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"How do we know you’re the real Cook and not just some asshole trying to trick us?” Zoro blurts out, just about done with this imposter's bullshit.
Said imposter -some idiot who dropped out of the sky a couple hours ago claiming to be Sanji from the future- straightens up from where he was just serving the girls their usual afternoon drink. Zoro can admit that it's a little impressive that he knows about that routine, and what Nami and Robin's drinks of choice are, but the guy barely did any of the stupid love cook's twirling. Which was the final straw for Zoro.
"What an idiotic plan, who would ever do that? And why?" The fake cook says, stomping over to where Zoro's standing with his arms crossed in the middle of the deck.
"I should be asking you that old man"
The man wearing the cook's face sighs exasperatedly. Putting his hand on his hip and pinching his nose, and Zoro has to give it to the guy, he's real good at imitating the cooks mannerisms. Although the real cook wouldn't cock his hip quite so much. The man mutters something under his breath, shaking his head. "Fine. Fine. What do you want me to do? Why are you harassing me about this"
No beating around the bush then. Another tally in the "totally not the real cook" column, Sanji loves beating around the bush. "Prove it."
"Prove it!?" Fake-cook looks at him incredulously
"Yeah! Prove you're the cook!"
He shakes his head, clearly exasperated that Zoro won't just accept his lies like the rest of the crew.
"Fine"
The not-cook steps closer and leans over to stare right into Zoro's eyes."You don’t like chocolate or candy because it’s too sweet and you say it makes your teeth itch. You love simple meals like sea king served on a bed of white rice, no seasoning, I can barely get herbs in without you complaining. You love most types of alcohol except white wine. You started drinking your first birthday away from your dojo... it was Scotch from Johnny."
He pauses for the effect of that last fact, and it lands spectacularly on Zoro. He knows for certain that the only person he's told about his first drink was the cook. Sanji had asked somewhat sharply one day when he caught Zoro hunting for a nightcap in the kitchen. Zoro has never found it a particularly interesting story and nobody else has been as irritated by his drinking habits -or as personally invested in his diet- to think to ask. So the fact that this guy not only knows but also clearly knows that knowing that has some significance is... something.
Sanji advances as he goes on, never breaking eye contact. "You only bathe once a week if we're lucky. You don't believe in Gods but you do believe in superstitious things like that sticking chopsticks upright in food will bring bad luck and to hide your thumbs wherever you see a funeral procession so as to ward away unwelcome spirits.
Your mother's name was Terra."
Zoro, who has been backing up rapidly to escape the barrage, stumbles slightly and the pair come to a stop near the main mast. Zoro has only ever told Luffy about what he can remember of his mother but he guesses he must tell Sanji some time in the future.
And he goes on, looming over him "You pierced your ear with the money you got from your first bounty.
Your favorite colour is not as you say green like your hair or silver like your blades but blue..."
Zoro's ears get hot, as that fact is a fairly recent development, one he hasn't wrangled with himself quite yet. Sanji's lips curl into an amused smile, that cursed blue of his eyes -both eyes, from this close- twinkling, zoro wildly thinks they're laughing at him. He tilts his head "And you don't want me to say why in front of the others"
Sanji's smile turns thoughtful and his voice quiet as he says"I fear if I go on I will say a great many things you don't wish the others to hear so flippantly"
Indeed, Zoro had already forgotten where they were, that they were somewhere at all. But as Sanji steps away the bubble bursts and the noise rushes back, twice as loud as if to make up for it's absence.
Zoro is suddenly frightfully aware of the crew sitting idly around them. The closest ones with their ears tilted conspicuously closer no doubt eavesdropping like the terrible gossips they are. The red of his ears bleeds to his cheeks. The cook seems to take pity on him and turns to go, blissfully finally breaking eye contact. He absentmindedly tucks a stray piece of his long hair behind his ear as he goes. This delivers the final killing blow to Zoro because hanging there, as it must have been all day, is a familiar gold tear drop; tarnished and worn by sea salt and consistent battle.