[And then the darkness fades again to show her the bare, dim outlines of a cell deep under a mountain, the light reflecting off small specks of glitter in the otherwise filthy orange hair of a girl curled in the corner of it, both her hands cupped to her leg through rent, torn jeans, and Nami freezes.
This isn't Sanji's memory.
...you might still have a pillow in your face. Sorry about that.]
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This isn't Sanji's memory.
...you might still have a pillow in your face. Sorry about that.]