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There are only four people in the room that is supposed to hold the meeting and every single one of them is waiting for Sengoku to arrive. No one is actually betting on other members of the Shichibukai to come, though. Fuck, it’s a miracle already than there are two of them. Moria hasn’t been showing is ugly face in a while – not than anyone there misses him – but Doflamingo has heard something about a Zombie Island. Then there is Boa Hancock, but from what he knows, she has never showed up to any of these stupid meetings since she joined. Jimbei is off until a something really fucking serious happens, which means no one hopes to see him unless it’s a global war. And Mihawk…eh, Doflamingo has been hoping to find him there, truth to be told. He’s off a lot doing fuck’s know what, but he comes by sometimes to hear the latest news.
The blonde keeps looking around, bored, searching for something to do to kill time. Near to his seat, Kuma is immersed in the reading of that stupid Bible of his. For a second, Doflamingo considers using Parasite on him, if only to see the giant losing that irritating air of apathy surrounding him. But it’s probably not worth it. It is a bit risky to anger the big guy too much…for now. Also because old Tsuru is watching the two of them and he doesn’t want her to ruin his fun. And the fourth person in the room is a boring marine under Tsuru, so not even worth his time.
It fucking sucks. He can only wait and hope for Sengoku to drag his ass there.
Not that the blonde actually care about the content of this meeting, he doesn’t even know exactly why Sengoku called it in the first place. He is there only because of boredom. His business in Dressrosa is going so well that it doesn’t even require his attention anymore…but not even Mihawk is here, so it must be one of those useless meetings.
The silence and apparent calm in the room is suddenly shattered by the door creaking open. Doflamingo turns towards it, fully expecting to find that Sengoku bastard apologizing for the delay, or maybe even Mihawk. Instead, he ends up making eye contact with neither of them.
The new guy makes his eyes slither across the room with an air of bored superiority, the same that the blonde remember seeing in his bounty’s manifest.
Sir Crocodile, with a frozen bounty of 81 million berry.
The amount per se is ridiculous if compared to his, sure. But one can never trust too much the amount written on the warrants, and if Crocodile is there surely there has to be a reason. He probably one of those who prefers to direct behind the screen, laying low. And seeing him in person, he certainly gives off that feeling. But never mind his ability, is he strong as well? Strong enough to be an adversary worth of Doflamingo’s time? Fufufu, it might be fun to see how it will go.
The dark-haired man closes the door behind him and reaches the long table in the middle of the room without so much of a hint of acknowledgment for the four people already inside nor a change in expression. He sits almost in front of Doflamingo and just keeps smoking his cigar, seemingly uninterested. But his golden eyes are cold and calculating. Like a reptile’s. Like a predator. He doesn’t do anything but it’s clear that he is keeping an eye out for Tsuru, since she is staring back, studying him with obvious disdain.
Crocodile’s huge hook seems even bigger and shinier in person too. The blond briefly wonders if the other actually uses it in battle or it is only a stage object. It certainly is quite an eye catch. The more he studies him, the more he feels interested in the older man. Maybe it’s because he’s bored. Maybe it’s because Crocodile has a fucking huge facial scar and it makes Doflamingo weirdly invested. It is a trophy of victory or a reminder of a loss? Strength or weakness?
But most importantly, why the fuck is that bastard only keeping an eye out for Tsuru when Doflamingo is right in front of his fucking face? Honestly. He does not like to be ignored. So, he starts weaving his threads, without almost moving a muscle. After all, if that man is going to die so easily then he probably does not deserve his title. It’s not like it would be Doflamingo’s fault if Sengoku is getting so old that he cannot understand that not anyone can old the Shichibukai title. But if his attack will be dodged then…then he might be able to see if Sir Crocodile could be worth his time.
It only takes a few moments before Doflamingo is clenching his fist, making all the sharp threads tightening themselves around the other’s exposed neck. But Crocodile doesn’t bat an eye, unmoving even after that split second in which he has to understand that he is in danger. The older man simply stay stills, with an almost bored expression, as the blonde’s threads cleanly separate his head from his neck. His beheaded head ends up rolling to the table, so close to Doflamingo that if he wanted he could have touched that huge ugly scar without even moving from his seat.
And yet those annoyed golden eyes keeps watching him, mockingly.
Not a single blood drop was spilled.
The only marine in the room curses behind him, startled by the suddenly dismembered body not sitting at their table. Kuma clearly doesn’t give a fuck, because he keeps reading without so much of a change of expression. Tsuru isn’t moving either, but there is a new tension growing in the air.
Doflamingo doesn’t pay any mind to it, though, and keeps watching Crocodile’s head, which stares right back at him, this time with an annoyingly sardonic grin on those thin lips. He hasn’t stopped smoking either, the bastard. Well, well. This is certainly the first time that a head he decapitated smiles at him.
But it’s also the first time that said head and dismembered corpse just crumble in a cascade of sand instead of staying right where they should.
A Rogia type, uh? Intriguing. And possibly annoying. A huge and slightly crazed grin is forming on the blonde’s lips, while he observes the little whirlpool of sand on the table, behind of which seems to be forming a human figure. He takes a few moment to focus on that, waiting for the other man to restore himself.
“You might want to do a better job than that…”, a deep, silky voice murmurs at his ear, right behind him. Doflamingo manages not to startle only by sheer determination. It seems that the whirlpool was only a distraction after all. “…if you want to kill me.”
Having Crocodile’s so close to his hear is doing unexpected things to him though. It’s not fear, of course.
But whatever it is, Doflamingo knows there is not time to examine it right now. No matter how intrigued this closeness is making him feel, Crocodile is still a huge threat in a perfectly good strategic position.
“Fufufu, kill you?”, the blond grins, without even turning his head. This fucker wears a pleasant cologne, under the smell of smoke clinging to him. “If that had been enough then I’d be the one bored to death. This? This is fun.”
Crocodile doesn’t answer him, but he chuckles at his hear, low and rumbling, before taking a few steps behind and lighting a new cigar like this is everyday occurrence. The tension in the room is now so thick that Doflamingo could probably cut it with one of his threads. Even Kuma is not reading anymore. Fuck this stupid meeting, Doflamingo really finds himself wishing that their first encounter could have been in a more…private setting. He also kind of want to try killing him a little more seriously.
There is something both really irritating and fascinating in the dark haired bastard, with those rough lineaments, that ominous scar and those reptile’s eyes.
“Donquixote…Doflamingo.”, says the brunet, slow, like he’s tasting something particularly unpalatable in his mouth. “It seems that the rumors were true.”
The blonde runs his tongue, wetting his lips. There is something in the way that Crocodile pronounces his name that is electrifying. Revitalizing, even.
“Oh yeah?”, Doflamingo muses, not even bothering to hide his excitement, meeting eye to eye the scrutiny. “And what did these rumors say?”
“That you indeed look like a shitty flamingo with that jacket.”
The older man now is grinning, openly mocking, even though there is always something detached in the way he poses himself. A cold arrogance that for some reason doesn’t even piss off Doflamingo like it would normally. It does manage to ruffle his feathers though, since it looks like even old Tsuru is having the hour of her life.
This old bastard, uh. Seems hella checky for someone whose bounty doesn’t reach the 100.000 berries.
The blonde just smiles like it isn’t getting under his skin at all, but it’s not easy to rein in the ugly mix of excitement and rage. For real. He doesn’t get picked on that often, not anymore. It isn’t easy to decide whatever Crocodile can back off all this cheekiness with strength of if it’s just arrogance. But the adrenaline running through his spine seems more inclined on the first.
“Aw, how rude of you.”, Doflamingo sighs theatrically, making himself relax on the padded chair. “Are you feeling itchy for being too far from your little pond, Croc?”
“You might be right. Maybe I’m just missing my Bananawani.”, the dark-haired captain smokes slowly, without ever taking his eyes off him. Such a pretty, dangerous eyes. “You could come visit sometimes. They do love birds for dinner.”
Fufufu, this guy sure knows how to banter. It’s not often that he gets threatened and invited out to dinner in the same sentence. And if this if how he wants to play it, then Doflamingo is not going to be the one backing down first, because the other seems turning even more attractive when his thin lips are distended in that alligator’s smile.
“Aw, are you asking me out to dinner so soon? I’m a little moved, actually, Croco-chan. Didn’t think I made such a good impression on you.”, the blond practically purrs, enjoying how Crocodile’s expression turns sours and scornful. “I might even take you up to that sooner or later.”
The brunet narrows his eyes at him, clenching oh-so-minutely his teeth on his expensive looking cigar.
Fuck, Doflamingo is discovering all sort of kinks thanks to this man.
Crocodile seems to be about to hiss something particularly venomous at him, when Sengoku interrupts their little spat by slamming the doors open and entering the room, grunting. Fucker just couldn’t wait other five minutes, uh? This was only starting to get interesting.
And it must have been for Tsuru too, because she is grinning like a proud granny, obviously having followed their interaction with attention. Tsk.
Same old nosy bitch.
She isn’t changed from the time that she used to run behind him for all the seven seas, trying to arrest him. It’s almost funny how they ended up in the same room, like allies. At least, until Doflamingo will keep finding agreeable his understanding with the World Government.
“I am not seeing blood or corpses.”, grumbles the Admiral, sitting on a nearby chair as his stupid goat bleats at his feet. He squints his eyes between him and Crocodile, suspicious. “Better than I thought. Well, the sooner we start the sooner I can have you out of my sight.”
But it’s too late, because the blonde doesn’t have the slight intention of listening to this bullshit meeting anymore, not when he can stare at the beautiful bastard now sitting just a few chair from him. It’s been a while since he is giving that much attention to someone that is not in his Family, actually. And yet, Crocodile is simply both too interesting and infuriating to ignore. He is too posed, too controlled. It makes Doflamingo want to scratch the surface, finding out why the fuck that hook, for starter. He wants to see him mad, he want to see him absolutely feral with hot, blind fury. He wants that detached mask destroyed and then he wants to keep everything under it for himself.
As the Captain and Boss of the Donquixote Family, he is constantly surrounded by people that either respect or fear him to death. As they should, of course. Even the other Shichibukai usually keep well far away from him and his affairs. But Crocodile is seemingly very much not afraid of crossing him, if nothing he seems to enjoy it a lot.
Dear Croc is probably not going to aspect how much of Doflamingo he will be seeing from now on, but it’s too late already.
Doflamingo has to admit it: he is absolutely fucking hooked.