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Doffy had them strung up in a hammock made of his devil fruit threads, and Crocodile lay draped over his chest, half enveloped in that ridiculous pink coat and fully enveloped in the mingled scents of Doffy's wine and perfume and his own cigar smoke.
Doffy reached up tugged at a lock of his dark hair. "You know if you weren't so short, I'd lay on you, Crocodile."
He sneered back and shifted his weight and tugged his head as Doffy wound his hair around his finger.
"Just because you and your family are freakish scarecrows doesn't make me short."
He couldn't deny it might be nice to be bigger than Doffy, make him easier to handle, maybe! And it wasn't as if Doffy didn't act like he was smaller than him anyway, constantly trying to get in his lap, or to get Crocodile to pick him up.
Before Doflamingo could retort, Croc's sneer turned into a long grin. "Maybe you're the one who should get shorter."
"If you've got something that'll turn me back to thirteen, I'll take it!" Doflamingo laughed.
Crocodile poked the tip of his aquiline nose. "I was thinking we could just cut off your legs."