no subject

[There's a small laugh that dies in his throat at the mention of the shirt; oh... right. He reaches up, one cheek full of sandwich, and tugs on the torn collar. Holds it awkward together to hide away the scarred skin underneath. The good scars and the bad--if only they were all welcomed. Not reminiscent of a price payed. Maybe he's just too mushy and sad about the thought.]

Thanks; I'd appreciate it...

[Gosh, Sanji. Spilling tea, ripping clothes. You're a tad hot-blooded tonight, aint' ya? Of course, he'll go ahead and start taking his food to the kitchen when the plate is cleared off (very very quickly; it's good). He huffs and enters the kitchen, and you'd better not have left any clues to birthday shenanigans around. :|]