new_world_dr | [Text]

[It's a full few days after his return to life before Rosinante manages to find his way off the island he had initially landed on. They weren't seafarers, those farmers, but he's taken some shitty dinghies on some long ocean voyages before, he can do it again. Traversing the New World without the proper tools for the job is a little different from the North Blue, even in its stormiest weather, but the little boat he's made off with holds up long enough to get him across the rough waves and unpredictable weather to a new island - one with a larger town and hopefully better opportunities.

Currently makeup-free and wearing the slightly burned red sweatshirt with incomprehensible text he had picked up in that strange alien city, he walks the cobblestone streets with tired eyes and some serious nicotine withdrawals, looking for an opportunity to fix his miserable situation.

He manages to bum a cigarette off someone finally, then takes it in hand after a puff and turns to see who he's just noticed in his peripheral vision. Boy, he looks a sorry sight next to someone that elegant.]

Um, pardon me, but do you know which island this is?

[Meanwhile, the end of his cigarette has started to light the wooden fruit stand behind him on fire.]

[Everything inside of her is screaming no, this leggy bastard is nothing she wants to associate herself with when she's already in a bad mood. He puts a bad taste in her mouth for some reason, she'll blame it on the lankiness and sheer height, she hates men looking down on her and he has no option but to without sitting on the ground. Worse, his unkempt look clashes terribly with her pretty couture and delicate features.

It'd be easy to treat him badly...

But if she decides to get back to her current scheme, she needs to keep something of a good reputation. It's going to make things a lot harder if Cobra hears she's bullying exhausted looking strangers. She's reformed, supposedly. She's supposed to be using her position to help, to keep the common man out of the grasp of cruel pirates. So she's got to at least pretend like she's a vaguely decent person now. And not a cruel pirate herself.

God, this game is frustrating. Plan B is civil war, and that's all good and fine. But it's messier and more complicated. And she'd rather keep it on the back burner for now. So she forces herself to socialize, maybe he's going to have some useful information if she chit-chats.]

The locals call it Grandeur Island 777. The name fits it. [It's a shopping and expense haven. And the locals are side-eyeing all the unwanted and poor looking newcomers.

Crocodile has been treated just fine, though. With Beri to spend, you're a god in these parts.] It's not a place I remember from my home. [She stares at the way the stand owner screeches and puts out the fire fast. He just barely saved some over priced melons from a quick roast. Then he hurls some choice insults at her odd companion, words that shouldn't be said in front of fine ladies.

She finds the whole situation stupid and hilarious.]

[All Rosinante spares the man is a glance back over his shoulder to confirm that at least the melons are in good shape still. What? Wouldn't want to harm the guy's livelihood. Content that nobody was actually hurt, he shrugs and has a long draw of that cigarette he's been so desperately craving for far too long.]

Hell of a name. But I can see that it lives up to it.

[A place like this will have undercover Marine activity and he'll have to keep an eye out. The moment they realize he's still alive - no, alive again - is the moment he becomes one of the sea's most wanted. Then again, this is the New World and the Marines don't have the grip on it that they wish they did, unless that's changed in the last thirteen years.

Not a place she remembers, though? That's sort of an odd thing to say.]

Where's home? If you don't mind me asking.

[The man silences himself quickly when he realizes that the wealthy patrons in the area are getting irritated with the noise. And just like that, Crocodile loses her source of quiet amusement.

Oh well.] It's excess on top of excess. You should see the casinos. They're obscene. [The tiny bananawani, which is wearing a red bow, leans out of the bag to angrily squeak at whoever is close by. Which includes Rosinante. She catches it before it falls out, pushes it back in with a small sound of irritation.

Nothing is going her way today. And her pet refuses to behave on top of it.] I'm currently residing in Alabasta. [She takes a long drag, and blows out a heart shaped smoke ring.] I woke up here, a long way from home. [She tilts her head, keep it up girl, be pleasant. Honey over poison and all that.] Do you know why these things are happening? Even my best sources are keeping quiet.

[Oh, the casinos probably are obscene, he doesn't doubt that. Sounds like a place worth checking out later if only to keep an eye on who does business there and who makes for frequent clients -

No. Nope. It's going to be hard to get out of that mindset. What shakes him out of it this time is the squeak from the little reptile, which he regards with a brief curious glance but nothing more. Weird pet.

She's clearly noticed that things aren't right, though. Which is nice - he'd started to think he was going crazy, on that last little island where the residents tried so hard to stick to business as usual. Still, whatever happened physically moved her all the way from Alabasta? Just picked her up and dropped her? How strange.

As if considering her question, he rubs his chin. Ugh, stubble. A razor, that's another thing he needs to find, if he can manage to figure out how to get his hands on some coin.]

Can't say I have any idea. What sort of things have been happening? I just came off the sea. Didn't seem like much was off while I was out there.

[She's absolutely going to invest in that obscenity. She needs in on the gambling scene here, she'll make another fortune with ease. These people are pathetic, obsessed with excess and wealth. She hates them, they're weak and disgusting. But they're easy prey. A fool and his money are soon parted. And Crocodile brought herself up to where she is on that saying.

She's still trying to fake polite to Rosinante. But it's hard for her. He's so rough. If he just came off of the sea, it makes sense, but in the end she really does like well groomed and handsome men. The glistening, muscular, maybe a decade younger than her type. The ones with money to blow and or skills worth having around.

But she keeps running into rough, stubbly, and often poor ones. It's a trend that she's not particularly pleased with.

He has no information. That he's being honest about, anyway. His looks are nagging at her too, his features are familiar. She swears it. She just can't put her finger on it, and it's make the whole situation more upsetting. She should just walk away now, and leave him to figure out things on his own.] Hmm.

[She takes another drag, and sighs. She's not drunk enough for any of this nonsense. Robin is far better for socializing with the common man. Or uncommon man. Either way.] The news is all wrong, the charts are off, the logs a mess. Just to name a few things. [That's to say nothing of the landmass issues, the struggle with even more dangerous animals, and robot sentinels in certain towns. It's a mess.] From what I've heard, the Marines are launching a mass investigation. They're not the only ones, though.

[If she's particularly quick, and particularly skilled at reading people, she might just catch that flicker of tension at the corner of his eyes and in the line of his mouth before he covers for the mistake by bringing his hand up swiftly to claim the cigarette again. Always an easy misdirection. People watch the hand, the obvious movement, and not the face. Still, he's tired. Letting things through when he shouldn't at all.

The Marines would certainly launch an investigation. Or they'd set a bunch of sailors out under the guise of an investigation to cover for the fact that they - that someone in the government - probably knows exactly what has happened. It's going to be tough going without access to that information anymore. Maybe he'll figure something out.

He taps ash off the end of his cigarette onto the street.]

Thought the news was funny when I got off here, but I hadn't had time to do much reading yet.

[Rosinante flicks his eyes up the street, as if making sure nobody is listening in on them talk. Really, if it was a problem he would suggest they move aside, but a woman like her probably wants nothing to do with some scruffy sailor like him, even if she's being kind enough to chat. She must be just as confused by all of it as he is.]

Sounds like you're caught up on the latest, but the latest isn't enough. Look, I could use a hand. Been on a long journey. But I'm a retired guardsman from an island in the North Blue and I know how to handle myself in a fight. Know a thing or two about handling Marines, too.

[That last part he says quietly, with a slight conspiratorial lift of his eyebrow.]

If you've got business in this place, I can help make sure you get it done, so long as you can spare some beri.

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[Text]-Private, secure

a couple days later

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[Text] private-secure

[Text] private-secure

[Text] private-secure

[Text] private-secure unless noted otherwise

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