"I like your tattoos."

The man on the opposite side of the cell bars just stared down at me, unblinking and expressionless. I found it kind of rude, seeing as he had been the one to wake me up with a sudden clanging of metal.

I was still exhausted. Sleeping hadn't been easy with a broken and battered body, and on top of that the last thing I had eaten were coffee beans almost three days ago. It was hard to even keep my head sitting straight on my shoulders.

Finally moving, Heat shuffled away for a moment before returning with a wooden cup, crouching to set it down on my side. Sceptical, I picked it up to thoroughly inspect the contents. It looked like water, and it smelled like water, but I wasn't sure.

"We don't poison people." As if reading my thoughts, the withered looking man spoke up, nodding towards the cup I held in my hand. That was enough for me, and honestly, poison didn't seem like Kid's style, so I threw my head back and gulped it down, nearly choking due to how dry my throat was.

"Thanks..." I replied sincerely, setting the cup back down close to the bars for him to take if he wanted. "Uh, so, has your Captain decided what he's going to do with me yet? I'm not trying to rush you guys, but I'm not really digging the whole slowburn death game.. "

Heat stared at me for a long time, and I began to feel just a touch unnerved before he sighed and stood up, a few of his bones cracking quietly.
"I'm not at liberty to discuss it. That's between Kid and Killer."

So I'm either dead or super dead. Great.

I was starving, but I didn't dare ask for food. Even more water would have been enough for me, but I knew my place. I was a prisoner, and against my nature I had to try and keep my dumb mouth shut.

The next few hours - or days, I wasn't sure - were spent slipping in and out of restless sleep, and scratching lines into the wooden floor, trying to distract myself from the horrendous throbbing of my wrist.

Eventually, I heard somebody begin their descent down the stairs, but before I could prepare myself for the violence of Captain Kid a strong, enticing smell wafted past my nose.

Out of the shadows walked Killer, a bowl in one hand and keys in the other. Opening the cell door, he approached me, stopping two or so feet away. As I was wearing his polka dotted shirt, he had since changed into a pinstriped tank top, which didn't suit him as much.

"I shouldn't be doing this, but here." Squatting to my level, he reached to place the bowl between us, and I leaned over to look at what he had brought for me. "It's just leftovers from dinner. It isn't much, but it's still kind of warm, so if you don't want to die, I suggest you eat it."

The leftovers were comprised of sauced spaghetti and a single, speckled meatball, sitting like the cherry on top. Without questioning anything this time, I snatched the bowl with my functional hand and sat it upon my lap, shoving a fistful into my mouth greedily.

It's really good...

Killer stayed where he was, studying me from behind his mask, and I eyed him suspiciously.
"Thank you for the food, but I don't want you to be nicer to me just because I'm a woman. I mean, you nearly broke my back over a desk, in an un-sexy way. Can't really backtrack now."

Resting his forearms on his bent knees, I heard a faint sigh from behind the striped helmet, another fist of spaghetti smashing into my mouth.
"I genuinely regret doing that, just so you know. I may be a degenerate, but I don't like hurting women who haven't attacked me first, whether they're strong or not."

Meatball in my gob now, my brows furrowed as I chewed and glared.
"I went for my pistol. You had every right to beat me up. The wrist, however...Fuck you, man." When Killer shifted closer, I hated the way I flinched involuntarily. It was weak, and just proved his point.

"Let me take a look at it." He ordered, but I just squished myself further back into the wall. Growing impatient, he held his hand out and gave it a single shake. "I'll rephrase. Show it to me or I'll break the other one."

I don't doubt you would...

Begrudgingly I did as he told me to, because I didn't want to lose my eating hand. Gently, much unlike how he had handled me before, Killer inspected the bruised, swollen skin and muscle, returning it to me when I hissed in complaint.

"It's definitely broken." He announced, as though it wasn't obvious.
"No, really? I didn't even notice!" I replied sarcastically, discarding my now empty bowl to the side. "Has Brat the Kid decided what he's gonna do with me yet? Kill me? Throw me overboard? I'm a decent swimmer, so I'd have a chance if he opted for that route."

Grunting as he stood, Killer brushed the grit from his jeans and picked up the empty bowl, uncaring that the residue of the sauce got on his fingers.
"He hasn't decided yet. Whatever he chooses isn't going to be great for you, and honestly, the only reason I'm trying to convince him not to torture you to death is because of that call you got from your brother."

Paulie? Why did that make a difference?

It was unexpected, because I had honestly assumed he was going to say it was because of my gender.
"Just deal with it a bit longer. Kid's stubborn, but he's receptive if things are done a certain way. I'd thank that chest of yours, too. It threw him off enough to quite possibly keep you kicking."

Instinctively, my arms moved to cover my chest, but my glare melted away, just a fraction. He was being nice to me, and I didn't deserve it. One of the many reasons I had always dressed in the manner that I did.
"You're not a totally horrible person, are you..?" I asked as he pulled the cell door shut behind him, double checking the lock once he had turned the key.

"That would be a matter of opinion..."

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***KILLER POV***

She's damn lucky to be alive right now...

Making my way up the stairs to the deck, I left the dirty bowl on the nearest surface before heading to the second set of stairs leading into the hull.

I had truly believed that she had been a teenage boy, deserving of whatever Kid threw at them for daring to steal from us, but now that I knew, things made sense. She had, poorly, attempted to talk her way out of a fight, knowing she had no chance against the strength of even one of us. Her weapons, too. Long range, so she'd never have to get too close if she found herself needing to protect herself.

There was no doubt in my mind that women could be strong. I had seen it first hand. This one, however, seemed to rely more on wit and cunning. It hadn't taken us long to figure out exactly who she was, or rather, who the government thought she was.

'Cloak-and-Dagger' Domino. A decent bounty, but nothing to write home about. It seemed as though she had been making her way across the Grand Line by disguising herself as a weedy little boy and hitching rides on ships. Port-side towns all over had been plagued by robberies for days, sometimes several weeks at a time before she moved to another location.

They had only managed to put a 'face' to the name when she had supposedly broken into a Navy base, getting her hands on ammunition, as well as a decent sum of money. The wanted poster photograph was blurry, but it was definitely what she had been wearing when we had locked her up.

I didn't bother knocking on the door when I heard the loud, whirring sounds of tools, letting myself in to see sparks flying off of whatever hunk of steel Kid was working on.
"You can't just leave her caged up forever. Pull your finger out of your ass and make a decision."

Kid's shoulders went rigid when I spoke, and the grating screech of metal against metal stopped. He turned, lifting his goggles and giving me his usual snarl.
"I don't have to do shit! Let her rot in there for all I care! Serves her right!"

I'd bet any amount of money he feels bad too.

Making myself comfortable leaning against one of his many workshop benches, I picked up a spanner, sighing as I tossed it in the air and caught it repeatedly.
"Okay, but it's a shame. She could've been pretty useful."

I knew how Kid worked, and when he gave me his attention in full I was sure I had him hook, line and sinker. He was the kind of guy who liked making treasure out of trash, so if I could get him to realise how our little prisoner could benefit them, there was a chance she'd get to keep her head.

"How so?" His voice had calmed now, and he mirrored my position almost perfectly, resting himself against his work bench.
"Think about it. We could always use more money, more treasure...more maps, right? The crew, yeah, we're strong, and know what we're doing, but you can't say we have the best track record of being quiet, or sneaky."

Take Sabaody for instance...

The redhead had his thinking face on, so I tried to drive my suggestion home.
"Until now, that girl's managed to steal from pirates, Marines, almost every walk of life, without getting caught. Think of all the information we could gather, too."

Raising his hand, Kid lifted a brow as the spanner I held began to twitch. Releasing it, I watched as it flew to his awaiting palm, where it belonged.
"That's a lot of words to say you wanna screw her. She's right there in the cell, so go for it."

Muttering a little profanity under my breath, I rolled my eyes, moving my head too so he'd know I had done it.
"Ha ha. Very funny. I'm serious, Kid. You of all people could keep her in line, and we can fill our pockets without having to switch focus from making you King of the Pirates."

There it was. That glint in his eye, every time anybody mentioned his dream. It was my dream too, after all. Nobody deserved it more than Eustass Kid.
"I'll consider giving her a chance. We'll test her at the next port, and see if she has what it takes." He nodded to himself, pulling his goggles back down so he could continue his work. "If she does a decent enough job, I'll keep her. If she fucks up..."

"...I could probably use her bones to spruce up the place...Either way, she'll be of use..."

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***I absolutely love that Killer likes cooking. He'd make a mean spaghetti bolognese.

Next Time: Scavenger Hunt***