With her sweetened breath [ONE PIECE]

12 - TRY

The meeting room looks different, much different than the rest of the places of the Headquarters. The sun peeked through the open window, its harsh light painting the rooms in gold and white. Paintings hang on the wall, landscape and portrait alike, some dull and some so colorful it had hurt her eyes.
Lavander and roses adorned the places, making the room more beautiful than it needs to be.

It was the perfect contrast of what lies behind the entrance door, the shichibukai room felt like a safe heaven hidden on the depths of hell,
A single innocent door that hangs on the cold walls of the Headquarters that unknowingly holds a beauty many of the soldiers seek - comfort and warmth and everything that can make them forget about the harshness of the sea and the death that accompanies it.

It was ironic that the most beautiful room she had seen house the people who could paint it red in a matter of seconds.

She stood as still as an ancient tree, no hint of faltering or crumbling on the weights of her own body. Stiff as an ice as she avoid, with great efforts, the heated gazes of the warlords that sat somewhat peacefully on their own respected seats.

"Garp" her voice came cold, sending unknown shivers on the spines of those who heard it.

Garp stared at her, gaze burning on her own skin. He looks a little different from the Garp she knew, skin much tanner than before - courtesy of the sun that followed them at every second of their voyage, body more thinner, hair a little more grey, but the same large grin still depicted on his face.

She missed him, maybe, she doesn't know, maybe she does - she missed alot of people after all, some she doesnt even know the name of and yet she craved their faces all the same.

A flash of gold hair and blue eyes came on her mind.

"Yes? What do you need from me, doll face?" Garp had asked, grin a little bigger than before.

"I-"

"Its you" a voice came, a little breathy and a little quick. As if the words had came rushing out of his mouth without his own permission.

She had turned to where she thought the owner would be and it took everything she has to not step back, the room she's in now felt a little bigger than before, more brighter, less comforting, she could feel their eyes bore on every corner of her skin, as if judging the material of her clothes - whether it's good enough or not at all.

She met the golden eyes of Darcule Mihawk, she forgot how pretty it was and how endearing he is. Somehow he looks more even beautiful with sunlight painting his pale skin.

She just wished she saw him in a different settings, with less eyes and not infront of every Warlords.

She struggle to choose between acknowledging him or pretending she doesnt know him. Her knowing a warlord, specially one that is known for being reserved and pays more attention to his own wine rather than the people that surrounded him, might bring suspicion, albeit a little one but a suspicion all the same.

She frowned, averting her gaze from the swordsman rather than opening her mouth. Mihawk felt his chest grew cold, as if someone had put a hole on his lungs and pinch the nerves of his heart.

Why is she ignoring him?..

"Huh" Crocodile muttered next to him, a thick tabacco hanging between his lips. His hands, adorned with rubies and emerald rings, dance on the black box gilded with gold and silver that holds few of his cigarettes. The brand 'King Ground' depicted on its front.

Mihawk glance at him, golden eyes stinging on the smoke emitting from his burning cig. Crocodile met his gaze, a smirk crawl it's way up on his lips. As if teasing him.