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His skin tingles with an unfamiliar sensation and he shifts, mind becoming more alert as he takes in his surroundings and the strange, lingering warmth on his arm. If he concentrates hard enough, he can feel the fading shape of long fingers pressed into his skin.
“Go back to sleep, stupid marimo,” he hears. Sanji is standing close by, pulling on the last of his clothes and straightening his tie. His voice is low in the softness of the early morning and Zoro grunts at the words.