[Now there's a name Sanji's damn glad to hear. Some of the knots gathered in his shoulders loosen to where his figure appears less etched in its own frustration, but there's still that underlying sense of displeasure on the chef's end; an itch he hasn't scratched yet.]
... You know I wouldn't poison you, right? [He knows the answer to that question - and at least when he asks it, his eyes are somber rather than judging.]
[Action]
... You know I wouldn't poison you, right? [He knows the answer to that question - and at least when he asks it, his eyes are somber rather than judging.]