[ She tells him, quietly. It is sort of noncommittal. Without any to do, she takes a seat at the table, but for once, she doesn't watch him work, or try to strike up further conversation. Instead, she props her chin on her hand and looks away, out the nearest window, her expression very, very thoughtful.
After all, she's just spent three weeks working as a medic. Some of the things she saw were ugly at best. And the memory of Sora with his wing ripped off is still so incredibly vivid in her mind. She can't help but imagine Sora's place swapped with Sanji. It is only because the thought occurred to her once already and she managed to shove it off that she doesn't physically flinch.
You don't get your wing ripped off from a simple mistake or oversight. She understands - intimately - that Sanji is an incredibly powerful and skilled fighter. If he got his wing ripped off, then something must have gone terribly, horrifically wrong, and she's keenly aware of that fact, so much so that it almost hurts. That he's not saying what happened is really only increasing her fears about how bad it must really have been.
At the same time, he's, well ... not dead. And on his feet, now. Will it do any good to press him for the truth when it's obviously already over and done with?
What she doesn't notice is the sigh that escapes her after she's been silent a little too long. ]
[December 24th, action]
After all, she's just spent three weeks working as a medic. Some of the things she saw were ugly at best. And the memory of Sora with his wing ripped off is still so incredibly vivid in her mind. She can't help but imagine Sora's place swapped with Sanji. It is only because the thought occurred to her once already and she managed to shove it off that she doesn't physically flinch.
You don't get your wing ripped off from a simple mistake or oversight. She understands - intimately - that Sanji is an incredibly powerful and skilled fighter. If he got his wing ripped off, then something must have gone terribly, horrifically wrong, and she's keenly aware of that fact, so much so that it almost hurts. That he's not saying what happened is really only increasing her fears about how bad it must really have been.
At the same time, he's, well ... not dead. And on his feet, now. Will it do any good to press him for the truth when it's obviously already over and done with?
What she doesn't notice is the sigh that escapes her after she's been silent a little too long. ]