[Sanji tried chatting for as long as he could stomach two assholes determined to keep him from Ozuma after he'd promised to keep his chill. He'd say as much if he didn't register the surge in aura from their previous non-contender. Oh look. Colin wants to literally dance? Fine by him, he can take a number after Sans. The pirate notes the change in the winds and stands there unimpressed as his hair whips over his eyes. Either a whirlwind or a sandstorm of some sort... and Sanji has weathered both on his journey, under more dire conditions.
The air dries, and Sanji feels his leg flare like brittle kindle. He looks at Sans like he’d appreciate nothing more than his blood on the walls.
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The air dries, and Sanji feels his leg flare like brittle kindle. He looks at Sans like he’d appreciate nothing more than his blood on the walls.
Both of them can just go rot--]