( and to the door — one bouncy nami, a nearly inedible cocktail in her hand that is maybe four parts vodka to one parts orange juice, because sanji didn't make it for her. she opens the door with a little more grandeur than it probably deserves, an arm extended in a ta-dah, it's me way, without actually offering to help him with the clothes. her hands are full (with cocktail). )

Yay, come in. You can just drop those on the bed.

( see also, her humble piercing operation: needles, a lighter, a cut up apple, alcohol wipes and paper towels, all laid out on her desk. she waits until he's inside before following up with, )

And you better not flirt with Shanks when he gets here. I'm so serious. Deadly serious.