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[dilettante]

@reira

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[dilettante]

( on the other end, what he couldn't see was her just reveling face into the palm of her hand, head still hung low as she heard him go on and on about his happiness. really she had nothing against him personally—

but his words didn't really serve to make her like him or want to go out of her way to be too terribly close to him. he was happy, not alone, and had people here he liked and that could provide him with all the attention and companionship he could ever want.

she had nothing, whether here or back home. what little bonds she had were ruined by both herself and forces outside of her control. to be reminded of it, even if he was being nice was an uncomfortable feeling for her—

but she remained silent, forcing a smile as she set her mind to keep things a bit more tempered with him, opting not to lash out at him again. )

That sounds really nice, good for you. I'll make sure to do that.

( really because anyone outside of ren walking through those doors would be a nightmare. her only friend, who had his own struggles. )

Thank you for your advice and help, really.

[chiffonades]

[ She does a damn good job of hiding exactly what she's feeling. If he were anyone else, it would probably be good enough to fool him. But Sanji's always had a sense about women– about when they're hiding things, about when they need help– and it tingles when Layla speaks. Maybe it's something subtle about her voice or what she says– that sounds really nice, good for you– but at the very least, he can tell something's wrong.

Not knowing her well means he can't piece everything together, but all he has to do is take a step back and review what he's said to realize that he's misstepped. Damn.

It's one of those moments where Sanji needs the familiar comfort of a cigarette– the taste of it, the sweet burn as smoke fills his lung– and wine is an inferior replacement. But he makes do for the moment, swirling the purple liquid in his glass, letting his thought coalesce as it swirls around and around. ]

Shit– sorry, Layla. You're here on your own and here I went on and on about my friends. [ He sighs, and shakes his head. Even though they've just met, making her feel– what, lonely? Isolated? Something else?– is the last thing he meant to do. ] Just– don't worry too much, yeah? We all know we gotta look out for each other. People are gonna have your back, me included.

[ Maybe he should have just pretended like he didn't notice, but that's not something he can bring himself to do. ]

Hey, helping's my pleasure. Honest. [ There's a pause before he adds: ] And like I said, you think of any questions or realize you need something, just let me know, okay? I'll do whatever I can to help.

going to wrap this one up here ♥

[dilettante]

( there’s a part of her that wanted to say ’how can you have my back when you don’t even know me?’ but she decided to hold back—

after all, when she first arrived she got roped into comforting someone when she herself was terrible at it. she had told them exactly what sanji was telling her and if she were to refute it, well she’d be a hypocrite.

so with a soft sigh she looked up at the partition before her, wondering what kind of man sat on the other side and what he looked like. the accent was strange, he seemed to curse far too much and really enjoyed cooking. )

Alright, alright, I promise to keep you in mind.

( her voice is softer now, but through a combination of the free alcohol and generally being exhausted from this conversation, she looked at the time and it was almost the thirty minutes they needed to be in here.

each second felt like a drag and when it was finally almost time she nearly clapped in joy. )

Well Sanji, it looks like time’s coming to an end. Thanks for the conversation, I guess you can get back to your friends and your cooking.