Chapter 13

Marshall was three days from seventeen and only a foot away from his full height the first time he received a call on Chuckles. After some embarrassing flailing he managed to figure out how to answer the snail.

(Which was something he never thought he'd say, even after all this time.)

It was Rouge, of course, and though he found the face-mimicking thing momentarily fascinating, he still had to sit there awkwardly for two hours as he listened to her gush over a guy she'd met who was strong as a giant, tall and dark and "dumber than a sack of cannonballs" but she didn't care because he was hot and made her laugh.

He was happy for her, he really was, but he was feeling rather uncomfortable listening to her squeal over a guy who was somewhere around twice her age...and probably a pirate. He thought he heard something about bounties during her rambling. He was just starting to wonder if he should be worried when Rouge said, "Anyway, I got out of one of the cabin boys that Roger is aiming for a treasure a few islands over - he tried to trick me of course but I got it out of him - so me and the others are going to use the Jet Dials and try to get there ahead of him and snatch it! Wish me luck!"

Click!

He stared at the now-silent snail, exchanging incredulous looks with the gastropod. Yes, he should definitely be worried.

The first time he encountered a News Coo, he and the bird stared at each other for several minutes, the albatross perched on his ship's railing.

An awkward pause, then, "So, how's it going?"

Caw...

"Not good, huh?"

Caw-caw.

"Sorry to hear that." A pause, "want some salmon?"

Caw!

He gave the bird some fish and slipped a thousand Beri into the News Coo's money pouch, muttering, "Keep the change," as he accepted a paper.

He was pretty sure he'd just made a friend for life.

Rouge and several of her crew had bounties now, he saw as he shook out the paper for the latest bounty listings.

Portgas D. 'Queen of Spades' Rouge, worth 60 million Beri. Not bad for a beginner, especially in the New World. He had a good laugh when he saw that her epithet was the same name as her ship. Her bounty picture was a picture of her face, caught mid-cackle as she swung a staff around. He squinted; that actually looked a lot like the Sun Rat staff he'd given her...huh, looks like she'd learned to use it after all.

Cumulos 'Whirlwind' Clyde, worth 30 million Beri. His picture was a close-up of his face looking coolly towards the viewer, several knives clenched in the hand shown in the corner of the image.

'Marksman' Minervon, worth 40 million Beri. Looked like the Olympiosan was fitting in with Rouge's crew pretty well. His picture was just a side-view of his face, partially obscured by the rifle he was holding, but you could still see one vibrantly blue eye.

The one he got the biggest laugh about was 'Ferocious' Frieda, worth 20 million Beri, especially since the name did not match her bounty picture at all. The image they used was of the matronly woman smiling kindly towards the photographer.

They were mostly wanted for robbery and property damage, with some attempted murder on the side- wait what? He read further. Ah, they'd raided a slaving ship headed for Sabaody, freeing the 'cargo' and on the way out Rouge had stabbed the captain. That explained it.

He'd need to call and congratulate them on the decent starting bounties, maybe hunt down some presents...

He folded the paper back up, shoving it in the pocket of his new coat as he mulled over gift ideas and wandered over to adjust his ship's course.

At one point in his journey, he decided that fuck it, he was going to get blackout drunk. It may have been the anniversary of the attack on his home island and he might have been tall enough that the bartender didn't ask any questions, but that was when he had his first taste of whiskey and discovered his inhuman alcohol tolerance. He made a tidy profit off of drinking contests that day.

He tested his tolerance for liquor on and off over the years, but by the time the Sky Island adventure happened he could easily drink two tavern's worth of alcohol and walk away without even a stumble.

The point he was trying to make was that it took an insane amount of alcohol to get him anywhere close to drunk, which was why it was so alarming that he couldn't remember everything that happened when he met up with Rouge again after she and her crew got their first bounties.

One minute he was laughing and chugging a bottle of rum that someone handed him, the next he was waking up on the beach with the sun shining in his eyes and his head feeling like a pissed off Sea King used it as a chew toy.

He groaned, pushing himself up with one hand and cradling his aching head with the other. He frowned, squinting in bafflement as he mentally prodded the hole in his memory.

...Why did he suddenly feel like he was regretting all of his life choices?

His blood ran cold, headache promptly forgotten as he bellowed, "Portgas D. Rouge, what in the name of Davy Jones did you do?!"

The sound of his fellow D's cackling was his only answer. Rouge ran away as he staggered to his feet, and he immediately charged after her, that devil of a woman laughing all the while.

It took the better part of two days, but he finally remembered what happened during the party (helped along by his recording dial having captured the entire thing):

He and Rouge had been sitting side-by-side in front of a bonfire her crew had started, laughing and reminiscing over when they first met and how they'd both changed, Rouge herself striking a pose and showing off how much she'd changed. She'd lost the roundness of youth, growing taller and slimmer, her hair growing longer until it brushed the backs of her thighs. She still had the same kind of flower in her hair, but that accentuated her looks; she'd become a beautiful woman, he admitted. He himself had nearly reached his maximum height, still toned and muscular and, he was proud to say, not an ounce of fat to be seen (he actually had washboard abs!). His skin was tanned dark by the sun, he still had all his teeth, and at some point while he wasn't paying attention, his hair had grown to the point that the tips reached the top of his backside.

They were both wearing sailor-worthy attire, Rouge a soft pink button-up and light brown trousers tucked into the tops of knee-high boots and he a white sailor's shirt, a dark purple sash, and dark brown, almost black pants that disappeared into the tops of a snazzy pair of Sea King-skin boots. Highly water resistant. He still wore a bandana to keep his bangs out of his eyes, more from habit than anything else, and he kept a sheathed knife tucked into his sash. Rouge carried her staff with her, not bothering with a harness.

He'd smiled, saying somewhat wistfully, "We did alright, didn't we?"

Rouge grinned back, agreeing, "Damn right we did!" She looked over her partying crew, which had grown by six members, four women and two men (one of which was a wolf Mink). Her eyes shone with pride as she looked at them before her gaze turned thoughtfully to the man next to her. The stirrings of a plan formed in her mind, her eyes gleaming, but unfortunately he was so engrossed in watching the party that he didn't notice.

As the night wore on, Rouge kept refilling his drink as the two of them exchanged stories - he teased her unmercifully about being named after her ship, and they shared a high-five over Rouge managing to snatch not only one but two treasures from under Roger's nose.

He was completely hammered by the time the party started winding down and absently wondering where Rouge got her alcohol when the woman pulled out a new bottle along with two cups. It looked a little like sake, but he couldn't seem to remember why that was important as she filled both cups.

"Drink up!" Rouge beamed, the flush of alcohol bringing a touch of redness to her cheeks and highlighting her freckles.

In his drunken state, he didn't see any reason not to, and he knocked back the sake without a moment's hesitation, Rouge following suit.

Now, he loomed over an only slightly repentant Rouge, arms crossed and an apoplectic look on his face. Rouge nudged the sand with the toe of one boot, pouting as she defended herself, "Come on, we're both Ds! Practically siblings already! I just...made it official." She finished lamely.

"If that was anywhere close to true, it would make your crush deeply disturbing." He retorted, for which she had no rebuttal.

A tense silence descended, and he let it drag on long enough she started to look nervous before he said, "You owe me so much, not just for that but for making me listen to you gush about your crush, which by the way I am judging you so hard about."

Indignant, Rouge opened her mouth, but before she could speak he narrowed his eyes. "So much judgement."

"....Fair." Rouge begrudgingly admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat.