid once-family, and the bullshit they've put him through. Then, and now.] Hey. Don't worry about where we are right now. Let's get that off of you first. [Suddenly, words are painful. And he's almost surprised that he got them out without choking up or cursing or crying himself.]