( actually getting drunk was a terrible idea, because now she's all emotional about koby thinking she's pretty. he knows what he's doing, the asshole. )
( 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.
[Even though the vague whiff of that cocktail has Koby's nosy scrunching, his mouth watering with a perverse sort of desire and revulsion, he still smiles at Nami's pose, at her braided-back bright hair and her tipsy grin. He's got his phone in one hand, both arms wrapped around an armful of fabric, primarily patterned or pink or glittery. He looks both excited and deeply nervous, as is tradition at Nami's girl's nights.
Though most of these events don't have so many sharp objects involved. Koby drops the armful of clothes, thinking briefly of another place, another room, another stack of clothes and Nami's hands on his shoulders, the scent of citrus.] Hello to you too. That's a lot of needles.
[The clothes are dumped, one slippery-silky cherry-patterned top almost slithering to the ground before Koby catches it. His glasses are up in his hair, keeping it back -- it's grown long enough now to curl a little at the ends, at the nape of his neck.
Then, making a face:] I'm not going to flirt with Shanks. We don't flirt. I ask questions and he says nothing and smiles knowingly, mostly. [From beneath the stack of clothes, Koby unearths a couple bottles of Smirnoff, because White Claw isn't a thing yet.] Are you piercing him too?
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no subject
that part hasn't changed.
they aren't.
we've been training together and i'd have noticed. [Is that what the kids call it?]
I mean it. There are some very pretty girls here, but
You're the only Nami.
no subject
they're alright tho
"training together"? koby ew
( actually getting drunk was a terrible idea, because now she's all emotional about koby thinking she's pretty. he knows what he's doing, the asshole. )
okay fine i'll marry you jeeze
no subject
YES training together. It's
We've
Don't "ew" me, he's actually very very nice about
That. [Shanks is a generous lover and now you know that too, Nami.
A huff of a laugh, then he's kicking on the door to knock.] Let me in, wife-to-be, my arms are full.
no subject
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.
no subject
Though most of these events don't have so many sharp objects involved. Koby drops the armful of clothes, thinking briefly of another place, another room, another stack of clothes and Nami's hands on his shoulders, the scent of citrus.] Hello to you too. That's a lot of needles.
[The clothes are dumped, one slippery-silky cherry-patterned top almost slithering to the ground before Koby catches it. His glasses are up in his hair, keeping it back -- it's grown long enough now to curl a little at the ends, at the nape of his neck.
Then, making a face:] I'm not going to flirt with Shanks. We don't flirt. I ask questions and he says nothing and smiles knowingly, mostly. [From beneath the stack of clothes, Koby unearths a couple bottles of Smirnoff, because White Claw isn't a thing yet.] Are you piercing him too?