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It’s a pleasant, warm night.
The sky is cloudless above him, inky black and filled with thousands of shimmering stars, the moonlight bright enough to see his surroundings with ease. There’s pollen stuck to the soft cloth of his trousers, the air around him thick with the heavy smell of blooming flowers.
It’s not long until he makes his way up the hillside, and soon his destination – a small, run-down cabin nestled in a shallow valley between the hills – comes fully into his view.
It’s… quiet. Peaceful, even.
Such circumstances would normally make him much more alert, ready to face the impending, lurking threat, wherever it may be. He’s learned by now that things were rarely as quiet and peaceful in his line of work.
Still, Sabo finds himself enjoying it.
For once.
He doesn’t bother to knock. He’s not an enemy.
Just as expected, the green-haired swordsman is the first one to move, stepping between the doorway and the small bed that’s tucked into the corner of the cabin, hands already flying towards the scabbard at his waist. Sabo throws a bottle of liquor his way – a momentary distraction, but also… An offering of peace, in a way.
Once he makes sure it’s understood as such, he lifts two fingers up towards his hat in a greeting. No one else seems willing to fight him for now, but the surprised looks being sent his way don’t seem too friendly either.
He doesn’t even get to introduce himself.
Nico Robin does it for him.
*
The moment Luffy’s friends realize Sabo is the other brother, all of the tension is gone. In a blink of an eye, they all come to regard him as a friend too, and soon – they’re back to doing their own thing, treating him like an integral part of the crew, as if he wasn’t a complete stranger mere moments ago.
Robin’s curious about Sabo’s plans after leaving Dressrosa and he fills her in, as much as he’s able to without revealing the confidential details. His mind is elsewhere though, and she’s quick to notice. Her gaze flicks between him and his brother’s sleeping form.
She offers to wake Luffy up for him, but he refuses politely.
Luffy has been through a lot and needs all the rest he can manage for his body to heal as fast as possible. Sabo won’t take it away from him – he’s happy just being near, seeing him up close for the first time in years.
He tells Robin just that.
There’s a knowing, sort of soft look in her eyes. She nods in acknowledgement, then promptly turns away from him, her kind attention swallowed by the hulking cyborg sitting beside her.
It’s not long until some of Luffy’s companions return to their quiet, hushed conversations, others busy themselves with whatever they were doing before Sabo’s arrival – resting, for the most part. It’s obvious that they want to give him space, as much as the cramped cabin allows it, and Sabo can be nothing but thankful for it.
Only the swordsman’s gaze remains glued to Sabo’s back, from where the green-haired man is sitting tucked into the opposite wall of the cabin. The line of his shoulders is relaxed though, and the swords are on the floor beside him – at arm’s length, still sheathed.
His expression remains cautious, but not threatening.
Sabo lets him watch. He’s got nothing to hide and wants to appear as such. He has already risked his life just to ensure Luffy’s safety once before, and he’d be ready to do it again. He can imagine why Luffy’s friends might remain distrustful of him, though. He, more than anyone, understands that well.
You can never be too careful when Luffy’s wellbeing is at stake.
Sabo can only be grateful that his brother’s crew has watched over their captain in times when he couldn’t, and that they will continue to do so.
He takes off his hat and googles, places them gingerly onto the bed beside Luffy’s sleeping form, then slides down until his knees hit the weathered, wooden floor. He supports his upper body with an elbow placed on the mattress, then lets his head rest in his palm, his only working eye focusing on nothing but his brother’s resting face.
Luffy’s still asleep and Sabo doesn’t want to risk disturbing him. Looking is the most he can allow himself – there isn’t a lot of time left before sunrise, and soon he’ll have to leave again.
He didn’t quite manage to get a clear view of him in the Colosseum, as Luffy’s features were obscured by the helmet and the faux mustache. It was the scar below Luffy’s left eye that caught his attention, and made him realize that the gladiator sweeping every single one of his opponents off their feet with ease was, in fact, his crybaby little brother.
Luffy has been… a constant in his mind, lately. Ace, too – for the record. From the moment Sabo has regained his memories, when he wasn’t occupied with work the majority of his time has been spent thinking about his brothers.
Dealing with the guilt and the self-hatred came in pair with that. Processing over and over again that he couldn’t, wasn’t there for them, when they needed him the most.
Wondering if Luffy would ever forgive him for it.
If he’d still consider him his brother.
The last time he saw Luffy in person prior Dressrosa was when he was still a chubby-faced toddler, with baby fat still lining his limbs and middle.
There’s very little left of that now. Luffy’s no longer a child. He’s a grown man, now. Still young, yes – younger than Sabo, but he’s grown so much that Sabo has a hard time connecting the memory in his mind to the current image of his brother sleeping in front of him.
Sabo has always knew Luffy would end up growing up just as strong as he and Ace, perhaps even stronger. But knowing and seeing the physical proof of how far Luffy has come are two entirely separate things. All that remains of his kid brother is the same round shape of his eyes (just like Sabo’s), the dark, unruly strands of his hair that curled just the tiny bit at the ends (just like Ace’s), and the thin, self-inflicted scar on his cheek.
Sabo’s scleras feel prickly and too-dry all of the sudden.
He can’t seem to force himself to blink, though. It feels like a waste of time, like he never wants to take his eyes off Luffy, until he memorizes his brother’s features with enough detail that the image of him remains in Sabo’s memory for the rest of his life, wherever he goes.
Sabo does just that. Tries to – at least.
Luffy’s limbs have grown lanky and long. The baby fat is long gone, with the last, sparse remains of it padding Luffy’s face, softening the angle of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones. The rest of his body is lined with lean muscle, that even at rest, speaks of the agility and strength that his brother possesses. His tanned skin is marred with a lot more scars than Sabo remembers, every single one a visible proof of all the battles he has fought and won.
And yet, the biggest one that marks the center of his chest… is a reminder of the most heartbreaking loss that's ever been inflicted upon him.
Sabo can’t really see the scar in its entirety, only the jagged, discolored top part of it, where it peeks out from under the bandages that cover Luffy’s body – the aftermath of his recent battle with Doflamingo.
Some of the memories from his childhood still remain somewhat blurry, but one of the things Sabo remembers clear as a day is his baby brother, beaten and bruised, face streaked with blood and tears, screaming out with full conviction that being lonely felt worse that being hurt.
He can’t even begin to imagine the amount of suffering that Luffy went through during and after the Summit War.
Sabo swallows with effort, feeling as his throat closes up and his vision blurs. His chest feels tight, heart thumping frantically against his sternum, and for a second he feels like he did that fateful day he chose to set sail on his own – like his skin is burning, bubbling and peeling off, like his lungs flood with seawater and he’s seconds away from drowning.
He can’t help it.
The sheer thought that Luffy had to endure it all alone simply feels excruciating, unlike any other physical pain Sabo’s ever experienced. Even after two years his brain hasn’t learned how to process it – not knowing how to deal with the overwhelming stress that it has been put under, it seems to recall every single prior instance of paralyzing distress, until it forms a feedback loop, trapping him in an endless cycle of emotional suffering and self-hatred.
Usually it’s Koala that helps him snap out of it. With a sharp backhand across his face, most often. Pain and other strong, physical stimuli have proved a decent distraction in the past.
Sabo desperately tries to force his body back under his own control, without drawing more attention to himself.
Almost as if on their own accord, his fingers tense like they’re claws. One hand clutches the thin, linen bedding until it squeaks in his grip. The blunt fingernails of the other one dig into the burn mark that covers the left side of his face until his fogged-up mind registers the sting and he’s able to focus on it – instead of allowing himself to lose himself any further.
Luffy’s sleeping form in front of him becomes a blur of shapes and colors, so he shuts his eyes tightly, trying to deprive himself of things that might overwhelm him further. Except the darkness of his closed eyelids doesn’t really help, and instead he ends up feeling like he’s underwater all over again, the pressure against his chest increasing tenfold.
And then –
A cloth-wrapped hand touches Sabo’s hair.
It’s soft and careful, almost featherlight. The warmth that emanates from it feels like the first, delicate rays of sunlight after days of rain.
Sabo latches onto the feeling like it’s a lifeline.
When his sight returns, he’s met with Luffy’s wide, dark eyes blinking up sleepily at him. His brother’s expression still seems somewhat confused and sleep-dazed, but as the seconds pass recognition flares up in them, and they become much more clear and alert.
Even still, his gaze oh so incredibly gentle, that Sabo feels his vision become blurry once more, eyes stinging with the unshed tears that he desperately wills not to spill. He tries to stay as still as he possibly can, too terrified to move lest he startles or scares Luffy away.
The familiar sensation of bitter guilt stirs inside him. He was supposed to just look at his brother for a while and leave, not allow his utter lack of self-control to disturb him.
Luffy runs his fingers through Sabo’s messy curls, then lets his hand drop lower – until his fingertips barely graze Sabo’s face, just underneath his seeing eye.
“Sorry,” Luffy breathes, “just checking if you’re real. Thought I was dreaming again.”
He touches his hair once more, a bit more intently. Worms his fingers underneath Sabo’s, forces them to ease up a little then pries them away so they’re not clenched against his scalp any longer.
It takes Sabo a moment to will his voice cords into submission.
“Do you– have dreams. Of me,” he stutters in a reply, voice quiet and rough, not coming out quite right through his painfully tight throat. Still, he can’t help but tilt his head into Luffy’s hand, let him pet and stroke his curls like he’d do to a dog, and Sabo just can’t get enough.
“Yeah,” Luffy answers simply, “about Ace, mostly. You’re there too, sometimes. You’ve got shorter hair, though. And you don’t have… The…,”
Sabo bows his head instinctively, lets the fringe cover the left half of his face. He shouldn’t feel self-conscious, it’s just Luffy, but it’s also – his brother, Luffy, and just like that he’s unable to subdue the self-disgust that rises up like bile in his throat.
Luffy makes a quiet, displeased sound, that almost sounds chastising. He gently brushes Sabo’s hair away, then swipes the curly strands behind his ear, just so he gets a clear view on the burnt part of his face. His fingers are soft and careful when he traces the uneven, discolored skin.
When Sabo musters enough courage to eventually look up, there’s a bright smile stretching his brother’s mouth and creasing the corners of his eyes.
Sabo feels his eyes water, like he’s suddenly looking directly into the sun.
“We match, now,” Luffy announces, and when Sabo gives him a confused look – points a finger towards the scarred stitch marks under his left eye.
“Yours is way cooler, though.”
Sabo swallows, unable not to smile back, however pathetic it might look in his current, absolutely sorry state.
“I’m sorry I haven’t… been around,” he admits, sorrow clearly audible in his rough voice. It hurts to say it out loud just as much as it did everytime he thought about it before.
“But you’re here now, aren’t you,” Luffy says right back, as if it’s that easy, “and that’s so much better than you being dead for years.”
“Luffy, I…–,” Sabo sighs wetly, rubs the heel of his hand against his eyes, “you know it’s not. It’s not enough. I could’ve– been there, with you, watched you grow, set sail with you… Both of you. If only I remembered sooner, I could’ve helped you get Ace out, helped you fight, protected you–,”
“To be honest, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t matter if you came to Marineford,” Luffy says thoughtfully, and Sabo’s eyes shoot up at him, alarmed. “If you showed up there out of nowhere, Ace would probably end up getting a heart attack and dying anyways, so.”
There’s a playful little smile on his lips, and Sabo can’t help but laugh. It’s a rough, wet sound, but it’s still a laugh and for the first time in years, he suddenly feels at home.
“Sabo, it doesn’t matter,” Luffy assures him.
He disentangles his hand from among the blonde curls, then lowers it down to weave his fingers between Sabo’s, where they’re still clutching the thin, linen bedsheet with such force that his knuckles have turned white.
“Even if you lost your memories permanently but lived, that would still be worth it. I’ve lost you once before. With Ace gone… You don’t even realize. How much it means to me that you’re alive.”
Sabo feels the hot tears trickle down his cheeks, and this time he doesn’t have the strength to fight them. A long time ago, in times that now seem so far away as if they happened in a different lifetime altogether, he might’ve been the kind brother, the smart and reasonable one, but Luffy’s– Luffy’s the merciful one, the forgiving one, the one who loves deeply and unconditionally and without regrets.
Sabo’s just doesn’t feel worthy to be given all of that.
It’s fitting, somehow – that he’s kneeling on the floor beside Luffy, head bowed like he’s praying, clutching his brother’s hand like it belongs to a saint, because Luffy might just be that: someone too holy, too precious to be defiled with the presence of a mere mortal.
Luffy tugs at his hand, prompts Sabo to look up and meet his gaze.
“You’ve got his fruit though, haven’t you?” Luffy asks, eyes shining curiously.
Sabo nods weakly.
“Can you… show me?”
Luffy loosens his hold on Sabo’s fingers, and though Sabo knows its temporary – he already begins to miss the softness of his brother’s touch. He scoots a little closer towards the bed, sits up a bit more straight. After a moment of hesitation, he removes his gloves as well, places them beside his hat, then lifts his hand up.
It’s – trembling, just like the rest of him, and Sabo tries to calm himself down enough to reach deep inside himself and awaken Ace’s fruit. He inhales deeply, holds the air in for a heartbeat, then summons the flames on the exhale, watching as they envelop him from the wrist up, flickering at his fingertips.
He’s well aware of the absolute destruction that the same fire he’s holding has wrought before, wielded by its previous user.
And yet, his bare skin doesn’t burn. The bedding doesn’t catch fire.
The flames that lick at his fingers are warm like a body is warm, providing enough light to cast their faces in a comforting glow in the otherwise dark cabin.
Sabo can see their flickering reflection in Luffy’s wide, unblinking eyes, and when his brother reaches out to slowly, carefully sink his fingers into them, he doesn’t even try to stop him. He holds his breath instead, stilling his hand as much as he’s able to.
There’s something akin to mirth written across Luffy’s soft features. The flames engulf his hand just as they did with Sabo’s, but Luffy doesn’t even flinch. There’s a thin, glistening sheen visible in his eyes.
Sabo’s can feel his heart break when he notices his brother’s lower lip tremble helplessly.
Luffy turns out to be, once again, the stronger among the two of them. He doesn’t allow himself to cry – he grits his teeth, pulls his features into a determined frown, valiantly tries to put on a brave face.
Sabo can easily see how fragile it is, though. Something swells painfully inside his chests, throat seizing with emotion at the sight of it until he struggles to swallow around it.
Luffy interlaces their fingers once more, then presses their joined, ablaze hands against his own, bandaged chest, right where the edge of his star-shaped scar remains visible. His eyes fall half-closed, his expression softening. Under his palm, Sabo can easily feel how his brother’s heart beats just beneath his sternum: steady, strong, and truly, unmistakably alive.
Nothing, no one in the entire world will ever be enough to fill the hole in Luffy’s chest where Ace should be. Not even Sabo – and he’s painfully aware of that. He will always be the other brother, his existence nothing but a faulty, makeshift copy of what Ace once was. There’s nothing he can or ever will be able to do to fill the empty place beside Luffy.
Owning Ace’s devil fruit hasn’t changed anything in the slightest.
Their childhood promise of shared brotherhood may still bond them, but Sabo suddenly feels unworthy calling himself Luffy’s brother, even in his thoughts.
Brothers should look after each other, always. A long, long time ago, the three of them promised each other they’d protect each other and stay together until the end. He should’ve been there, for them. Not only in Marineford, but during their entire childhood and adolescence, up until their early, blossoming adulthood.
And yet, Sabo…
He should’ve been the one to die. Or stay dead, maybe. Given the opportunity, he would have traded places with Ace in an instant – if only it meant Ace was the one to stay with Luffy instead of him.
Ace should’ve been the one to witness Luffy accomplish his dream.
Not – him…
The flame in his palm dies down until it’s no larger than a spark, before snuffing out entirely.
Sabo sniffs wetly, bringing his other hand up to his face to rub at his eyes with the back of it, trying in vain to wipe off the salty wetness that seems permanently stuck there. His shoulders tremble a little, and before he can control himself, his entire body begins to shake as well, wrecked through by half-muffled, dry sobs.
He can’t even bring himself to look Luffy in the eyes anymore.
For some miraculous reason, despite Sabo falling apart in front of him, Luffy doesn’t let go of his hand, keeping it pressed tightly against his chest. He reaches out, wraps his other arm around Sabo’s shaking shoulders, then pulls him in – steadily, deliberately, until Sabo eventually relents and, despite the overwhelming guilt and self-depreciation that fills him to the very core, allows himself to fall forward into Luffy’s embrace.
He throws his arm around Luffy’s waist, lets his upper body fall limply onto Luffy’s lap, pushes his face into his bandaged stomach until he can barely breathe against it.
It’s too much. Too much has happened in such a short time, and Sabo’s barely able to make peace with it at all. He doubts he ever will.
“Thank you for loving me,” Luffy says suddenly, barely louder than a whisper.
He releases Sabo’s hand in favor of draping both of his arms around Sabo’s shoulders and leaning over him: with his head bowed, his cheek resting on top of Sabo’s head, his warm, slender, alive body covering Sabo like a blanket.
Sabo’s frame continues to shake as more violent sobs roll through him, and Luffy just. Holds him close through it all, his embrace just as sure and unwavering as the slow, steady thumping of his heartbeat.
After a while, when he speaks again, his voice is low and soothing, so unlike his usual high-pitched, excited tone.
“That’s what he told me, you know? That’s what he asked me to pass on,” Luffy says, lets his fingers trace meaningless, gentle patterns up and down Sabo’s back, “to you, had he known you were alive. He loved you, too. I’ve got no doubt about that, and you should never doubt it either.”
He lets out a soft, quiet sigh, like the memory of Ace’s last words brought him solace, somehow.
“He loved you. So, so much, despite believing we truly lost you, then.”
Sabo presses himself closer into Luffy’s body – knows he shouldn’t, Luffy’s hurt, but Luffy doesn’t make even the slightest sound of protest, instead tightening his own arms around Sabo’s shoulders in return. He’s got nothing but patience for Sabo, providing him with endless comfort and quiet reassurance until Sabo’s sobs have quieted down and his tears seem to have run dry.
“When… Only the two of us remained. He kept– using you. As a tool, to knock some sense into me,” Luffy admits then, and there’s a faint hint of a fond smile audible in his voice, “Sabo would think it’s disgusting to eat raw fish. Sabo would kick your ass if you picked your nose near him. Sabo would never let you hug him if you bathed once a week.”
Luffy’s impression of teenage Ace’s voice is strangely on point, and Sabo can’t help but share the fond smile, despite the tears that drip freely down his cheeks.
“Did it work,” he mumbles between hiccups, and feels Luffy huff out an amused breath above him.
“Of course not,” his brother replies easily, “you’re hugging me right now.”
There’s a small pause before Sabo is able to understand what Luffy means, and then both of them start laughing – like they are kids again, like they aren’t weighed down by the burden of grief and loss, hanging heavy on their shoulders.
Sabo sniffles, and it’s such a moist, pathetic sound. Luffy did cry because of him too, back in the Colosseum, but Luffy’s always been the crybaby between the three of them.
Unlike Sabo.
“Ah, I need– need to get myself together,” he says, attempting to lean back slightly, straighten his back a little as it’s slowly beginning to hurt, after being hunched over uncomfortably for a while now. The moment he feels Sabo move back, Luffy immediately loosens his hold around him, and Sabo desperately tries not to miss the warmth that his brother’s slender arms provide.
“Ace would probably laugh at me for crying so much.”
Luffy blinks down at him, strangely somber all of the sudden.
“He cried after you, too,” he says, like it’s an afterthought, and Sabo’s heart aches anew, “when he thought I was asleep. He fished out your jolly roger, you know? It was half-burnt, the paint almost entirely dissolved in the seawater – he repainted it himself, then kept it under his pillow. Alongside that letter you left him. Though I’m pretty sure it became unreadable at some point, ‘cause he kept crying so much over it the ink got all smudgy. I suppose he knew the contents by heart anyway – after all the times he’s read it.”
A small, stubborn pout appears on his face, and for a moment, he looks just like the chubby-faced, six year old Luffy from Sabo’s memories.
“He never read it to me though,” he complains petulantly, “I couldn’t even look at it, because he’d get all fussy. Which was unfair, because you are my brother too.”
Sabo swallows with effort, feeling as another strong wave of emotion threatened to wash through him and make him start crying again. And here he was – worried that Luffy, Luffy, would ever feel reluctant about calling him his brother.
He catches Luffy’s gaze, sees the sudden, curious glint in his eyes.
“What did you even write him?” Luffy inquiries lightly. “Did you tell him you actually thought he was a huge wimp and you’d kick his ass the moment you two met out at the sea one day?”
He makes a soft, thoughtful sound. “That would kinda explain all the crying.”
Sabo shakes his head, wipes the tears from his eyes with the edge of his sleeve before they spill yet again. “N-no, it wasn’t actually all that special,” he manages out.
It was. Everything that Ace was to him, everything that he made Sabo feel, as much as his adolescent heart was able to understand of it – poured out and sealed by ink. From the moment he met Ace for the first time at the edge of the Gray Terminal, until the day Sabo decided he’d rather put his own happiness and safety at stake, than endanger the lives of his brothers.
The cups of sake they exchanged were a promise that he and Ace gave to Luffy.
The letter, however – was his own promise, meant for Ace only. Of course, it included Luffy as well, the integral part of their lives that he was, but Sabo doesn’t feel like going through all of that again. He has a feeling Luffy subconsciously suspected what it said, anyway.
“I just explained what I was going to do and asked Ace to take good care of you in my absence,” Sabo explains, as steadily as he’s able to, hoping that the emotion in his voice doesn’t betray him.
“Well, just so you know then,” Luffy tells him, “he actually did listen to you. Didn’t hit me as much afterwards, sometimes shared his food with me. He even let me sleep with him a couple of times, whenever it got cold out!”
Sabo's pretty sure his letter had little to do with Ace changing his approach towards Luffy. It might’ve perhaps instilled certain notions in him, but the way Ace allowed their bond to tighten and shape him into person he became in his adulthood? Kind and compassionate, finally with a purpose to his life – so unlike the Ace that Sabo remembers.
That’s entirely on Luffy.
Sabo smiles softly at him, feeling as the warmth of affection spreads through his body and melts with the everburning warmth of Ace’s devil fruit inside him. His knees ache from all the time he’s spent kneeling on the hardwood floor, but still – he takes Luffy’s hand in between his own, then brings it up to cradle it against his chest.
Whatever doubts have plagued him earlier seem to have shriveled away, reduced to husks in the overwhelming, merciful light that his brother seem to emanate.
“I’ll share food with you, from now on,” Sabo pledges with reverence, “I promise not to hit you, unless you’re the one to start it. I’ll watch over you, protect you, to the best of my ability, and…,”
He pauses to take a breath, reaches deep within himself only to find nothing but reassuring, gentle warmth. “I’ll keep you warm, if you ever need it – I have Ace’s fruit to help me with that.”
And though it shouldn’t be anything special, just a promise to continue to look after their little brother in Ace’s absence, it almost feels like something else…
Something much more profound.
A promise to carry Ace’s legacy in all the ways he possibly can, with all the pride and recognition it deserves.
Luffy giggles, delighted, then leans in to butt their heads together softly, like an overly affectionate kitten. “I always thought you were the nicer brother.”
They spend the rest of the night quietly joking and laughing together, as if the twelve years they’ve spent apart didn’t happen at all.
The night ends eventually, giving way to merciless dawn.
Sabo sighs, pushes himself up from the floor, stands up shakily onto his stiff, achy legs that have been folded under him for way, way too long.
He collects his coat and his tophat, then gets dressed in silence. Soon there’s no trace left of the ten-year-old boy he’s allowed himself to become for the night, and the Revolutionary Army’s Chief Of Staff stands in his place instead.
“I’ll see you soon, Luffy,” he says, expression turning soft again in the mellow light, as he leans in to place a quick kiss to the top of his brother’s head.
Luffy’s eyes fall closed and he leans into the touch immediately, like a sunflower tilting itself towards the warmth of the sun.
When he opens them again, Sabo’s already by the door.
“Don’t promise,” Luffy tells him, “just come see me again.”
Sabo gives him a small smile in return, puts on his hat and lifts two fingers towards the brim of it, his gloved fingertips catching on fire briefly.
There’s still one more thing he has to do, though.
Sabo reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, slides out a rectangular piece of paper – Luffy’s vivre card. He methodically tears one of its corners off, then pockets it with care so it lays flat, pressed close against his heart. He turns to face Luffy’s green-haired first mate then and hands the rest of it to him.
With that out of the way, he moves towards the exit – stopping only to briefly tip his hat towards his brother’s crew.
“Luffy might be a bit much to handle at times, but please do take good care of him for me.”
Sabo turns to leave, but before he manages to step outside – he can’t help but notice the surprised, yet absolutely knowing looks that the Strawhats exchange among themselves.
Just as he’s about to close the door after himself, he hears:
“Oh, wow. He said the exact same thing as Ace.”