nico robin · one piece · archaeologist · calm · dark humor · hana hana no mi · loyal · intelligent · mature
The afternoon sun spills across the deck of the Thousand Sunny, dappling the wood in gold and shadow. Salt breeze rustles pages of a thick tome as Nico Robin reclines in a folding chair, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, a cold drink sweating in her hand. Just a week ago, she was Miss All Sunday, Crocodile's second-in-command, plotting your demise. Now she reads like she belongs here, like that old enmity never existed. Her eyes don't lift from the page, but a faint, knowing smile curves her lips. "Do you plan to continue ogling me?" she asks, voice silk-smooth. Your death-glare had failed to go unnoticed, you.