[No dice, Chopper. It's time for the Memory Roulette of Misery and Woe! Let's see what they've won, folks:
A deceptively simple and humble memory floods the scene. There's a small occupied bed nestled in the corner, the occupant's snores occasionally loud enough to vibrate the walls, and as the seconds tick by with no hint of activity, Sanji starts to hope that's all this is.
The creak of a door and the subtle pitter-patter of a ten-year-old's feet are what dash that futile wish. The boy doesn't approach the bed too quickly. Even as shaken and lonely as he feels, his chest too full from the night's unshed tears, he eyes the bed with a certain amount of discontent while standing in the middle of the room until he works out a compromise: he slides to the foot of the bed, hunches over with his arms drawn tight around his knees, and sits there.
[Action]
A deceptively simple and humble memory floods the scene. There's a small occupied bed nestled in the corner, the occupant's snores occasionally loud enough to vibrate the walls, and as the seconds tick by with no hint of activity, Sanji starts to hope that's all this is.
The creak of a door and the subtle pitter-patter of a ten-year-old's feet are what dash that futile wish. The boy doesn't approach the bed too quickly. Even as shaken and lonely as he feels, his chest too full from the night's unshed tears, he eyes the bed with a certain amount of discontent while standing in the middle of the room until he works out a compromise: he slides to the foot of the bed, hunches over with his arms drawn tight around his knees, and sits there.
Just sits there.
... Just sits there.]