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Benn throws a cursory glance over the main deck as he comes up the companionway, frowning when he still can't find Shanks. Their good captain hasn't been in his room, their shared office overrun with sudden and very dreadful paperwork, nor the mess or anywhere else under deck Shanks is known to haunt. And even up on deck there is not a single sign of their fearless leader to be seen. Benn throws a look over a nearby railing for a moment, contemplative. Then he discards that possibility too, seeing as the obligatory hollering and commotion of anyone diving into the depths in search for treasure or a shiny fish is missing. So.
Where the fuck is he.
"Lime," he calls up to the forecastle, twisting around to catch sight of their helmsman.
"Yeaaaaaa?" The bored drawl that answers him tells Benn everything he needs to know about Limejuice's enthusiasm for their current slow pace.
He swallows a grin at the theatrics, understanding the frustration well enough. None of the lads have appreciated the forced quiet while he and Shanks try to sort out the attention their sudden promotion to ruler over the New World has brought. More than half of that dreaded paperwork in the office is from territories wanting to join the newest Emperor to be, after all. The other half is shifting alliances good and bad. It's giving Benn a headache just thinking about it. He really doesn't appreciate all those new responsibilities foisted off on them, and even less how crabby Shanks has been as a result of Sengoku's newest strategic move to try to pin them down.
Even worse, it's not going to get any better any time soon either. The last change in the Emperor lineup was more than a decade ago, and as a result the whole Grand Line has been far more unruly than usual since that special edition and the inflammatory headline proclaiming Shanks one of the four Emperors. Benn fully expects a slew of overconfident rookies to start gunning for them soon, too, never mind the other Emperors who wont take this shift of power lying down.
"You seen Chief?" he asks, regretfully unable to offer Lime any respite to his boredom.
"S back on the lower deck, hiding behind one of the row boats at port side," is the prompt answer.
A very startling answer, actually. Benn blinks a few times, confused, then turns to look at said row boats. There's neither hide nor any red hair to be seen and he can't feel anything else either when he reaches out with Observation. Which means Shanks really doesn't want to be found, if he's using Conqueror to intercept any other Haki. Though he still ensured Lime at least knows where to find him, and presumably didn't tell him not to tattle either. So there is that. "Thanks."
"Cheers," Limejuice calls back. And then, after a moment, "please fix him, Vice. I wanna go fast again."
Benn throws a wave over his shoulder as he slides down the stairs, huffing a rueful laugh. "Yeah yeah, I'll do my best."
A short glance over the red tarp tells Benn which one Shanks most likely chose to hide in and he peels it up to peer underneath. And grins amused, when he finds his captain squished behind the boat and two barrels, looking deeply deeply miffed indeed. Benn feels for him too, is annoyed about all the extra attention that's about to descend on them, but that face is a sight to be enjoyed freely anyway.
"What's got you sulking?" he asks, not quite able to keep the laughter out of his voice.
Shanks, always game to be laughed with, makes an even worse face just because, before he resettles back into something more neutral, but still very disgruntled. "Morgans is a moron."
Definitely, but Benn is still thrown by the answer. Didn't see that one coming, admittedly. Sengoku? Sure. Maybe even Garp, seeing as Shanks likes to harp on the old marine that's still chasing them even now. Morgans wasn't on that list, though. Benn tries to remember the papers from this morning. There have been quite a few juicy headlines about them following the big announcement. Stands to reason Morgans topped the one that claims Shanks somehow managed to be romantically involved with Big Mom—that Benn is futilely trying to forget the accompanying mental image of—if Shanks is this cross about it. Then he rather abruptly realises he didn't manage to read today's edition yet, because of all the other work piling up.
"True," he agrees, because yes, Morgans is indeed a moron.
With a shuffle, Shanks scoots to the side as far as he can manage and Benn obligingly settles into the offered space. It's really very squishy with the two of them jammed together like this between the barrels and the boat, but Benn doesn't mind right now. Keeping his captain close enough to stop him from implementing supposedly great ideas borne out of a sulk is always a good idea in his books, even if it leaves them pressed together from shoulder to knee. The tarp falls back down over them, making the space feel even smaller than it already is.
"Why the fuck would they declare me Emperor, this is so stupid," Shanks says next, which is actually what Benn expected originally. But of course Shanks just throws that out as an afterthought after already stumping Benn with his thought processes. Who needs a logical captain, after all.
"True," he repeats, because it is. They really haven't done anything Emperor worthy, surely.
Only a few territories claimed, most important amongst them an out of the way no name island that Shanks insisted on because it supposedly has the 'best beer ever on all of the Grand Line,' but that Benn knows is just because of the tobacco farms all over it. The rest are only theirs because port managers keep swearing fealty to them on behalf of the whole island, because Shanks always bribes them with random trinkets that are somehow always said manager's secret hobby to collect. Benn doesn't think those should count, personally. It's not like they're trying to expand their territory, it just kind of happens because of Shanks' stupidly magnetic charisma.
They don't have a fleet either, just some scattered goof-ball crews that they took under their flag just so they don't die on the open seas or something like that. Fugar is constantly loosing his dentals, for seas' sake, Sengoku surely can't take that seriously.
They don't even interfere in marine or pirate matters if they're not dragged into it by someone trying to kidnap Monster or something equally idiotic. Most of their time is filled with searching for more booze to sample and new colourful beach umbrellas to buy. Certainly nothing in comparison to what Big Mom or Kaidou get up to on the regular. All in all, Sengoku really doesn't have reason to declare them Emperor.
"We don't have any Devil Fruit users on the crew," Shanks says next, still obviously determined to lead the conversation all over the place with little rhyme and certainly no reason.
Benn is long used to following Shanks' unexplainable leaps of intuition and or madness, but this is clearly something else. Something that's eating at his captain a lot more than he expected. He nods again. "Also true."
"Everyone else does," Shanks continues, actually seeming to stay on the topic this time. Getting closer to what's actually bothering him then. Benn would appreciate that a lot more if it would make any sense.
"Yeah, I suppose most other crews have fruit users on them." He never really thought about it before, but they do stand out a bit in that, don't they. Huh.
"And we don't," Shanks nods against his shoulder. It really is too tight to fit both of them in here at all, never mind comfortably.
"We don't," he agrees, because there really is no denying that.
"Morgans called us snobby." Shanks waves the newspaper he's got clutched in his hand around, though not at an angle where Benn can see the headline, especially in the dull red light.
"Ah." Benn wrinkles his nose, because Morgans' slop is always offensive for how much it's being called to heel by the government. Reputable news source his ass, it's propaganda through and through. Propaganda that's actually asking an interesting question this time, though. Maybe.
"Yeah."
He stares silently at the inside of the red tarp, contemplative. Are they elitist about this? They choose new members via Shanks declaring someone part of the crew and then they hunt said new mate down until they agree to join. As far as Benn knows, Shanks' criteria hasn't ever involved more than instinct about who would best fit. And inevitably they always fit right into a hole no one's really noticed before, but that stands out stark after it's been filled. Not once has Shanks chosen wrong, and Benn fully expects he wont ever either, even if it seems they end up with no fruit users as result.
"Should we get fruit users?" he asks, admittedly undecided about this strange new twist the world's thrown at them.
"I don't know!" Shanks huffs, back to offended and a little bit too lost for Benn's tastes. He gestures with the newspaper again. "I don't mean to only pick up non users, it just happens. Do you think someone on the crew actually wants to eat a fruit and doesn't because they think I won't like it?"
Aha. Finally got to the true reason for all the sulking. Benn chews on the question despite how silly it seems at face value, intent to give Shanks the proper answer it actually deserves. And himself, really, because if the crew is unhappy then that's on his shoulders as much as Shanks'.
Methodically, he goes over any relevant conversation he can think of, overheard or participated. Tries to remember tone of voice, micro expressions, stumbled wordings telling of different meanings. Comes up completely blank on any possible hidden wishes to have a Devil Fruit from anyone. There isn't a lot of chatter amongst the crew about fruits to begin with, outside of bets about how many bellies they can get in turn for those found in treasure chests or stolen from rival crews. All of them inevitably end up stored away in the hull, ignored until they find someone to pawn them off to.
"Don't think so?" he offers, though he doesn't sound as sure about it as he would like.
Mostly because he abruptly realises that he himself is also incredibly dismissive of the things. He has zero interest in getting himself a fruit power, more than happy with just his riffle. Always served him well, not met any enemy he couldn't finish off with it and a little bit of Haki. It would feel quite strange to use anything else, he thinks. Also, there isn't a single power he's seen or read about that he would want, so there is that too.
Shanks makes another face, wiggles the papers in restlessness and some kind of point probably. "Yeah, see, we both are disinterested. And that obviously will influence the crew. So, how can we be sure that they don't secretly want one?"
"I'm pretty sure they will just eat one if they do," Benn huffs. He's sure about that one at least.
Yasopp certainly would love to shove something like that right into Benn's face, if he thought Benn were disinclined to it. But Yasopp also loves his sniper riffle too much to ever use anything else. Beside table knives, of course, but that's only for throwing around on board. Roux has a love for pistols that is probably unhealthy, and only rivaled by his love for frying pans. Lime will not be separated from his trusty staff on pain of death. It's the same for everyone else. As far as Benn has seen they've all gleefully taken to Haki and using weapons or their fists. And really, rare is the sight of a fruit user using anything other than their fruit, so. Stands to reason no one secretly wants to eat a Devil Fruit. Though, Benn's admittedly a bit narrow minded about it, only thinking about Devil Fruits in terms of weapons and fighting.
"Should we ask?" Shanks makes a theatrically thoughtful face, squints his eyes. "Maybe we should ask. Offer to go raid a marine base or ten for a few of the things, there's bound to be useful ones, right?"
"Oh, sure. I can just see that conversation going over so well. Hey, Hongo, you want a Devil Fruit to eat?" Benn scoffs and jostles Shanks' shoulder to knock him out of that line of thought. "He'll check you out for a fever if you try that. And everyone else will just drag you to him post-haste, to the same result."
"I can give a speech," Shanks continues right on, barely even acknowledging the incredulity past switching tracks to a different idea. "Tell them that it's fine."
While Benn would pay good money to hear that speech—Shanks will somehow manage to twist that into something feasible sounding, instead of the lunacy that it is, he's talented like that—it's still a stupid idea that wont get them anywhere. "They'll laugh you off the table. And possibly ban you from drinking any more booze in fear of the alcohol poisoning they'll rightfully think you're suffering from."
"Mutiny!" Shanks declares on reflex alone, then waves the whole thing away, clearly not about to be stopped by logic but at least willing to be diverted again. "Maybe Monster wants one?"
For a too long moment, Benn is overcome with the mental image of Monster cackling gleefully atop a heap of destruction, slamming her copper plates together to cause typhoons or something equally destructive as that. "…how about no. We don't need that kind of horror in our lives."
Shanks grimaces in agreement. Then he makes another face because he can't think of another solution to this possible problem he's come up with. Thankfully, steps close by distract them both before Shanks can barrel on an even more lunatic idea.
"Why're you two hiding behind the row boats? Having a tête a tête?" Yasopp sticks his head under their little tarp tent, sounding entirely too gleeful about their cramped hiding space. "If so, please tell me, I simply must know. For professional reasons, obviously."
Benn gives him a deeply unimpressed look, but acknowledges that there really can't be that many explanations for how they've ended up so squished together. "Shut up, idiot."
"Not on your life, asshole," Yasopp grins right back, entirely unbothered. "So. Are we playing seven minutes in heaven? You gotta tell me if we do, I wouldn't wanna intrude."
"You would love to intrude if we were," Shanks snorts, but he's looking rather too intent for the teasing tone. Oh boy. "Do you want a fruit, Yasopp."
The nonsensical question more a statement than anything else clearly stumps Yasopp, who just blinks confusedly for a few long seconds. Then he rallies again, because they've all been long inured to Shanks' brand of chaos and can take sudden left field questions like a pro. "Gonna assume you don't mean an apple."
The faintly incredulous and teasing tone for once flies right over Shanks' head, who continues to look intently earnest in a way they all have a hard time saying no to. "No no, a Devil Fruit. Do you want a Devil Fruit, Yasopp? It's okay if you do."
Benn helplessly watches this shipwreck of a conversation unfold, unable to look away or try to stop it as Yasopp visibly grapples with his incredulity and Shanks leans forward far too intent looking.
"Cool. Didn't think it wasn't. No thank you though," Yasopp says slowly, sounding very confused but at least firm in the face of that expression. Then he tilts his head at Benn, without taking his eyes off of Shanks. "Vice, what's gotten into him?"
"Idiocy," Benn mutters, pushing Yasopp back with a foot so he can maybe crawl back out of this cramped sardine spot. His body isn't so young anymore and would like some more space now, actually. Especially if he's supposed to be weathering the storm Shanks is so busily unleashing upon them.
"You would tell me if you wanted a fruit, right?" Shanks continues on, unrelenting and clearly not willing to be stopped in this new quest of his.
Oooooh boy.
Yasopp eyes him some more, then does some complicated mimes in Benn's direction that he categorically refuses to see. He's washing his hands off this whole thing. Shanks obviously has gotten it into his head that he needs to ask his way through the whole crew one at a time and clearly won't be stopped anymore. Better they get it out of the way before something explodes. Or Monster gets a Devil Fruit to eat and takes over the world.
"I do kind of want that apple now, not gonna lie," Yasopp answers, sounding like he's trying to figure out what exactly it is that Shanks wants from him. Benn wishes him good luck on that one, seeing as he's very certain that Shanks doesn't know either.
"I will get you one," Shanks agrees, still so damnably earnest. "But no, a Devil Fruit. Are you sure you don't want one? I will get you one if you do."
Yasopp eyes him some more, leery like Shanks is about to bite him. Or force a Devil Fruit down his throat. Which, Benn isn't sure that particular scenario isn't actually in their near future, and accordingly starts making plans to deal with the fallout if Shanks' newest obsession gets that bad.
With a wordless noise of question Yasopp finally turns away from Shanks. "Benn, seriously. What's happening with him."
"Madness," Benn answers this time, and heaves himself to his feet. He's done fighting the inevitable. And also maybe intent to track some mates down to figure out if anyone wants a fruit too. Shanks can be the obvious—and very distracting—main attack while Benn clears the field from behind. That way they'll sniff out anyone that's dissatisfied, about fruits or anything else.
"Yeah, I know he's cray-cray, Benn, but what's this fruit shit about." At least Yasopp is clearly happy as is and doesn't need any help.
That's good. One down, all the rest to go. Benn waves him away, mentally making a spreadsheet so he doesn't miss anyone. "Don't worry about it."
Yasopp's eyebrows raise high enough to disappear into his dreadlocks, and he actually takes a big step back, eyeing them both now with growing apprehension. "Cooooool. Now I'm doubly worried, just so you know."
"Do you think Roux wants a fruit?" Shanks throws into the conversation like he's throwing fuel on a fire, crawling out of his little hidey-hole after Benn and looking far too intently towards the galley. "I should go ask if he wants a fruit. If you're absolutely sure you don't want one, Yasopp."
"Yes, Chief"—Yasopp gives a showy, deliberate kind of nod, eyes a bit wide—"I'm really really sure I don't want any Devil Fruit, thanks. Go bother Roux."
With that reassurance, and a suspicious lingering look back over his shoulder that Yasopp helplessly shrugs off, Shanks scampers off across the deck and disappears below in search for his next hapless victim to inflict madness upon.
Talk about throwing people to the sharks. Benn gives Yasopp an appropriately chiding look for offering their cook up to Shanks' tender mercy.
"Roux will distract him, he's good at that," Yasopp shrugs, completely unbothered. "Now, seriously. What the fuck is up with both of you?"
From below they hear Shanks' voice calling for said cook through the wood, the sound of a door being slammed open with great enthusiasm. The one to the galley, presumably. Well, it's true that Roux is generally quite good at dealing with Shanks' crazy, but still. The principle of the matter.
Benn crosses his arms and frowns firmly. "The cook is not bait to be thrown out for distraction, even for Shanks."
Yasopp just shrugs again. "Sure he is. For Chief most of all."
Two faint voices reach up to them now, presumably just to underline that point. Both of them sound very animated. Shanks really is too excited about all this, here's to hoping he'll calm down soon. Benn is fully on board with making their way through the crew and ensuring no one's unhappy, but an obsessive Shanks intent to foist a Devil Fruit off on someone wont be a very gentle method at all.
The voices raise. Which makes Benn abruptly realise the tactical blunder he's just committed. Considering Yasopp's widening eyes shading into a deeply regretful expression, he's not the only one. Shit, Roux's the single worst crewmember they could have send Shanks off to right now. He's far too excited about all of Shanks' crazy, he'll just add fuel to the fires of Shanks' harebrained idea.
Oh no.
Benn throws himself over the lifeboat, Yasopp dives around it, both of them leap across the deck to get to the below fast enough.
"This is your fucking fault," Benn hisses while he rams into the frame in his haste.
Yasopp slams into him from the side, jostles past to get ahead and throws a "fuck off, its not" over his shoulder. The voices become more intelligible the closer they get. It's not a comfort.
"—better if you have options? Like, examples for what we could get them? There's bound to be some fruit that's useful for, like, navigating and stuff, right?" Roux sounds far too encouraging. It only serves to add more alarm bells to the cacophony already ringing in Benn's head.
"You're so right, Lucky. I'm gonna go get the encyclopedia," Shanks exclaims eagerly, just as Yasopp reaches for the door.
They're too late, judging by those words and the wide grin on Roux' face as their cook delightedly watches their captain descend even further into madness than he already has.
"Yeah yeah, good idea, Boss!" Roux cheers, throwing a truly insultingly goading grin their way while he's at it. Oh, he definitely noticed that he just got used as a distraction to keep Shanks busy. "You want me to find Lime for you?"
More night-guard duty for him, Benn swears to himself as he and Yasopp slam into the door at the same time. And the sniper.
Shanks, looking far too manic for comfort, points enthusiastically. "You're the best, Roux!"
"No!" Benn declares uselessly, pushing at Yasopp's back to get past him and into the room. Nothing good can come of Shanks getting his hands on the Devil Fruit encyclopedia right now. Every last shred of Observation tells him that loud and clear.
"Come on, Chief, Lime doesn't want a Devil Fruit either!" Yasopp shouts desperately, wheeling madly not to face-plant. Benn feels no remorse in his role in that. Yasopp's fault for bullying ahead.
"You don't know that!" Roux cheers, with far too much excitement for the blatant lies he's spouting. "Also, I'm getting Snake too."
"Here, Yasopp, your apple," Shanks adds, tossing one across the room. Shiny red and all.
Benn would wonder how he got one so fast, but well. Roux. Truly a magical food appearing man, is their cook. Also a truly magical self disappearing man, seeing as he and Shanks somehow manage to slip around Benn and Yasopp and Yasopp's new apple before they can be stopped from spreading the crazy amongst the crew.
With sinking dread, Benn contemplates the rapidly disappearing tactical resources left to him in the face of this particular adversary. There aren't any, he realises with resignation. The moment Shanks and Roux join forces they can't be stopped anymore. That's it then. Let the insanity unfold.
Well, it's been a while since Shanks has shaken the crew up with one of his more loony plots, and at least this one doesn't involved looping over Reverse Mountain for shits and giggles. Could be worse.
—
Nevermind. Could not be worse.
Why did he even think that? Benn really should know better than to jinx himself like that. But he didn't, so he's eating his own words now. Because of course Shanks will find a way to prove him wrong even for things only in Benn's head. With a sigh he clings to a nearby line for balance as the deck heaves violently under his feet, and resigns himself to having to adjust his scale of normal-to-crazy again. Several notches, even, considering this ludicrous situation they're in right now. With somewhat desperate hope to find calm in the influx of nicotine he takes a deep drag of smoke. It doesn't work. Mostly because Shanks is currently grinning too manically for anyone to be calm at all, least of all Benn.
How Shanks not only got the harebrained idea to search for a Devil Fruit at the very top of Reverse Mountain of all places, and then also managed to find a way for the ship to actually stop there despite the impossibilities of the physics involved in such a stunt, is far beyond Benn's comprehension. Thankfully. He can't afford to suffer from that kind of insanity, someone needs to be the nominally sane one here. If only to ask such inconsequential questions as "do we really need to try this magnificently idiotic and dangerous stunt just to claim a Devil Fruit no one has any intention of eating? A fruit that may not even be up there at all?" Sadly for Benn's peace of mind, the answer was an uniform and enthusiastic yes from the whole crew, so here he is. At the very top of Reverse Mountain.
At least figuring out the numbers involved was a fun challenge.
The Red Force groans loudly against the current they're keeping her on, aching against the force that's mercilessly trying to drag them down the mountain again. Benn takes another deep breath of smoke, it still doesn't work to either calm his nerves or settle the queasy feeling in his gut from how many rounds they've had to do over the mountain now, trying to achieve this stop.
There even is—by some miracle of luck he's too exasperated to contemplate closer—a tiny little plant on the tiny little strip of very rocky land they've halted besides. And hanging from it, bright pink and lime green, is indeed a Devil Fruit. Just like Shanks predicted there would be. Benn closes his eyes in deep exasperation and tries to remember any god crazy enough to make this happen, just so he can curse it out for it. Sadly he's quite certain this is not due to any godly intervention and simply Shanks being Shanks in the most Shanks way he can be Shanks. That should be a far more horrifying thought than it is nowadays.
How did their conversation about Morgans' insulting article turn into a crew wide scramble to find the silliest and most useless fruit powers possible? Why did their conversation about Morgans' insulting article end up with a crew wide scramble to find the silliest and most useless fruit powers possible and Shanks cheerfully plucking a Devil Fruit from a plant on top of Reverse Mountain, hopping back on deck with the biggest, most aggravating grin on his face? He knows the encyclopedia was a key part in it, but all the rest of it is as unexplainable as the seas. Or Shanks' sanity. Benn has so many questions, barely any answers that fit none of them, and no hope at all to find any solutions ever. He takes another deep breath of smoke, rides out a lurch that drags them far too close to the edge and a plummet to certain death, and resigns himself to his decision to follow this madness for the rest of his life.
"The Loop Loop Fruit!" Shanks declares grandly, holding it up like the most precious of treasures.
Yeah. Sure. Of course.
The lads cheer, but it's somewhat strained from the effort of keeping the ship steady against the unbending pull. It keeps getting faster, Benn swears. Like the mountain is offended at their impossible stunt. Same, he thinks at it and then stops doing that, because it sounds far too much like something Shanks would do.
Another lurch shudders across the wood, rattles every bolt and cranny of their lady. Despite the crew's best efforts they inch forward nearly half the ship length before they manage to steady again. Not much farther and they're going to get slingshotted right off the mountain in another stomach turning careen back down the canal. Benn does not face palm, but it's only because he's too busy being proud of the crew's efforts to pull this all off. Despite the harebrained madness of it, it really is quite the achievement what they've managed. They're very possibly the only crew to have ever done so, even.
Curse Roux for being such a formidable enabler and turning Shanks' mostly harmless intent to ask every single man on the crew about wanting a Devil Fruit into this mess, though. Benn would have preferred the catastrophe of Monster getting to eat a fruit. Not really, but still.
What even does a Loop Loop Fruit do, he very deliberately does not ask either himself or out loud, for fear of the answer he would receive. Shanks takes this moment of Benn's internal crisis to loudly shout "Let's goooooo!" and the resulting chaos as everyone indeed lets go, and the ship shoots forward and then down for the nth time this day, takes care of the rest of all that thinking for a good long while. At least Limejuice is incredibly happy about getting to do neck breaking stunts at the helm again. And the lads are all very distracted from any adjustment Shanks being declared an Emperor has had on them, that's for sure.
Once they've managed to land in safer waters again, by some miracale with everyone and the ship mostly unhurt and untraumatised, Benn very deliberately goes to sit beside Crocus, ignoring any and all puppy eyes thrown his way with extreme prejudice. He didn't make such a huge drama out of getting his own silly fruit. Attacking the fifth division of the Whitebeard pirates and snatching the Fries Fries Fruit from right under Vista's french fries obsessed nose is far more sane than this idiocy and Benn will stand by this assessment until he's dead.
"Do you know what the Loop Loop Fruit does?" he asks the only passably sane man that's ever been on a ship with Shanks. Some people would of course assume that Rayleigh was the source of sanity on the Oro Jackson, but Benn knows better than that. No first mate is ever sane. He certainly isn't.
"The what now?" Crocus asks, not even bothering with getting up from his chair for their arrival, after so many times already. He does give Benn a bottle of beer instead, which Benn deeply appreciates.
"Yeah exactly," he sighs, and lets himself fall down on the grass, for once very glad to have solid ground under his feet instead of a deck. It's going to take a while for his belly to recover from all those loops over the mountain, that's for sure.
"Hm," Crocus makes, so obviously not interested in participating in any part of this insanity, it's truly refreshing.
They're quiet for a moment, while Benn watches the crew scrabble about taking stock of any damages the Red Force could have taken from the stunts they just pulled. He's glad to see the assessment seems to be nothing worse than a few scratches in the paint. Amazing, all things considered.
With a contemplating hum, Crocus takes a swallow of his own beer. "Some really interesting articles in the papers. Quite the fun speculations going around too."
Hiding a grin behind his bottle, Benn thinks of the many increasingly outraged headlines that have been following them for the last few months of randomly criss-crossing the Grand Line in a mad search for ever more stupid fruits to add to their impromptu collection. Always great fun to bamboozle that old bird and everyone else on the Grand Line. And certainly no greater fun than having Sengoku send increasingly frazzled spies after them, trying to figure out what the Red Hair pirates want with such interesting things as the Grass Grass Fruit. Or the Slug Slug Fruit that Snake raced one of the Beast pirates for.
"Not our fault people can't figure such obvious shit out," he says, careful to keep any amusement firmly out of his voice.
Crocus gives another hum, obviously eyeing the lads that are playing around in the water. Not a one of them showing any sign of a fruit users weakness to the sea.
For now, Benn's bet on the winner is the Cork Cork Fruit, grandly presented to their laughing captain by Roux. According to their very wise cook, this fruit has the power to ensure Shanks will be getting all the corks out of any bottles forever, without having to use teeth due to his missing arm. Though Hongo's Pen Pen Fruit is a close second. No one has yet any clue what exactly they're going to do with the fruits after their bet is over and the winner crowned, but the hold is certainly getting cramped now. They'll come up with something in the end. After all, not one of them is going to be eaten.
Well, Benn wont complain too much about this mad adventure of theirs. It's proven quite thoroughly that the crew is perfectly alright with their state of supposedly snobby fruitlessness, considering the glee that's taken hold of all of them for this race of theirs. Benn puts the whole worry about it safely behind him.