[ It’s moments like these that Sanji would normally take a drag on his cigarette and take the time to think. He watches her as she struggles to say what’s on her mind. It’s not like he can’t understand that. Being vulnerable is hard, even for someone like him who wears his heart on his sleeve. And what she says isn’t really surprising. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d had a dozen boyfriends or lovers before him, but he knows her and knows something of where she’s come from. That she’s had none is just another testament to the life she’s lived and the kind of strength she has as a person.
His immediate instinct is to wrap her in a hug. That feels off, though, perhaps a little too forward with what they’re discussing instead. Everything he wants to say feels wrong, too, and he feels another bout of nervousness grip his stomach. ]
What a pair we are. [ He laughs softly at the ridiculousness of it, nervousness seeping through into the laughter, and reaches out to lightly take her free hand in his. Drinking another swallow of the wine, he glances up at the ceiling, then meets her gaze. ] You know, when I was still learning to cook, Zeff always used to say that yesterday’s mistakes didn’t matter. You made a mistake, learned from it, and tried again the next day. I got a fresh slate with him everyday.
[ Not that he wouldn’t remind him of any mistakes he made constantly, especially if he made it again, but the old chef never held them against him, either. ]
What I’m trying to say is… what you have or haven’t done before we met doesn’t matter. We’ll figure things out, somehow. I’ll try my best, you’ll try your best, and if we make mistakes, we’ll try again the next day. [ Is this the right thing to say? Is there a right thing to say? Sanji honestly doesn’t know, but he speaks as best he can from his heart. Their entire crew is like them— misfits who haven’t had anything resembling a normal childhood— and they’ve managed so far. He smiles at her, wide and earnest as he can. ] And who knows? Maybe it’s a good thing neither of us has much experience with… with this. We get to decide what we want this to be.
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His immediate instinct is to wrap her in a hug. That feels off, though, perhaps a little too forward with what they’re discussing instead. Everything he wants to say feels wrong, too, and he feels another bout of nervousness grip his stomach. ]
What a pair we are. [ He laughs softly at the ridiculousness of it, nervousness seeping through into the laughter, and reaches out to lightly take her free hand in his. Drinking another swallow of the wine, he glances up at the ceiling, then meets her gaze. ] You know, when I was still learning to cook, Zeff always used to say that yesterday’s mistakes didn’t matter. You made a mistake, learned from it, and tried again the next day. I got a fresh slate with him everyday.
[ Not that he wouldn’t remind him of any mistakes he made constantly, especially if he made it again, but the old chef never held them against him, either. ]
What I’m trying to say is… what you have or haven’t done before we met doesn’t matter. We’ll figure things out, somehow. I’ll try my best, you’ll try your best, and if we make mistakes, we’ll try again the next day. [ Is this the right thing to say? Is there a right thing to say? Sanji honestly doesn’t know, but he speaks as best he can from his heart. Their entire crew is like them— misfits who haven’t had anything resembling a normal childhood— and they’ve managed so far. He smiles at her, wide and earnest as he can. ] And who knows? Maybe it’s a good thing neither of us has much experience with… with this. We get to decide what we want this to be.