005↠ ACTION/VIDEO

[concasse]

[Hello, Luceti Residents.

Guess what? Someone turned Seventh Heaven inside out criminally early in the morning, meaning even the staff will be in for a surprise. There are tables and chairs grouped together in front of the restaurant, shielded from the sun by large umbrellas. That in itself is odd, but the real attention-grabber is how much food some of the tables are holding. Dinner platters, breakfast feasts, desserts, finger foods, and everything in-between - it's all right there, protected from bugs with see-through plastic covers. And right in front of this mouth-watering display is a sign:

Take What You Can Eat.

Really. There's even a stack of plates and silverware, along with some carry-home boxes in case anyone wants to shove their fridge full of leftovers. Dump the dirty plates in a bin off to the side; he his workers will get to it later. And should the gluttons of Luceti lay siege to the feast, no worries; Sanji's captain is Luffy, after all. He'll be replenishing the tables well into the afternoon, along with any other chefs who might be working that day.

Whether you see him inside the restaurant, bustling around the kitchen like a man possessed, or spot him outside restocking the food, everyone will find the Head Chef in a... really good mood for someone who took a few days off to recover from the trauma that is your AU self "dying". He's just all heart-filled smiles and affectionate ass-whooping, depending on your sex.

... Clearly he's gone mad. B|

And then later, journal announcement! Because why not:]

Oi, for anyone who didn't see -- [He turns his journal camera to the food display, sounding exceedingly pleased with himself.] Take what you can eat! There's plenty for everyone. If not, I'll have to make Luffy finish off the rest, and we wouldn't want that. [A-aha]

And for anyone who's interested, I'm looking for another waitress or two, maybe one more chef. [8D] Any help's appreciated, ladies~!

... And I suppose you other guys, too.

[It's a good day for some cookin; So come at him, bros.]

Comments

[fuckthemission]

[Doyle was just out for a run, but... there is a group of people huddling around the Seventh Heaven. Two whole pages of them. With that in mind he slips into the crowd himself, half-expecting a fistfight or something unrealistically dumb considering the setting.

Instead, he sees food. Lots and lots of food.]

... Drive-thru restaurant today. That's a new one.

[Once he actually gets his food and wanders in to sit, he notices... What.... Is wrong with that guy. He's prancing and twirling. Clearly, his chi must be perfectly aligned or something. When things've calmed down a little he'll offer the guy:]

Something about Friday the Thirteenth send you into a cooking frenzy?

[concasse]

... What does a Friday have to do with my cooking?

[Explain, random stranger who hailed him and is now keeping the chef from his ritualistic mating call. Explain.]

[fuckthemission]

Oh, right. Different worlds and all that. [Let me just take a bite of. Whatever this is. Hey, it's good, that's what counts.] On Earth there's a superstition that Friday the 13th is basically 'bad luck day'. I have a cousin who's birthday falls on April 13th, so she complained about it plenty.

[concasse]

... That's a really shitty superstition.

[But his interest in piqued] Does it have something to do with the number? Some weird back-story?

[fuckthemission]

Good question. [He rubs his chin at that, because man, they have dumb superstitions.] Ever since I was a kid, my old man used to tell me the number 13 was unlucky--as for why, it's gone back so damn far in history I think nobody even knows where the fuck it started.

[behold, my deadpan]

Maybe it's a conspiracy.

...

Or maybe earth is full of really dumb superstitions by a bunch of twitchy anxious people. Like how black cats can't cross your path, or... how walking under a ladder's shit luck.

[concasse]

Aaaa. Earth. [A planet he's heard before. Sanji isn't sure he ever wants to visit]

... Ladders and cats, huh? [He clucks his tongue, faintly amused by the idea that ladders can shoot your good karma in the balls.] Anything else I should keep an eye out for?

Maybe this shitty enclosure's been building up bad luck without realizing it.

[fuckthemission]

Well, I don't know a whole lot of 'em since they just seem like silly shit to me, but there's one where you can't open an umbrella indoors, or it'll give you fucked-up luck. Don't ask me where the hell that comes from, because I don't have a clue.

And there's also an old superstition that breaking a mirror gives you seven years bad luck; something about the mirror holding pieces of your soul or something.

[concasse]

... The shitheads on your planet don't get laid enough, do they?

[fuckthemission]

Yes and no. I guess every place has something weird as hell about it. And really, not a whole lot of people believe in that crazy superstition shit.

...

Though, I'm starting to believe I fucked up somewhere down the line, because I know I've got chronic bad luck.

[concasse]

You don't need to fuck up for your luck to be that bad. [God, he says it like he knows]

Life just needs to hate you. Simple as that.

[fuckthemission]

Well, I was trying to optimistically hope it was just something I did, thanks for ruining the spark. [He hardly sounds serious, of course.] The name's Rick Doyle. You got a name, Mr. Bad Luck?

[concasse]

Glad to be of service. [Good, because Sanji is hardly sorry. This guy's made quite a first impression, though. The cook offers up his name]

Just call me Sanji. [He jabs a thumb at the restaurant looming behind them] Head chef of this place.

[fuckthemission]

[I think you mean 'head metrosexual', you totally deserve a spot in the Backstreet Boys with that goatee and hair combo. JUST SAYIN'.]

So, you're the guy in charge of feeding hundreds of mouths? Seems like a pretty stressful gig, when you've got people who can eat entire plates and tables.

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around magically re-stocked stores, though, so maybe I just need a few more weeks.

[concasse]

[Please, don't be hatin' just because I know how to groom myself properly.]

Sometimes, but it's my job; I can handle a little pressure here and there. Besides, I've got my own ways of staying de-stressed in the heat of the moment. [It involves their asses and his foot... and try not to take that down a line of thought it doesn't belong in.]

Aaaah, fresh shitty meat, are ya? [He did have that patented New Feather smell]

[fuckthemission]

Fresh enough. [He crosses his arms at that, looking less than impressed with himself.] I've had quite the adventure from one place to the next. And here I was hoping this would be more of a vacation than it's turned out to be.

[concasse]

If you want vacation, head to the hot springs and don't come back down for a while. Maybe you'll miss the next wave of bullshit.

[fuckthemission]

... [Blink.] Hot springs? We have hot springs, and no one told me? When I could've been sitting peaceful there soaking up the H2O?

[concasse]

Yeah, they're up in the shitty mountains... but there's a teleporter that'll get you there in a second.

[Wow, his luck really is bad]

[fuckthemission]

Well, damn.

[SIGH SIGH. You have no idea how bad my luck can be.]

A teleporter. You mean... those things that take you from one place to another in the blink of an eye? The things that are fictional in my world?

[... That sounds really cool, actually.]

[concasse]

Those are it. The novelty wears off fast, trust me.

[... smirk]

But for that first time? Nothing like it. There's another one that leads to the beach, if you're ever in the mood for a dip.

[fuckthemission]

As long as you don't have a history of shark attacks? Some summer swims sounds like a great idea.

...

But considering the way this place works, I'm guessing there've been waaay worse than shark attacks.

[concasse]

... Actually. [There's a pause as Sanji gives this some proper thought, leaning his weight against the table]

Never heard of any attacks near the beach. At least nothing the shitty Malnosso planned.

[Then, said casually] Maaah, guess we jinxed it now.

[fuckthemission]

[He throws his hands up.]

Well, shit. Luceti's going to hate us now. We're life ruiners.

[sad, sad tale: the tale of two unlucky fucks.]

People're going to come back complaining about giant crabs or rabid starfish, now.

[concasse]

Tch. It'll be fine! So long as I cook 'em up before someone dies, no one will be the wiser.

[fuckthemission]

... You should at least test the starfish for rabies or something.

Do you cook weird-ass things often?