"You can split the winnings with the others–" Nami keeps her cut and provides for the crew in other ways; namely, the massive, mostly safe space that is her queen's suite, where the guys are free to stay and spare themselves the House's bullshit. It's how she protects them. Not that she'd really need any justification to holding on to her chips.

But they're leagues away from philosophical conversation at the moment, with her thighs bracketing his lap, squeezing his hips for leverage when she brings their bodies close enough to fulfill her dice roll. Perhaps it's the months of being here that make her surprised when he declines the offer to pull her clothes off, followed by the faintest trace of embarrassment over how easily she'd laid that out for him. The promise of a big payout would have been enough to keep her on task despite that, but when it's coupled with her own stubbornness – her blatant refusal to let Zoro get under her skin – she manages to keep her head in the game.

Then his hands travel up her skirt and under her panties to fan out over the curve of her ass, and Nami responds by laughing quietly before her hips pointedly angle downward, ensuring she's pressed flush against the firming line of his cock, too aware of his body to not keep her voice low when she finally chances speaking again.

"Says the guy who couldn't wait to get half his clothes off." For all that carefully curated quiet, there's no way to mask the breathlessness that hangs on every word, or the way she arches her back just enough to press her ass against his hands while continuing to slowly move against him.

For the sake of the payout, of course.