Your tongue is sticking out of your mouth in concentration as you try to utilize the chopsticks with your right hand. You know how to use them, but only left-handed, and this new orientation seems to be defeating you. You tried to just stab the food and shovel it into your mouth, but Kid was faster, and stopped you from doing that.

"I'm hungry." You insist, huffing even as you continued to try and do things the right way.

"It's incentive." Kid insists, between bites of food.

"Here, let me help a little." Killer offers, setting his container on the coffee table and shifting over by your right arm. "You know the theory, you just need to invert it." He takes the chop sticks out of your hands and starts from the basics. "This one is the one that you won't move," he says, placing it against your middle finger and locking it into place. "This is the one you hold like a pencil and move."

"Don't move that, move this," you repeat, focusing on getting your fingers to cooperate. Your tongue sticks out a bit again and you practice the motion a few times, making sure the right things move and the right things stay still. Your right hand had always felt like a rebel, but you were going to have to get along from here on out. "Will I be able to use chopsticks in my left hand when I get it?"

Kid grunts. "Yeah, with a lot of practice. Fine control can be a real bitch, and it's best to just expect you'll be ambidextrous by the end of this." He starts picking peas out of his food and setting them on yours. You hadn't even told him you weren't a fan, but he must've noticed you picking around them. "Your hand'll need maintenance and shit, so it's not like it'll be all good once you get it."

You start knocking peas away with a flick and Kid clears his throat. "Pick 'em up and move them that way, or suffer, Mouse."

"Bossy bastard, ain'tcha?" You grumble, picking up a single pea and moving it. In the time you get one off your food, Kid's put three more back on your plate. You growl a little, but keep at it, practicing the movements over and over. It only takes a couple minutes and you're out pacing Kid and actually managing a few bites of food before more peas show up.

"Effective," he corrects as you improve. "I'm an effective bastard."

"And a bossy one." Killer interjects and you laugh.

"Mm, is it safe to assume you'll get me to the court hearings... ah, along with trips to the prosthetic rehab?" Your face goes red, you feel like you're leaning on these guys too much. "I mean... I should probably sort out some sort of transportation for myself sooner rather than later."

"Don't sweat it, Mouse." Kid says, swallowing his latest mouthful of food. "It's an adjustment. When I offered to haul your tiny ass around, I was planning on doing so for a couple months at least. If you end up in another accident because you're not used to your hand, then yer back to square one and I've wasted my damned time."

"... Is that why you came back?" You question. You say it without really thinking about it, but you're going to have to address the whole Straw Hats thing sooner or later.

Kid side-eyes you for a moment and then grunts. "You're not actually a part of their crew, and they ain't even in the Metro proper right now. I just seem to keep running into people who know 'em and it's been nothing but a pain in my ass."

You can feel the mischief rising up in you as he says that, and with a grin splitting your face you pick up a pea and put it on his plate by throwing it. When it lands, you do it again, and again. You're trying your hardest to not giggle and ruin your streak.

"Thin ice, Mouse."

"Bullshit," you quip. "You're the one who decided to teach me this way, I think this is a perfectly acceptable outcome."

"Kid doesn't like peas either." Killer points out.

Your mouth goes wide as a glee-filled expression fills your face. Kid narrows his eyes and before you can react he flicks a pea into your open mouth.

"Ack!" gulp. "Augh!" Your suffering has Kid howling as your face goes red. It was, perhaps, not entirely undeserved. There are worse ways to eat a pea than accidentally swallowing one whole you guess. "Okay, I earned that."

"So, how are you managing so far?" Killer asks.

You make a face you can't hide. "I ruined almost an entire thing of eggs trying to make breakfast this morning, and ended up ordering in. I watched videos on how to do things one-handed, but I need kitchen utensils I've never had before and after this morning I wasn't exactly leaping at giving things a try."

"How's the stump?" Kid asks.

"I jammed it into the couch when I woke up this morning, trying to sit up, but it's not too bad."

"Mutant healing power not working?"

"Huh? Oh, no, it is. Does. Did." You hold up your left arm. Aside from the scars it doesn't even look raw anymore. "Just because it's visibly healed though, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It'll be tender for as long as it was supposed to be."

"That's a raw deal." Kid grumps.

You shrug. "The body heals, the mind takes it time, I guess."

The rest of your evening went well. Kid and Killer left, with plans to get you in the morning and take you out to breakfast. Whatever was prompting them to treat you so kindly, you were at least starting to get comfortable with accepting it.

When Monday rolled around even more news came in that made things better. Your work approved short term disability for a full 2 months, allowing time for rehabilitation with the new prosthetic. You also got a call from the job you were going to interview at before the accident. The secretary that spoke with you was very understanding and told you to feel free and reach back out when you were comfortable doing so. She insisted you not worry about any sort of timeline, noting that going through what you were going through was enough. There was no need to add concerns about losing an opportunity on top of that.

She also offered to send you information on private companies to help you find all the options you had for a new prosthetic. You thanked her for her time and assistance, and honestly thought you'd have to apply at that job now – if everyone was half as thoughtful and competent as Miss Violet was, you'd be in good company.

Monday afternoon Officer Coby called to inform you that the first hearing was Wednesday. He let you know when you'd need to be at the courthouse, the address and even offered to come pick you up. You declined the offer, saying that if Eustass needed to be there as well – and he did – that you already had a ride.

You were glad to have had all the good news happen earlier in the day, but afterward you sat on the couch and stared up at the ceiling after your call with Coby. The courthouse meant tension, and tension meant confrontation. You didn't have a visual concept of Vander Decken the Drunk, so you weren't sure what to expect, but you did know he had already declared he wasn't going to compensate you. Which means the hearing tomorrow was going to be a ball of bad vibes.

You phone rang after a bit and "RED" came up on the caller ID. You hit the speaker phone and grumbled some variety of greeting.

"Already heard then," Kid said on the other end with a gruff laugh. "We'll be by to pick you Wednesday." He assures you. "Need us to come over tonight?"

"Ah... hm." You look around your apartment, which suddenly looked very dull and dreary and empty. "Need's kind of a strong word."

"Oh?"

"It'd be nice," you admit, "but I can fend for myself if you got other things to deal with."

"One day girl, I'm going to get a word of greed out of you." Kid grumbles into the phone.

You laugh. "You might get sick of me long before that happens."

"Humph, we'll see. Get some rest, Mouse."

"Aye, aye captain."

You doze off on the couch after hanging up. You hadn't really intended to follow Kid's orders quite so literally, but the up and down of the day had apparently put you in the mood for a nap.

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A knock at the door pulls you out of your nap. You glance at the phone as you pull yourself out of the couch, and noticed that only about an hour had gone by. A second round of knocking happened, a little more forcefully than the first.

"Aye! I'm coming, hang the hell on." You grumble, opening the door and expecting to see Kid grinning back at you.

Instead, there's a tall lanky man who could only be described as greasy standing in front of your door. He wore an ill-fitting homburg style hat, and a cheap suit that was trying it's best to look tailored. His hands were gloved and the sunglasses he wore were mirrored.

"(Y/N)?" He questions. He's trying to sound neutral, but there's irritation in his tone.

You shake your head. "Nope, sorry." You answer flatly. There's something about this man that makes you wildly uncomfortable, and you don't know why.

You can't really make out his expression because of the glasses, and his lips aren't giving away much. After a moment of silence, you cock an eyebrow at him. "Good luck?"

"Yeah, sorry to be a bother, miss." He says finally, aggravation much more obvious in his voice as he turns away.

"No problem." You say as politely as you can muster and close the door. You keep your foot against it for a moment before you turn the lock on the door. You let the shiver you'd been suppressing run through you and go back to the couch.

You: Hey, can you come over after all?

Red: Just parked, Mouse.

You smile at the response. You can feel relief wash over you, just glad that no matter who the creep was, you weren't going to be alone for the next few hours.

Kid and Killer piled into your apartment after a moment and set bags on the kitchen counter.

"What prompted the text, Mouse?" Kid asks as Killer packed some pre-made meals into your fridge and freezer.

"Some greasy creep knocked on the door and wanted to know if I lived here." You admit. "He looked like if 'Skeezy' had a picture next to it in the dictionary, so I lied."

"Huh," Kid seemed amused.

"Hmmmm?" You prompt, giving him a look.

"Surprised you have some sense after all." Kid admits with a toothy grin. "You took to me an' Killer so fast I was a bit worried aboutcha." He ruffles your hair absently. "Keep expecting to come over and see you serving tea to some stranger or something."

You shove Kid's hand away with a indignate grin, but before you start bantering with him Killer interrupts.

"What did he look like?" Killer questions, he was tying his hair back and apparently getting ready to use your kitchen to cook for everyone. You liked watching Killer cook, not only was he really good at it, but his enjoyment of it was palpable. It was also the only time you saw the top half of the man's face.

"Greasy. Greasy hair, greasy skin. His cheap suit didn't really fit him, and the hat was just a poor choice. Past that though, hmmm... his hands were gloved, and he had mirrored sunglasses on." You close your eyes, trying to picture him again. "Hooked nose, goatee. I could point him out if I saw him again but describing him is tough."

"Five four, or six two?" Kid prompts. His tone and body language were disinterested, but there was something in his eyes that caught your attention, and made you realize they were worried.

"He seemed to fill the door, from my perspective." You admit. "Six five, maybe a little taller. You two gonna put up posters or something?"

Kid snorted and Killer's shoulders shook silently. "Nah, Mouse, just making sure we can keep an eye out."

"Aww, my knights in shining armor." You tease.

"Hydraulic powered, cold rolled steel armor," Kid corrects, purposefully smacking his prosthetic fingers together one after another, the force sending shudders up his arm.