Work Text:
The moon hung high in the star-splotched sky, the waves choppy and merciless against the hull of the Red Force. And yet, it felt like nothing at all, merely a small bump if anything. Raucous laughter bounced around weathered planks, shooting into the salted air and emanating an energy that served as proof of camaraderie. There was the unceremonious spilling of precious ale, both on-deck and overboard, as the Red-Hair Pirates basked in the success of another voyage.
Most of the crew was gathered, partaking in some kind of inane drinking contest that they always had to have. Despite being at the front of it all, the captain felt miles away. The glimmer of treasure was nice, a temporary satisfaction if anything, but it didn’t quite serve to quell the unnatural ache in his heart. He was known to be sharp as a tack, with a quick wit and unshakable confidence. How could he be reduced to this more subdued, washed up version of himself? He himself couldn’t put his finger on it, it just felt… empty. Empty didn’t suit him. Emptiness didn’t seem compatible with ‘Red-Haired Shanks.’
Shanks was snapped from his trance by a rough shove, as customary for a group as unruly as his, but he only laughed in response. “Hey, watch it!” He called, adjusting the straw hat nestled on his head. He turned his gaze towards two of his most trusted officers, Yasopp and Roux, who looked about two seconds away from bursting into laughter.
“Alright, might as well spit it out. You two got the worst poker faces.” Remarked Beckman, who took a drag off his cigarette. Just beneath his cool-headed facade was a hint of a smirk, as though he had a clue of what the other two found so funny. Yasopp offered a half-hearted shrug, his grin poorly hidden by a look of indifference.
“No idea what you’re referrin’ to, Beck,” he fired back coolly, glancing at Shanks. It didn’t take long for his amusement to come back, this time full-throttle. “‘S just not every day you see our captain lookin’ like a lovesick kid.” A collective snort broke out amongst some of the other officers, who tried their best—and miserably failed—to mind their own business.
“Yeah, much less with one of our usual barmaids, eh?” Roux chimed in, having paused from his swig of a barrel’s worth in booze. “He’s busy dreamin’ ‘bout a lady who wouldn’t think twice ‘bout slamming someone’s face into the bar!” He gestures vaguely to the now awestruck captain.
Shanks hadn’t even thought about it until now. He knew they used Windmill Village as a base of sorts—hell, that’s where they were on their way to as it stood. However, in all his time there, he hadn’t considered either bartender at their usual partying grounds more than a friend. Makino was a no-brainer; she was just a kid, after all, a passive friend at most. The other one, Nerine… he swore he could feel his cheeks growing warmer at the thought of her. A woman he felt he could only handle like glass, not because she was fragile, but more because he feared she was far beyond what he could offer.
Because, really, what could one lone man do to prove to the sun that he was worthy of basking beneath its rays? How could he alone ever prove his worth to a treasure far beyond his reach? She deserved so much more than to be plundered like gold. Nerine deserved only the purest of love, the most gentle of caresses given by any hands but his rough-hewn ones. Lingering stares and shared drinks only did so much, after all. Only in his letters, which had ended up paper balls tossed haphazardly by the nearest trashcan in his cabin, did he ever dream to express the depths of his feelings.
Even as he stood with his crew, the ones not puking over the side laughing at his expense, he could only imagine what it’d be like if she were there. She’d look his way, her eyes beaming for a brief second, those cute dimples he always wanted to trace, a smile so easy it almost hurt him knowing how purely happy she was. The way she’d put the moon to shame, maybe even the sea herself… to think, there’d be a woman coming close to surpassing his first love. Surpassing the very thing he lived by, the thing that kept the fire in his soul and the life in his eyes.
Shanks puffed out a breath he had no idea he’d been holding, grabbing a heftier mug with a shake of his head. “It’s not like that,” he corrected, although he’s unsure about the waver in his voice. “Neri’s just a friend. Always has been. Besides, ‘m not so sure how she’d handle… y’know…” He trailed off, waving one hand idly. It did nothing to soften the blow of the crew’s heckling—if anything, it just made it worse. Just as he thought it couldn’t get louder, the laughter reached a crescendo.
He knew they were just messing with him, that it was as lighthearted as ever. It was in their nature as a crew, after all. Maybe it was the fact this wound was just a fraction of the bit deeper, a cut that mere alcohol and good fortune wouldn’t heal this time. For once in his life, Red-Haired Shanks felt nauseous in a way that wasn’t rooted in a hangover. And, just for that, he’d drink himself stupid tonight. Consequences be damned, if it at least muddied the image of her face, then he’d do it in a heartbeat.
The waves lapped gently at the sand, the shore rising just an inch or so with every tumble before crawling its way back. A stray gull cried, a rarity among its kind, as Nerine sat on a terrycloth blanket. She watched the sea for a long moment, squinting her eyes once or twice to envision the only sight she’d hoped for. All she wanted at this moment, as crazy as it could’ve sounded, was to see it… see him.
“Mommy!”
She turned her head, the wind whipping errant strands of hair over her eyes. Running right to her was her daughter Brinley, who was only about seven. She smiled softly, reaching one arm to catch the little girl as she stumbled onto the blanket. Nerine craned her head, inspecting her daughter’s clasped hands. “What do we have for tonight, pumpkin?” She asked gently, swiftly placing Brinley into her lap.
Brinley giggled, opening her hands to reveal a plethora of seashells—many cross barred venuses, a few scallops, even some whelks. Brinley held up one of the venuses, a pearly shell with a hole right at the top; the perfect bracelet-making tool made by nature itself. “I found a lot of shells for bracelets! Can we make some, can we pleaaaase?” She bounced in her mother’s lap, the shells clinking around the cage of her fingers and her excitement infectious as ever.
Nerine’s smile not once wavered, even as she stilled her daughter and gently took the shells from her. “I’m sure we can,” she assured, reaching into her pocket to pull out two loose pieces of string. She gasped, her eyes widening as she regarded the girl with feigned surprise. “And would you look at that, I have string for the both of us! I guess we really can make bracelets.” Her eyes crinkled at Brinley’s excited cheer, and she repositions them to sit parallel to one another.
Brinley unravels her shirt at its hem, revealing an obscene amount of shells she’d caught on the way. She reached down, picking up a particularly dazzling one: a spirally red shell with spots of white dotted around it. “Mommy, look, it’s a strawberry shell!” She pointed at the shell before eagerly shoving it into her mother’s face, as though expecting her to get a closer look. Nerine just laughed and plucked it from her fingers.
As she inspected the shell, she pursed her lips. “Hmm… I dunno, Brin. This might not work for any jewelry. No holes, plus it’s a bit heavy… see?” As she spoke, she placed the shell back into the downy palm of her daughter’s hand. Brinley flopped down, crossing her legs as she spun the shell in her hands.
She copied Nerine’s exact expression, if only for a moment, before nodding. “Okay…” She mumbled. She perked up as she took in the red hue, and she couldn’t help but giggle all over again. “It’s really red… it’s like Mr. Shanks!”
Nerine paused, not having considered such a comparison until now. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, giving herself a moment to pause and digest her daughter’s words. Upon further inspection… she supposed it did, in a way. It at least looked like something Shanks would give her, that much was certain. He always tried to bring back fresh strawberries from whatever back-water island he went to. The thought was enough for the tips of her ears to flare, and she leaned back with her eyes on the pitch black sky as a means of distracting herself.
“I guess it does,” she said, even as she desperately tried to focus on anything else. Anything but the pounding in her chest, the flutter in her stomach at the notion of him. Brinley, for all her innocence, tilted her head at her mother’s change in demeanor. The curiosity dissipates just as quickly as it appeared, and she can’t help but beam.
“Is he gonna be back soon?” She stared up at Nerine, as though anticipating her to have an answer. Nerine knew better, though—there was no telling when Shanks would come back. It could be a day, it could be a week… he never strayed longer than a few weeks, at least. Then again, he promised Brinley he’d be back tomorrow. At least that’s what he said over call, and he was always adamant in his promises to Brinley specifically. His softness towards her never went unnoticed by Nerine, anyway.
She turned towards her daughter and smiled, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, and she raised a brow. “He said tomorrow, didn’t he?” She teased.
Brinley gasped, realization dawning on her. That was right, he should’ve been coming back tomorrow! The calendar never lied; Brinley knew that for a fact. However, as she squealed and bounced to her feet, Nerine reached out to steady her. “Easy, sweetie. You don’t wanna waste all your energy before Mr. Shanks comes back, do you? It’d be a shame if you missed him by sleeping.”
That alone was enough to calm the girl’s excitement, bringing her right back down to Earth. She puffed out her chest, pointing at herself with all the pride she could muster. “I won’t get sleepy!” She argued, which only served to make her mother laugh. For all the hardships surrounding her life with her daughter, Nerine knew she wouldn’t trade Brinley for the world. This, to her, was the best thing her life could’ve offered her… in some respects, anyway. It didn’t exactly make anything any less grim, any less raw for her.
Even so, she gathered the girl in her arms and hugged her tight, grinning at the sound of Brinley’s delighted shriek. “I’m sure you won’t. We’ll cross the Mr. Shanks bridge when we get there, okay? Let’s get started on these bracelets in the meantime.” Seeing as Brinley never had to be asked twice when it came to making jewelry, Nerine found it pretty easy to corral her. She sat with her legs crossed, Brinley in her lap as the two tended to their bracelets.
Despite the mixture of emotions swimming about her body and mind in tandem, a combination of anticipation and trepidation, she knew it’d go the same as it always did: Shanks would come back, probably play with Brinley and Luffy for a bit, give her some kind of gift… all mixed with the usual banter and sideways looks. Part of her dreaded their meeting again, the way it’d be so easy to just break the barrier of their friendship, even with the knowledge she couldn’t. She figured the pill was just too hard to swallow.
For now, she just had to internalize her own advice: she’d cross that bridge when she’d get there. She had no energy to deal with her complicated feelings for Shanks. All that mattered in the moment was being present, being with her daughter. That was the gentlest respite she could offer herself in the tumultuous tempest of her life.
The sun made its peaceful ascent into the sorbet sky, with peeks of its luminous rays filtering through the blinds of Nerine’s room. Tufts of her hair splayed across the pillow, her face buried in the fabric and arm slung over her side. The night before was no more than a blur to her now, even if it was spent in total peace with Brinley. It all became a jumbled mess, just as every other event in her life did.
Her dreams felt so specific, almost like a premonition despite the initially nonsensical nature. Some dipped into territories charted only by her worst of night terrors, some with visions of a past long unobtainable… and yet, at the forefront of even the most surreal and scariest of dreams lay the man haunting her every waking thought. A source of her protection, her solace in a world she’d known only to be unjust. She found, engulfed in his arms, she had felt even a streak of peace. It was the only time she felt a reliance on someone, a more selfish act that she hadn’t dared dream of years ago. For Shanks, maybe she could afford to be a little selfish.
She felt a light pressure on her side, a hurried shaking from unmistakably small hands. Her eyes fluttered open, and she glanced down to be met with the sight of Brinley. As she slowly sat up in bed, sheets pooled around her hips, Brinley rushed about her bedroom. “Mommy, wake up! Mr. Shanks is coming back!” She cried, having already haphazardly dressed herself. Nerine furrowed her brows, adjusting her vision to really take in the sight of her daughter. One of the straps on her overalls dangled off her shoulders, her shirt was rumpled, and her hair wasn’t even brushed out.
Nerine sighed, pushing her bangs back with the flat of her palm before stumbling out of bed. She guided Brinley by her upper back towards the bathroom, if only to sort out her look. “Mm, right…” She muttered under her breath as she guided Brinley to sit down on the nearby stepstool. She took her time to really get her daughter ‘ready,’ although there wasn’t much to get ready for to begin with, and exhaled through her nose as Brinley bounded out before she could even offer breakfast.
She knew she couldn’t be too upset—she knew Brinley absolutely adored Shanks, Nerine couldn’t fault her for wanting to see him. She supposed it was just how early it was… barely 6:00AM. Then again, she awoke her own father much earlier for completely arbitrary reasons. It was just a natural instinct in children, maybe.
With another fruitless attempt at rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Nerine was rather languid in how she dressed herself. Nothing too extravagant was of note, not when she wore the same thing she usually did: strapless red top, brown corduroy shorts, and her tried and true sandals. She was sure she wasn’t as interesting as any person that might’ve caught Shanks’ eye, assuming anyone could do that to begin with. The sea was always his first love, as he’d so proudly declare often in his typical drunken stupors. Maybe it was better he kept it that way for the sake of sparing her inconsiderate feelings.
She knew there was no point in trailing behind Brinley, who was making a trek so confident that it looked like she hardly noticed the sand uncomfortably pooling beneath her feet. She had to open up the bar anyway—she had just about the right amount of watchful distance to see her daughter from the port. Brinley already looked glued to the docks as it stood. She took her time in opening the bar, feeling a strange sense of laziness about it all. She was used to the sweat that permeated her brow, the exertion performed on even the slowest of days. It was oddly… peaceful. Peaceful to have been so relaxed, so uninhibited by responsibilities far smaller than she seemed to imagine.
“You’re here early,” she heard behind her. She turned to meet the gaze of the co-owner and a good friend of hers, Makino. The younger woman smiled, craning her neck to see Brinley in the distance, now chatting excitedly with Luffy. “I would’ve expected our little server and Luffy to be here too. They’re never down there unless…”
“He’s coming back,” Nerine responded, sounding much more curt than intended. She rounded the bar and glanced at the nearby bulletin of bounties, more an ‘accomplishment board’ if anything according to some of the lower-ranking pirates that had come in before. She usually had choice words for them; they never had much respect for either her or Makino. And yet, her face soured more at the one man whose crew did seem to respect them. Sometimes, the worst part of her just wanted to rip it right off the board and throw it away like it was nothing.
Having sensed the tension in her friend’s shoulders, Makino placed a gentle—albeit hesitant—hand on her shoulder. While she flinched at first, Nerine found enough comfort to relax. She turned her head and was faced directly with Makino’s concern, her brows creased and lips set in a small grimace. “Did something happen between you and him, Big Sis? You’re usually not so high-strung about his crew coming back.”
Nerine felt the need to consider it for once. She knew nothing happened with Shanks, nothing ever did. She couldn’t get mad at him even if she tried, not when he was just so inherently good. Better than she could’ve ever dreamed to be. The closest she had to justified anger was him having to let Uta go, and even then he had a reason. He always, always had some kind of reason. Maybe that pissed her off more than anything.
She ran a hand through her hair, resisting the urge to tug at the choppy strands. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just…” Before she could act on any impulse, Makino reached up, gingerly taking her hand away from her hair. Nerine glanced at her, her brows raised, but the younger woman simply smiled in response.
“It’ll be okay,” she assured. She couldn’t help but laugh as she added, “even if something happens, you have people who have your back, just in case. Okay?” And even as her reassurances fell on deaf ears, Nerine didn’t have the heart to tell Makino it hardly helped. She nodded softly, but she hadn’t quite convinced the other woman. With a short exhale through her nose, she nudged Nerine closer towards the swinging doors at the front. “At least see what it’s like at the docks. You never know.”
Nerine made a low noise at the back of her throat, a resigned sound that partially sounded like more of a grumble, yet her feet told a vastly different story. She carried herself with little sense of urgency, more like the act of walking itself was a chore, all while the cobblestone beneath her feet soon turned to creaking, far aged wood. At the edge of the docks, sandals just tipping over the edge and their arms pressed together at the side, stood Brinley and Luffy. While Luffy had his eyes glued right on the rolling expanse of sea, Brinley whipped her head around. “Mommy, Luffy said he saw a ship!” She beamed, practically buzzing with the sheer extent of her joy.
Before she could get a word in, however, Luffy suddenly shot up with one hand pointed outright. “It’s right there! I’m telling you, I saw it!” Nerine glanced up, half hoping it was merely their imagination, but no. Clear as day, inching ever so closer to port, was Shanks’ ship. Despite her instinct to hide away, to avoid him and refuse risking a loss in her composure, she found herself glued to the docks. The idle chatter and calls that bordered on screams from the kids faded away, replaced only by the chill of the sea’s breeze and a ringing in her ears competing to see what could drown out the world faster.
In her daze, she had hardly noticed the anchor dropping and the gangplank’s unfurl. Nerine just took a deep breath and stepped back, although it was far too late to turn around. “Hey, Pinky!” She heard just near her. She froze at first, turning only to see a few of Shanks’ officers. Not him. Not yet. She offered a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, as one by one she greeted his most trusted officers. There were only a few, it wasn’t a lot, and yet that could’ve easily been the worst part.
All the while, Brinley and Luffy weaved through the small crowd of men, pushing each other all the while. “Move, Brinley, I wanna see him first!” Luffy whined, giving her a particularly hard shove to the shoulder.
“But I stayed up all night just to see him! I get to see him first!” She argued. The two glared daggers at each other, going back and forth in an argument that quickly derailed into something else entirely. The only respite, for once, didn’t come from Nerine separating them.
“There’s no need for you two to get so worked up.”
The two quickly looked up, only to grapple onto either one of Shanks’ legs. He laughed, hoisting them both up in either of his arms—Luffy in the left, Brinley in the right. The two kids only burst into an abundance of questions, their lips moving a mile a minute as they bombarded Shanks.
“Mr. Shanks! Where did you go this time? Did you bring back any pretty shells?” Asked Brinley, her eyes wide and curious. Although, there was an undercurrent of hope, possibly derivative of the promise of seashells.
“Yeah! What kind of bad guys did you beat up?” Luffy followed, bouncing excitedly under the hold of Shanks’ arm.
But he just laughed, offering both kids a half-hearted shrug. “Guess those are things I’m gonna have to tell you two about later.” He answered, leaving them both to whine in protest from sheer impatience. He glanced up, his eyes quickly finding Nerine as she stood before him. Ignoring the gentle flutter in his heart, he leaned down to place the two on their feet. “For now though, why don’t you two go play for a bit while Neri and I talk?”
“I don’t wanna play with her,” Luffy declared, pointing directly in Brinley’s face. She just stuck out her tongue at him, not at all having reservations against the rude gesture. Shanks rolled his eyes, and rather than trying to reason with a couple of seven year-olds, he just pushed them on towards the sand. Ignoring their insults that were only chalked up as young ignorance, he turned towards Nerine.
The world stopped, if only a moment, as their eyes met. Nerine’s fingers twitched at her side, Shanks’ lower lip found itself caught beneath his teeth in the briefest of contact. His brows creased partially in seeing the faraway look in her eyes, the way she held herself just at the waist. Even the tilt of her head gave root to potential suspicion, which was the last thing he wanted her to believe regarding him.
He placed his palm flat over his hat, letting it dangle over his back once he removed it. He offered her his usual grin, albeit strained with placation, and took one tentative step towards her. “Neri,” he started, having to clear his throat to rectify the crack in his voice. “It’s good to see you.”
“Mhm.” She responded softly, her only motion a mere pursing of her lips. Her shoulders remained hiked, the defensive gait to her body ever-present. She lifted her hand to brush some hair from her eyes, an action Shanks could’ve only dreamt of doing, as she offered him her same strained smile. “I hope your voyage went well… and y’know, all that.”
His face fell for a moment, his hand that once hovered an inch in the air falling right back to his side as he simply accepted her tension. He wouldn’t dare dream of pushing her limits, of ever overstepping the boundaries she placed. Their friendship was a once in a lifetime thing, more valuable than even the purest of gold. He fixed himself a smile and nodded his head towards the village path. “C’mon, let’s take a walk. I’ll tell you all about it.”
Shanks felt like part of him was strangely unprepared to talk to Nerine. Like anything he said could scare her off at a moment’s notice. And as much as it killed him, he knew reassurance could do so much good. It’s not like he could bring it up—it lingered in the air, festered in the tension between them. Despite being so close together, they felt like they were still miles apart.
His brow raised for a moment, and he grinned to himself as a thought popped into his mind. He gently bumped Nerine with his shoulder as they walked, causing her to snap her head up. He never realized the sheer depths of her eyes, how they were this shade of blue that shone like crystalline waters when they hit the sun just right. The rosiness of her cheeks, the pink tint of her lips that always seemed to sheen with some kind of gloss or balm—it’d be far too easy to feel them over his own, the ghost of a touch he craved more than anything in the world.
No, he had to focus. Before he could speak, Nerine noticed a small bruise over his right forearm. She looked concentrated, almost like she was glaring holes into the mark, before her eyes darted up to meet his again. “Lemme guess, another guy wanting to fight you gave you that?”
Shanks’ lips parted, his eyes wide and surprise feigned. “How’d you know?” He asked, a playful confirmation of all she ever worried about. She rolled her eyes, but the small lift at the corners of her lips didn’t go unnoticed by Shanks. He leaned in, their arms brushing again as he teased, “what, were you worrying about lil’ ol’ me? ‘Cause if you were, then I’m flattered, Neri.”
“Oh, stop it.” Nerine gave him a partial elbow to the side, which only spawned more laughter from him. She couldn’t help but laugh herself, as subdued as it may have been, and she finds herself nearly leaning into him. She stops herself just shy of his side, preventing any further contact despite her mind’s desperate pleas. “I’m allowed to worry about you. You take things too lightly, y’know. I just…”
She paused, considering her next words. Only in the deep recesses of her mind, far too dark and dreary to put a true name to, did she ever consider the worst. The idea that one day, after making too many promises he couldn’t keep, Shanks wouldn’t return. That he’d grow bored, he’d be too tired to make such a journey, or worse… she didn’t even want to consider how deep the cesspool of her brain could sink.
“I’m worried you won’t be able to lift the world above your shoulders the way you always do. Nobody can carry themselves so high all the time, Shanks.” She sighed, avoiding his gaze all over again as she muttered, “not even you.” She expected disappointment, potentially even anger in the face of his unshakable facade. She was disgusted in herself for even bothering to question him in such a way, disrespecting his tenacity and strength.
When he was utterly silent, only then did she meet his gaze again. And at that moment, the moment their eyes met, his fingers brushed hers. Her breath caught in her throat, yet she made no motion to move. He just slotted his calloused fingers in her softer ones, as though that’s where they belonged the whole time, their palms joining and hands pooling into the purest entanglement.
“Neri, listen to me.” He didn’t command, he merely asked, his tone so ungodly soft she swore it filled the ache in her heart to the brim. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a silent assurance that proved to ease part of her worries.“No matter how hurt I could get or anything that could probably happen to me, I know one thing,” he puts up one finger with his free hand, offering a more playful action even amidst a serious conversation. He always had a way with settling her fears and brightening her day all in the same moment—a habit she figured he had since their childhood. “I wouldn’t want you assuming the worst every time I go out. And while I can’t promise total safety, I got enough confidence to know I’ll be back every time. For you, y’know?”
He halted their trek, stopping just in the center of the winding path before them. Using his empty hand, he tucked the most insignificant strand of hair behind her ear. And yet, his perceptibility alone caused her heart to stutter in her chest. “‘Sides… I’d hate to miss out on a chance to see a face as lovely as yours when I’m coming back.” Some part of Nerine wanted to push him away again, deny all advances he’d even try to suggest. Yet, as she stared into his eyes, she knew he meant every word of it.
She didn’t know just what came over her—she could’ve chalked it up to guts or her overwhelming sense of joy. For once, she felt… comfort. Comfortable in herself, comfortable in her feelings, even. They felt far less like a burden on her fractured soul, like something she could truly live in peace with. To know Shanks was the cause of that, that he alone could truly heal her wounds in ways most genuine and untainted, filled her with emotions far more overwhelming than any childish affinity.
She suddenly found herself clinging to him like a lifeline, her hands digging imperceptibly into the fabric of his shirt, roughened by many a voyage and the occasional wash. The scent of sea flooded her senses as she hung off of him, a powerful smell that seemed to meld with the slightest undertone of booze. She grinned to herself; of course he did. Typical to know he’d smell like the two things he cherished most in life.
The reality of their position came into play only when his arms wrapped around her waist. She froze, her eyes shooting open, and she slowly pulled herself back. She hadn’t even realized the slight blur in her eyes, brought on only by the emotions overcoming her. Yet Shanks just smiled, only revealing more of his same boyish charm to her, and he reached up to catch a stray tear on his finger. “Hey, c’mon, you don’t gotta cry… I mean it. I’m always gonna be there for you, okay? I promise.”
Nerine didn’t speak at first, deciding instead to nod. She sniffled, straightening her shoulders out even as she stood otherwise rooted to the ground. She tightened her grip on him, more sure of herself, and she finally managed a real smile. One that went ear to ear, one that revealed those dimples he’d been longing for, the shine in her eyes that gleamed so simply and yet so wonderfully. “Okay. Then I’ll be here for you too, Shanks.” She responded, her voice no longer meek like before.
Shanks couldn’t help but beam at that. It was always a treat to see Nerine so unapologetically herself, uninhibited by her pains and replaced by a happiness so profound. It stole his breath, really, for one person to be so radiant without trying. He grinned, parting from the embrace in favor of tugging back on her hand. “Alright, let’s keep going. I wanna get another good look at the island before I get a drink. You’ll hook me up good, right, Neri?”
Nerine snorted, and even in her amusement, she couldn’t help but shake her head with mock exasperation. “Yeah, sure. Your precious booze can wait, alright? I’m sure they won’t run the place dry for me to get out the good stuff.” That was debatable, really, but she hardly cared. The logistics could wait—for now, it was just her and Shanks. And honestly, in this seemingly insignificant moment, that sounded like utter perfection.