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Summary
“I see you’re not one for conversation.” He snorts. “Don’t worry, Marimo, I’m not here for a connection, either. I’m here to do my job.” He takes a drag and blows the smoke away from their direction. “You’re just someone who lights my smokes.” Zoro feels something negative creep up on him. Hurt. Offense? He doesn’t like that this guy matches his unfavorable disposition, and it challenges him despite the initial negativity. Like a perfect swordfight. Like two typhoons clashing. Fuck, it lights a fire inside him, too.
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Zoro's quiet and menial job as a bouncer at a strip club is one day disturbed by the presence of a Prince.