[ his palm itched, hand instinctively wrapping itself around the grip of kitetsu, but making no move to actually draw it. it didn't matter where they were now, or that their raised voices might attract (even more) attention - the swordsman's focus had narrowed to a single point, unwilling to look past the man in front of him. he had that way of getting under his skin, riling him in a way no one else had ever managed to match.
he widened his stance, unwilling to concede even an inch. the cook could shove his entire face against his, for all he cared - he wouldn't be the one backing down. ]
Haaa?! Who asked you to?! You're one who needed me to carry your shit for you, you twirly brow bastard!
[ if someone like nami were to approach them, scolding them for their recklessness and public intimidations, sanji would buckle in an instant, abandoning any sense of competition to give in with obedience. but without an outside force strong enough to tear his attention away, priority stands with trying to maintain himself on zoro's level, and as he senses the other man's grip to his sword, his own leg remains just as prepared as his own weapon, surging with a sudden simmering fire from thigh to heel. ]
My shit!? I'm feeding your dumb mouth with that "shit", so how about I kick some damn respect into you!?
[ there was always a certain satisfaction in goading the cook, the suggestion of violence heating his blood as quick as any flame. this was where he thrived; his earlier frustrations were easily shrugged off, lest the weight of them end up slowing his blade.
that initial spark of fire was met with the sing of steel, two swords drawn and held at the ready. his lips split in a grin, smug that his prodding had had the desired effect. ]
[ sanji doesn't crave or hunger for thrill of a fight the way that zoro often does, nor does he take pleasure in it beyond its necessity as a form of protecting his crew, of keeping the ladies safe. yet there's undeniably a heat in his blood when it comes to fueling up towards a fight with zoro, even if he'd personally refuse to refer to it as excitement and more the depths of his own annoyance with the man.
it burns the fire around his leg hot, cracks the resistance of his temper, as he grits his teeth, eyes stern with the challenge, as the sight of zoro's grin grips at something tight in the inside. ]
I'll teach you a damn lesson, shitty swordsman—!
[ and he gives a spin on his heel, hurling up the force of his own leg, well aware that zoro won't simply take it, but driving all of his strength into the kick regardless. ]
[ the blow was met with the flats of his blades, the sheer force enough to make him dig his heels in, adjusting his stance.
while there was much to be said about the cook's physical strength, it wasn't what got zoro's pulse racing. they had faced strong opponents plenty of times - but none had been able to read him the way sanji could. by that same voiceless understanding they shared on the battlefield, zoro knew he didn't need to hold back. not with him.
for someone who had always communicated better through actions, there was a sort of honesty to it that the swordsman could appreciate. ]
Tch.
[ he shoved back hard with his crossed blades; attempting to knock him off balance was a wasted effort, but he could at least create enough space to attack properly. ]
What the hell could a perverted cook have to teach me about respect?
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no subject
he widened his stance, unwilling to concede even an inch. the cook could shove his entire face against his, for all he cared - he wouldn't be the one backing down. ]
Haaa?! Who asked you to?! You're one who needed me to carry your shit for you, you twirly brow bastard!
no subject
My shit!? I'm feeding your dumb mouth with that "shit", so how about I kick some damn respect into you!?
no subject
that initial spark of fire was met with the sing of steel, two swords drawn and held at the ready. his lips split in a grin, smug that his prodding had had the desired effect. ]
Why don't you try it?
no subject
it burns the fire around his leg hot, cracks the resistance of his temper, as he grits his teeth, eyes stern with the challenge, as the sight of zoro's grin grips at something tight in the inside. ]
I'll teach you a damn lesson, shitty swordsman—!
[ and he gives a spin on his heel, hurling up the force of his own leg, well aware that zoro won't simply take it, but driving all of his strength into the kick regardless. ]
no subject
while there was much to be said about the cook's physical strength, it wasn't what got zoro's pulse racing. they had faced strong opponents plenty of times - but none had been able to read him the way sanji could. by that same voiceless understanding they shared on the battlefield, zoro knew he didn't need to hold back. not with him.
for someone who had always communicated better through actions, there was a sort of honesty to it that the swordsman could appreciate. ]
Tch.
[ he shoved back hard with his crossed blades; attempting to knock him off balance was a wasted effort, but he could at least create enough space to attack properly. ]
What the hell could a perverted cook have to teach me about respect?