deathsdoctor | 014 [Action/possibly voice]

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014 [Action/possibly voice]

[ Not too long before the draftees are returned to Luceti, all snug and cosily tucked in their beds (or in random and embarrassing drop-off points in the enclosure – whatever works), a figure cloaked and hooded in black staggers into the village. Weaving like he’s dead drunk – reality? Dead tired – he occasionally trips and catches himself…

… and then…

… and then just faceplants in a snow drift when it becomes one trip too many. He’s just going to just stay there for a moment. He feels like shit.]

Ughhhhh.

[Yeah. That’s enough of that. Picking himself up and dusting himself off, the figure reveals himself to be Trafalgar Law, freshly returned from one month full of missions.

Armed to the teeth. Worn to the bone and bleary eyed. And apparently lei’d.

… no, you aren’t imagining things - there is a tacky plastic floral garland hanging around his neck. Like you’d get on some cheap tropical vacation.

Don’t you dare suggest he’s been on one, folks.

And when he looks around, finally registering the Christmas lights and the general emptiness of the village, he mutters…]

Oi… what I’d miss?

[Go ahead. Spoil his ~~triumphant~~ tired return and tell him about all the draftees about to drop in. The draftees that possibly and quite probably need medical attention.

It isn’t like he desperately wants to find a bed and get some sleep. And it isn’t like he desperately needs that sleep either.

Not at all.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

....oi. Law. Good to see you again. [....he looks even worse than Ace. He walks over, trying to help him stand up.]

No offense, but you look like shit.

[An exhausted chuckle.] Feel like it. [He's standing... and wearily eyeing the signs of battle present on his fellow pirate.]

Were you in a scrap? You're not looking so... [no. Don't say hot. BAD PUN. NO LAW.] great yourself.

Want me to take you to the bar? [He glances at himself, noticing that he has a few more cuts and such than he thought he did. He shrugs.]

Something like that. You look like you need the help more, though.

Mother Ocean, yes [Oh god. BOOZE. This can only help. Land of unconsciousness here we come!

Wait... wait... Ace is Logia. Logia... WHY THE SCRATCHES, MAN?

... you are being peered at, Portgas D. Ace. SLEEPILY. Something is up.]

Tough guy I should be worried about later ?...

[... frown... tough guy... wait... uh oh. Is there Blackbeard problems afoot?

No, he's not pissed enough for that.

... getting a bad feeling about this...]

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[action] Done

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[action] Heading to wrap up, okay?

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[action] okay!

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Draft started back on the 15th, blizzard kept most of the village locked up.

...

... [Oh shit. Fifteenth? But what is the...]

... oh. Oh - [He's just going to censor himself there, though he doesn't know why he's bothering.] And today's the nineteenth, right?

... have they returned yet?

[He's not cottoning onto who's speaking. Not really aware of the date. And sounding scattered.

This is not a great sign. Especially if one knows how on top of things he usually is.]

Yes.

Not yet. Soon, hopefully.

[A small pause.]

Welcome back, Doctor.

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The draft, they're all returning now.

Where were you? [Law, he will make you go to bed. Don't push him, he's the mother hen of a crew of badasses. Sleep is good damn it. Although being Marco, he'll probably just pull an Ace and offer drinks.]

Missions. They had me for a month.

[Oh fuck him. They're returning now? But.

For god sakes, he's not up for this.

Screw the booze... where's the coffee...]

Damnit. Any injured or dead?

[Okay, okay. Priorities.]

That makes volunteering a lot less fun.

[A shrug.] I'm not sure yet, but it looks like you could use some medical attention yourself first, doctor. [Pretty much one of the highest notes of respect you'll get from Marco.]