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Summary
He could tell Crocodile had five different muscle knots making his walk meaner. It was obvious, once you noticed that he was sieving into sand every time he moved, in the guise of taking steps. Whatever he'd done had locked either in his neck, or his ribs.
Buggy, kindly of course, pointed it out to him. And he'd be downright courteous about it, like a concerned leader and chairman of the Guild should be.
"You're gonna grind your teeth into sand, unless that's the point?"
In which Buggy employs his handy skills on a too-agonized-to-complain Crocodile.
Series
- Part 11 of saturday one piece posting