This had been the worst week of his life.
That wasn’t true—but that was what it felt like. Miss Nami had gone missing a week ago. She hadn’t been returning any of his phone calls—he’d left about six messages now. He knew they weren’t that close of friends, and if it had just been her not answering his calls he wouldn’t have stressed as much.
But the missing poster in his hand made his heart hurt. Sanji touched the photo of Nami on it, and frowned. What could have happened to her? She’d been missing a week! Was she hurt? Had she ran away? Was she dead?
He was driving his coworkers mad, and was on his break—leaning against the wall outside after having yelled at Patty for getting sauce on the wanted poster.