"ᴅᴀᴍɴ... ɪᴍ ʜᴜɴɢʀʏ."

no tw :)

ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ:

New Marineford, the steel-wrapped heart of the World Government’s justice machine, loomed like a fortress chiseled into the horizon. Its towering walls gleamed under the blistering sun. Wind roared in from the sea, salty and sharp. The lower-ranked Marines darted through the base’s massive courtyards in tight formation; boots slamming concrete, voices barking reports, sweat beading on brows. Tension was constant here. Orders changed by the hour, drills rotated with the tides. But amidst the urgency, one figure moved at a different pace.

Admiral Borsalino strolled through the base’s central yard like a man with nowhere better to be. His long white coat hung loose over his shoulders like a cape. Underneath, he wore his golden pinstripe suit Yellow-tinted shades rested over his eyes, veiling his expression as always. He walked in slow, measured steps, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders just slightly slouched. Around him, Marines saluted hurriedly or diverted their path altogether, unsure whether to acknowledge him or leave him be.

He barely looked at them. His gaze lingered instead on the sky, then on the sun, then on the vending machine across the yard. He let out a slow breath through his nose, more sigh than anything else. "Aaaahh... man," he muttered, dragging the vowel like gravity itself weighed on him. His voice floated with disinterest, but just audible enough to make the two marines that were passing by quicken their step. "Sure am hungry..."