How Dr. Hart-Steeler Saved the Logue Town Royal Revue
I literally had the idea for this in the shower during summer, so congrats.
9835 words; full disclaimer in that I’ve never watched a single drag competition, mostly because I don’t like reality/competition shows in general (except sports, and I wouldn’t say this is a sport while still acknowledging how Serious Business it can be), so please forgive me if something’s off or I did something weird like used your fave irl queen’s name or whatever bc I don’t even know how to cosmetics correctly let alone be this fabulous; tangibly related to Double Date from Hell (FFN/AO3), but I guess you don’t need to know much other than that Law and Nami are dating the same time as Cora-san and Bell-mère, to hilariously mortifying results; this took me so long to write partially due to Secondhand Mortification and a serious case of the Giggles or y’all would’ve had this back in, like, August lol; shout-out to Gen for suffering through me and this fic all these months, because ooohhhhh they be suffering
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Having never really considered himself weak in the ankles, Law was beginning to rethink his lifelong self-assessment as he slipped his feet into the absolutely terrifying shoes that had been shoved in his direction. With Nami on one side of him and Perona on the other, Law shakily attempted to stand, not enjoying the extra wobble he gained by simply standing still.
“What the fuck is wrong with you people,” he grumbled lowly. His girlfriend, however, scowled.
“You live in heels—I don’t want to hear it.”
“I wear boots, Nami-ya, not whatever torture devices these are.” He looked out over the rows of shoe racks and saw that the difference in height was… concerning. “Fucking hell—these have three extra inches than normal.”
“Well, yeah,” Perona scoffed. “You need to look your best, and they’re already doing wonders for your ass.” She hummed. “Well, what little you’ve got, anyhow.”
“Why are we even here?” Law groused. “Can’t I just order some online?”
“We are not,” Nami said, “because I am not going to have to deal with ordering shoes for your massive man-feet and then them not fitting properly. Turnaround is way too quick for us to need to worry about shipping.”
“I feel like a fool,” he grimaced as he continued to curse the integrity of his legs.
“We did not drive to the only shoe store in Greater Logue Town that carries wides in-stock for you to chicken out,” Perona scolded.
“I’m not chickening out,” he insisted sourly. “I just have way too much coordination to know first-hand why Cora-san practices walking in these things.”
“Well, you’re about to get a lot more familiar with them if we’re going to get you anywhere,” Nami said firmly. “Now go ahead and try to walk to that rack there.”
Two steps and Law went sideways into a shelving unit full of narrow-widths. Nami and Perona stared at one another—they had a lot more work ahead of them than they had feared.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
One month earlier…
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Pulling into the driveway, Law was glad to finally be home. He had been covering in Emergency for the past week, meaning that he was practically living between Logue Town General and Penguin and Shachi’s couch for exactly that same amount of time. Now all he wanted to do was relax, eat something, and fall face-first into his bed and not wake up until Nami came over in the morning. It was honestly all he could do to not head on over to 1000 Sunny Rd and fall asleep in her bed there instead, but knew that there wasn’t an amount of money in the world he’d accept to sleep in that house without her protecting him. He didn’t care what was going on—extremely loud sex could be happening right at that very moment and Law was certain that it wouldn’t even register with him.
…because, yeah, even though it was extremely weird and awkward that Cora-san and Bell-mère-ya were fucking, he wasn’t going to allow that possibility to deter him from sleeping in his own bed.
Instead, however, when Law entered the house, he heard the telltale click of heeled shoes against the kitchen tile. There were only two reasons as to why heels were in the kitchen, and since Nami’s scooter wasn’t parked outside…
“Practicing already?” he mumbled as he shuffled into the kitchen. A glance over at his foster father showed that, yes, the older man was in his highest pair of heels, looking ridiculous in his skinny-jeans and bedazzled mega-pumps.
“Hey, you know how long it takes me to get used to these,” Cora replied. He shakily took a mug of coffee from the counter to the table and sat down, breathing a sigh of relief. “Izou says this time is gonna be big.”
“It’s just the charity drag show,” Law noted. He shrugged off his jacket and began to root around in the fridge, wondering what had appeared in it while he’d been gone. “It’s the same thing every year: you and your friends dress as women and do skits and ticket sales go to whatever organization doesn’t hate you at the moment. What makes this year so special?”
“We’re expanding, for one,” Cora said. Law found some store-bought onigiri hiding in the fridge and put it on the table before grabbing himself coffee as well, his mug ceramic instead of Cora’s silicone. “This year we’re going to have not just Queens, but Kings and Enby Royalty as well. You’d know this if you attended the meetings.”
“I don’t need to attend committee planning meetings to know it sounds like the perfect thirst trap cocktail; Penguin and Shachi will be more conflicted than usual.”
“Belle’s participating.”
“Good for her.”
“So is Izou’s kid sister.”
“Isn’t being trans, but also a drag king, cheating according to some people?”
“She’s the one who demanded there be a non-aligned Royalty category, to alleviate that potential problem while still shaking things up,” Cora shrugged. “If Nami-chan didn’t already have your dick on lockdown, I’d say…” He stopped as Law gave him a deadpan stare. “What? She’s tall, she’s cute, she likes swords, she literally can’t be weirder than us…”
“This conversation is getting worse with each passing word that comes out of your mouth.”
“…andthewinnersoftheRevuearegoingonImpelDragRacenextseason.”
Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to him, but Law stopped shoveling tuna salad into his onigiri and stared at Cora and the whiplash-inducing topic change. “Come again…?”
“The winners of each category are going to be featured on Impel next season!” Cora repeated, stars in his eyes. “A chance to meet Iva themself…!”
“You know, I can just haul you over to Strawhat-ya’s next weekend if that’s what you want to do.”
“Now that’s cheating,” Cora said decidedly. “I want to meet Ivankov on a professional level, not as ‘your godson considers my son one of his besties against his will’. It’s lame.”
“…and you were going to tell me all about this when…?”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“Eventually.”
Law took a deep swig from his coffee mug, glad he was long-past the point where caffeine wasn’t going to do jack fucking shit except paradoxically soothe his nerves. “I should plan to go camping that weekend.”
“You wouldn’t!” Law simply stared at him and bit into his onigiri, too tired to banter. “We’d be down four of our most long-term staff!”
“It’s bad enough that every year Penguin and Shachi are in a weird philosophical rut about ‘what even is gender and sexuality’ for three weeks after the show,” Law reasoned. “You might get them for a few hours but I have to deal with the lasting fallout.”
“Fallout that is worth it considering we get a handful of normies who are trained medical staff and willing to beat up troublemakers to defend our honor.”
“Mmhmm—you can defend your own honor just fine,” Law scoffed.
“Not in these shoes I can’t.” Okay, he had a point there. “Please, son… for me…?”
Law sighed, his tank well-past empty. A grown man and he was still trying the pity card from back when he was a teenager freshly rescued from both the system and his brother’s grasp…
…because of course he was going to help. It was on his calendar, wasn’t it? Law took another bite of onigiri and sighed through rice and tuna. Only Cora-san.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was a few days later in the house at 1000 Sunny Rd and Law knew he was in trouble. Although she did greet him with a kiss when he arrived, his girlfriend was pointedly ignoring him as the afternoon went on. It was unusual for Nami to act as such, and he simply let the situation stew as he got roped into her friends’ other antics. Zoro had even pulled him into a sparring match in the backyard, which was even more of a rarity.
“Do you know what I did?” he asked as they were cleaning up. The younger man shrugged.
“It’s hard telling with the witch,” Zoro scoffed. “I get in trouble with her by breathing, so who the fuck knows? All I do know is that she’s been spending more time here than usual, so it’s probably something to do with something not-here.”
“I’m sure we’ve dealt with worse,” Law replied, exhaling heavily. “I don’t know how any of you handle her platonically…”
“By reminding myself that she’s the one who fronts bail,” Zoro reminded him. Law nodded; good point. They threw the equipment into the shed and trudged back to the house, where a plate of onigiri each was waiting for them on the counter. “Ah, shit-cook, how did you know?”
“It’s called not wanting your miasma of body funk hanging around my kitchen any longer than it has to,” Sanji deadpanned. “Now scram, both of you, before I kick your skulls in. You can only come back after you’ve showered.”
“Shower Day isn’t until tomorrow,” Zoro reminded him. Sanji cringed and flipped him his middle finger—clearly he was far from the mood for pleasantries.
“That is nasty, I hope you know,” Law said. “As a medical professional I’ve got to side with him on this one.”
“People aren’t designed to wash that often,” Zoro grumbled. He took his onigiri with him as he retreated to his room, muttering the entire time about Sanji being things such as ‘prissy’ and ‘high-maintenance’. This left Law to his own devices in the unusually-quiet house; most of the regular crowd was either at work or off chasing after Luffy somewhere.
Sighing, Law decided to at least take advantage of the quiet and get some stuff done. He went into the office area with his onigiri and found where he had placed his work bag. Sitting down on the pleather couch (all the better to wipe his excess sweat off later), he opened his laptop and began reviewing patient charts. He had a ridiculous amount of procedures quickly approaching to accommodate his time off to help with the Revue and he wanted to make sure there were no surprises. About an hour had passed when Nami came into the room and staggered in shock at the smell.
“Fuck… you reek like Zoro,” she grimaced.
“We were working out together,” he explained. Law watched as she grabbed her own laptop and hesitated, staring at him. “Like what you see?”
“A bit annoyed at what I see,” she replied. “Your dad has my mom being weirder than usual.”
“It’s no different from cosplay,” he shrugged.
“Usopp cosplays. Bell-mère is stomping around the house acting like she drives an extended-cab-short-bed pickup truck.”
“That’s different from how she normally acts how…?” he asked. Nami folded her arms across her chest and scowled sourly at him. “Hey, I’m not the one who was raised by the woman.”
“True, but it doesn’t change the fact that her practicing her act is more than aggravating.” She frowned as he shrugged at that; it wasn’t his fault that their parents were the way they were. “It’s one thing having some of the goobers around here get into it, but Bell-mère is another.”
“…and you’re going to take it all out on me? I’m insulted, Nami-ya.”
“You don’t look much insulted.” She ran her eyes up and down her boyfriend, trying to calculate how long she could stay cross with him specifically before her libido gave way. “You’re allowed in my room, but only if it’s to go straight to the shower.”
“…and where might I be allowed after that?” he asked, already standing up and reaching for the sanitizing wipes on a nearby table.
“Bed, where we can finish our work,” she wiggled her laptop for emphasis, “and then we’ll talk.”
He shrugged and popped the canister open with his thumb; he’d take it. “I’ll see you up there.” He threw in a wink for good measure, only for her to roll her eyes in exasperation.
“It’s like I’m dating an old man,” she whined playfully before leaving. She knew full-well he’d only try to prove her wrong later for that comment. In fact, Nami would almost place money on it.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Later that night, as Law resisted going to clean up his condom in lieu of being too damn comfortable, he was alerted to the concept of something being wrong as Nami sighed heavily. He hugged her hips a bit tighter and nuzzled her chest, glad at least she hadn’t stopped carding through his hair.
“What’s the matter?” he wondered cautiously.
“Just… still thinking about Bell-mère,” she admitted. “She’s been really happy since she hooked up with Cora-san again.”
“I can almost guarantee that is reciprocated.” He felt the gentle scrape of her nails on his scalp and nearly melted. “You know… this drag thing… it’s pretty harmless…”
“Oh, I know that much,” she chuckled lowly. “It’s just going to be a pain in my ass, like everything about you weirdos.”
“I resent that.” He took a playful nip at her breast and let her roll them both over as she giggled. She then sat on his midsection, partially pinning him. “What? I thought this was a thing because I bring just as much braincells into this house as you do.”
“Doesn’t make you not a weirdo,” she smirked. She gently pressed her knees against his shoulders and hummed as his inked hands found her thighs. “Good thing I like weirdos so much.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
“It’s going to cost you.”
Something told Law that he was going to enjoy paying the price.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It had already been a long day at Logue Town General when Law, Penguin, and Shachi took their lunch break. Bepo had lost the impromptu rock-paper-scissors competition, meaning the charge nurse was stuck back on the floor while the other three were jammed into their usual booth at Don Silver, the restaurant empty aside from a few other sets of scrubs and the occasional delivery courier.
“Cora-san wants me to remind the both of you that the charity show is coming up,” Law said. He was stretched out on his own side of the booth while the goobers sat on their own as they demolished the breadbasket. “He signed us all up again.”
“Should’ve known this was how our life was gonna be,” Penguin muttered through a mouthful of bread. Law raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “The first time we were allowed over to your dad’s, he was literally practicing his routine.”
“Can you fault him for taking advantage of his semi-androgynous profile?”
“No, but I feel like we’ve worked every single one of these charity shows since we met him.”
“Not to mention the fact that we can’t even meet women at these places because something, something, something, no fraternizing with the customers for our own safety on orders of Cora-san,” Shachi mentioned. “Come on; this is, like, a complete drag. Figuratively. And literally. And several other qualifiers.”
“Besides, we show up with a literal bear; how can we compete with that?”
“That’s your problem, not mine.” Law eyed Gin as he came over with their respective meals—burgers for the techs, a shawarma wrap (no pickles) for the surgeon, and a giant plate full of fries—and put his legs down so the proprietor could slide into the booth next to him.
“So, I hear there’s a ripple in your old man’s charity show,” Gin grinned. It would have been menacing if it weren’t for the fact that Law could probably flip the guy over with one hand.
“Since when have you cared about my dad’s charity show aside from letting us put up a flyer for it?”
“Since it’s apparently a really big deal this year, but also will make Blackleg extremely uncomfortable if I show up.”
“If your place wasn’t so tasty and conveniently-located, I’d say you’re an ass for that comment and several others,” Shachi frowned around his burger. Gin shrugged.
“You know my beef now; like I give a shit.”
“You’re such a sore weirdo,” Penguin added. With his sight line towards the door, his eyebrows shot up and he kicked Law in the shin to get his attention as the other man was picking at the fries. “Look alive: Bepo’s about ready to have a crisis.”
“You people are going to be the death of me,” Law groaned. He heard the sleighbells on the door chime and before long Bepo was standing at the booth, looking indeed as though he was about to break into hysterical sobbing. “You know I have a pager and my cell phone, right?”
“I don’t think this is something that you want to hear over the phone,” Bepo said, wringing his paws. “I just got a call from Marco down in the ER, and… and…”
Shit—that wasn’t good. “…and…?”
“He says your dad’s being less dramatic than usual…?”
Panicking, Law pushed Gin out of the booth and ran out of the restaurant, glad that it was literally in the hospital’s shadow. He hurried past security and into Emergency, where he found one of the most horrifying sights possible:
Cora-san. Laid up in a hospital bed. While Marco instructed some sap doing clinicals on how to properly wrap a freshly-set broken leg in a cast.
Oh hell.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was two days after Cora-san had been released from the hospital and Law suddenly found that his father’s milquetoast cookie-cutter suburban house had suddenly become Drag Central earlier than normal. He didn’t mind his foster father’s friends from the drag circuit—in all honesty, they were some of the nicest people he’d ever known—but at the same time, there was way too much overreacting going on and he did not wake up with enough wherewithal, mana, or general patience that morning to deal with much more than the drama queen he actually lived with.
“There has to be something we can do,” Izou frowned as Law was bringing a tray full of drinks into the living room. It was only Izou, his younger sister Kiku, and Marco at that point; the three of them plus Cora-san were essentially the core of the planning committee and had shooed out the others by that point. “Our regulars are going to expect Rosi Thoughts—if she doesn’t show up, then it could be a disaster.”
“This one imagines there must be some sort of way to do a routine from a wheelchair,” Kiku said. She pondered the concept carefully. “The venue is handicap-accessible, after all…”
“Only for the patrons,” Izou noted. “You haven’t been behind stage yet, but the back wasn’t built with this sort of thing in mind. We’re just going to have to figure something else out.”
“I can do the routine in crutches,” Cora-san offered. He accepted his no-spill tumbler from his son and pouted. “I don’t want to let down any fans!”
“No,” Law said firmly. “Marco-ya showed me your break—it won’t be well enough for a walking cast by then.”
“Patient confidentiality!” Cora-san gasped, pointing at Law in horror.
“You’re my foster father, not my patient. Besides, it would be Marco-ya you’d have to point that finger at… if I wasn’t listed as your emergency contact, that is.”
“He’s got you there, yoi,” Marco chuckled. He was about to continue when the front doorbell cut him off. “Huh… I wonder if that’s Thatch coming back…”
“I got it; I got it…” Law grumbled. He went to the front door and opened it, only to be met by a person in a baby-pink suit, a bowlcut, and a trowel of makeup. “Auditions are closed; they’ll get back to you.”
“Where are they?!” The new person barged their way into the house, pushing past Law and not even caring that he was there. They caught sight of the group sitting around the living room and their face lit up. “Ah! Here must be the belles of the ball—Shenix Fyre, Ganmodokidoki, and…” their eyes landed on Cora-san, “Rosi Thoughts.”
“…and who the fuck are you?” Law asked. Another person came in, this one dressed in orange and white while looking decidedly feminine.
“My name is Inazuma, and this is Bon-chan,” she replied. “We’re here as representatives of Impel Drag Race. We have reason to believe that your production might be in jeopardy?”
“What ever gave you that idea?” Kiku giggled sweetly, trying to throw them off the scent. Bon-chan gestured at Cora-san’s leg with a flourish.
“We’re not here to call the show off, but we are here to inform you that you need to make sure the show goes on with the same amount of contestants,” Bon-chan replied importantly. “We are planning on doing an entire episode revolving around local and independent events like the Logue Town Royal Revue and to have anything less than the nine contestants we were promised is a breach of contract.”
“…but this isn’t someone dropping out because they’d rather go on vacation,” Izou frowned.
“Indeed, yoi,” Marco chimed in. “I work at a hospital—what if I came down with something two days before the show?”
“It doesn’t matter—it’s in the contract,” Inazuma replied. “We’re here as a courtesy to make sure you are aware of the stakes and know that it’s no offense and standard procedure. Iva wants to have a contestant from your revue, so they’re giving you a fighting chance.”
“The show is only a few weeks away,” Cora-san frowned. “We can’t just cook up a replacement that fast! Auditions were months ago! We’d have to contact everyone again!”
“Then you might have to go on an accidental breech of contract and try again next year,” Bon-chan said. “It would be your first infraction, so it’s not like it’s a weighted disqualifier…”
“I’ll do it.” The entire living room stared at Law and all the breath felt as though it left his lungs; fuck, he said it out loud. “I… I’ll take his place. Make it three in the category again.”
“…and you aaarrreee…?”
“Law, kiddo, you don’t have to…”
“I’m his kid—if I take his place in the show, will it still be a breech of contract?”
“No.” Bon-chan pursed their lips and looked Law over. “Ever perform?”
“No, but I’ve been helping out with the show since I was fifteen, and that has to count for something. If I win, then he gets to go on Impel.” He gestured at Cora-san, who was too choked up with tears to say anything. “Let me be a stand-in—it’ll work.”
“A child sacrificing for their parent in order to keep the show going… I love it!” Bon-chan squealed, mood shifting violently. They spun around, nearly knocking over drinks in the process. “We’ll let Iva know right away!”
“We’ll look forward from hearing from you soon,” Inazuma nodded. She deftly dodged Bon-chan as they somehow pirouetted out of the house, leaving the committee more startled than anything. They all turned towards Law, who went deathly pale as his brain caught up with him and the events of the past ten minutes actually sunk in.
Oh… oh no… what did he just do…?!
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Nami parked her scooter outside the well-kept inner-city apartment complex that served as Goober Central; for some reason she was summoned here and not her boyfriend’s dad’s place. Why, she had no idea, but she entertained it for the time being, since it was Bepo who called. She couldn’t say no to Bepo, not really. It was kind of like saying no to Chopper—it just wasn’t done.
Heading into the building and up the stairs, she went to the second-from-topmost floor and over to the door at the end of the corridor, it opening before she even had a chance to knock.
“Good, you came,” Penguin said. He looked out past Nami, attempting to see if she’d been followed. “No one else?”
“You said it was ‘of the utmost importance’ and that Law was ‘in danger’,” she deadpanned. “What sort of nonsense do you have him roped into this time?” Nami entered the apartment to find her boyfriend laying face-down on the living room floor, Bepo and Shachi attempting to coax him out of some sort of rut.
It was a damn good thing the sex was so good or this would be ridiculous.
“Alright, what’s going on that I have to fix?” she asked as she sat down on the couch. Law remained still, though she could feel him cringe at her voice. “I take it has to do with Cora-san, since we’re here and not at his place?”
“More than just Cora-san,” Shachi said gravely. Nami rolled her eyes.
“Well, since it doesn’t involve Bell-mère dropping out of the Revue, I don’t know what it could possibly be about.” She watched as Law shifted his head so that he was looking at her shoes.
“People from Impel came to warn the Revue’s organizers about a potential breech in contract with him switching to being a judge,” he grumbled.
“…and this has you laying on Penguin and Shachi’s un-vaccuumed carpet because…?”
“I volunteered.”
She blinked at that. “You volunteer every year…”
“No: I volunteered without thinking about the consequences.”
Oh.
“He might’ve well as called himself a sacrificial goat the way Cora-san told it over the phone,” Penguin said blithely. “Man’s fucked.”
“…and what does that have to do with me?” Nami asked. She knew, of course, but wanted to hear it from her boyfriend’s mouth.
“I need your help, Nami-ya,” he groaned. He shifted his head so that he could look up at her, all sad and pathetic and absolutely delightful. “I need help.”
She grinned at that and pulled her phone from her purse. “You’re going to need a lot more help than just me.”
“So… you’re not angry…?” Bepo wondered. Nami smirked as she fired off a couple texts.
-----
Shopping trip?
I got a project. You’re gonna love it.
-----
“Angry? I might just get some entertainment value out of this whole debacle yet.” Her phone chirped and Nami shifted her weight from one hip to the other as she snapped a photo of her puddle-boyfriend and sent it off. Less than ten seconds and she got a reply.
-----
Ooooh… finally accepting pointers?
-----
Not the kind you’re thinking. Still have those trial palettes from when you got the idiot those beauty boxes for the hair dye?
-----
Yes but…
…
…pick me up in hald an hour
*half
ykwim
-----
“We’re in luck,” Nami chuckled. “We’re going to be accompanied by an expert.”
Law wasn’t sure whether that made him feel better or worse.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Shopping with Nami and Perona had been an interesting experience, to say the least. Law had no idea who the cavalry was until they rolled up to the weird mansion that was in a densely wooded plot in the middle of what was otherwise zoned for commercial property. Haunted land bought cheap enough to afford the zoning board’s subsequent bribe, so the story went, and it honestly made sense given who lived there. When the distinctively large pink ringlets came bouncing out of the house and down the circular drive, it became apparent that he was going to be in for a time.
“It’s a good thing you got a hold of me,” Perona said importantly as she got into the back seat of Law’s car. “It’s bad enough your dad tapped the rest of Zozo’s weirdo friends to round out his revue, but this? This is a project I’m definitely interested in making happen.”
“Just tell me where we’re going,” Law grumbled.
“That depends on what your persona is going to be,” Nami said. Her boyfriend stared at her, seemingly confused. “What? You mean you don’t have a persona picked out?”
“I was thinking we could just get stuff for me to imitate Cora-san’s act…?”
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” Nami tutted. “Rosi Thoughts might become a legacy character, but only after the original retires, not gets temporarily sidelined as one of the judges. We need a brand-new queen for this scene.”
“Why do you think I’m here?” Perona smirked. She looked smug as a fed cat in the rearview mirror. “We have to come up with something with glamour and pizzazz if you’re going to even have a shot.”
“I’m not glamour or pizzazz—I’m a disturbingly young surgeon who still lives with his foster father and has a bunch of weird friends who are way too cheerful and energetic and loud to be worth it if it weren’t for the crucial facts that A) they actually put up with me, and B) that’s how I met Nami.”
“How about we go with that?” Perona offered, refusing to unpack all that. “The surgeon thing.”
“Marco-ya is also a doctor and his thing is a pineapple-phoenix.”
“…and it’s not like we have a lot of time to develop a distinct act for you,” Nami reasoned. “Maybe if we had two months, but not under two weeks.”
“I draw the line at Halloween-store ‘sexy’ outfits,” he warned. “I don’t care what it costs me; I will leave you both behind.”
“Who do you think we are? Amateurs?” Perona gasped in false indignation. She leaned back into her seat and buckled up. “Just drive, loser. I’ll tell you when we need to make a turn.”
So he did, and Law was taken to all manner of stores in the hunt for supplies. Between his girlfriend and… their… mutual friend’s… sister (…? Their femme style consultant…? Nami’s torture expert…?) he had all sorts of things held to his face and body and even had to try on no less than ten pairs of hellish shoes. By the time they walked into the final store of the afternoon—the scrubs store—he was desperately thankful for the normalcy involved.
“Now this is more something I’m familiar with,” he breathed in relief. He took solace in the rows upon rows of women’s scrub tops that were no different in make and design than the men’s on the other side of the aisle. The only real differences were the patterns and how they were sized. “They probably shouldn’t be the same as what I wear at work, so it—”
“They need to be cute,” Perona insisted as she idly sorted through some patterned tops. “We’re already trying to negate the not-cute things about you, so we’re gonna need to try hard.”
He glared at her, suspicious. “What about me isn’t cute?”
“Those tattoos, that scowl, the fact you look like a scarecrow…”
“Izou-ya has a tattoo sleeve and Cora-san is even scarecrowier than me.”
“…and you’re still not cute!” Perona huffed. She flitted her way over towards some bat-print scrubs while leaving Law to sulk. Nami giggled quietly at the entire thing.
“What…?” he grumbled. “I bet you’re enjoying this.”
“I am, but not in the way you think.”
“I thought you enjoyed torturing me, Nami-ya.”
“What we do in the bedroom has nothing to do with it,” she smirked. His face went red at that—busted. “It’s just nice having a day like this, where I get to go around and dress you up.”
“…but Ghost-ya…”
“You know it has nothing to do with Perona, even if she is giving us a neat perspective.” He rolled his eyes and she playfully nudged him in the side. “What? She can sew and Usopp is too busy with helping both Sanji and Robin…”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted quietly. “The guys just… they aren’t really equipped for this. Working the show, yeah, but…” He rubbed a piece of fabric between his fingers as his eyes lost focus. “Not just any girlfriend would call in the cavalry when she learns her boyfriend is taking his father’s place in a drag show.”
“When you put it like that, you’re absolutely correct,” she said. Nami popped up on her toes and kissed the corner of Law’s mouth. “Just be glad I’m not charging you for my time.”
“I know my payment is going to be how I least expect it,” he said. “You just have that way about you.”
“…and you know it,” she grinned. It made him feel a little better, admittedly, and he bent down to press a proper kiss to her lips. He was nearly there when they heard Perona clear her throat; she was holding up a tight-cut scrub top that was hot pink and decorated in black hearts.
Not just no, but fuck no.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was two days before showtime and everything was in a panic. Law was already off work, meaning he had been chasing Cora-san around the house all morning and afternoon as the taller man tried to wander around on his crutches doing things for the Revue. He eventually needed to threaten his foster father with packing everything up to go to Izou’s tiny apartment in Logue Town-proper. Since they all had sworn that they’d never do that again as long as Cora-san still had his house, the man sulked on the couch with his leg propped up all until Marco left carrying the last tote of decorations. Law helped his coworker out to the car and swore to be at the venue the following day to help unpack, retreating back into the house once the vehicle revved up. He couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as he saw Cora-san pouting right where he left him.
“Your face will stick like that if it’s not careful,” he teased as he closed the blinds.
“It won’t.”
“You’re not going to listen to a medical professional?”
“Sometimes they’re wrong.” Law looked at his foster father and sighed, already regretting what he was about to offer.
“I’ll get together some snacks and maybe you can watch me figure out my makeup?”
“I’ll do it, but I’m still angry with you,” Cora-san grumbled. Well, it was progress. Law helped him to his feet and went to the kitchen while his dad attempted to navigate the stairs with crutches. By the time he brought the tray of tea and sandwiches up to his room, it looked like Cora-san was already nursing two extra bumps to his head and elbows. “The turn in the hallway moved.”
“Mmhmm… now you sound like Roronoa-ya,” Law hummed. He balanced the tray on a stack of boxes and handed Cora-san his tea before filling his own Sora, Warrior of the Sea mug. “So what do you think of the palettes Ghost-ya and Nami-ya got?��
“I think I like this one best,” Cora-san said, handing his son one of the makeup palettes that was sitting on the bed. “Brings out your eyes, I think.”
“Thanks.” Law sat down at the vanity mirror and turned on the lights, preparing to put on more cosmetics than he’d ever had on in his life.
“Can I ask why your cute girlfriend isn’t helping you with this?”
“She’s helping Ghost-ya with my outfit—wants the final product to be a surprise,” he admitted. Law dug through the debris that was littering the vanity and found his old foundation, shaking the bottle well before opening it back up. “Shachi showed her pics of me as a teenager already—she knows I’m not helpless.”
“You were really cute then,” Cora-san recalled. “Do you remember why you had me teach you?”
“…to hide my Amber Lead spots.”
“No… it was because you wanted to have the coolest Halloween costume in your new school. Hiding the spots was only a bonus.” He watched the younger man put on concealer and foundation, layering slightly thicker than he normally would. Blush came next and Law glared at his reflection.
“I feel ridiculous,” he seethed.
“For lack of a more… dignified term, we’re essentially a modern variation on clowns,” Cora-san offered. “Feeling ridiculous is baked in—it’s just all about how comfortable you feel while ridiculous is the thing.”
“…but I have never worn makeup like this.”
“No, you haven’t.” The older man chuckled quietly as he watched Law put on eyeshadow up to his eyebrow, scowling at his own efforts. “You know… I’m very proud of you for doing this. I know it’s well out of your comfort zone.”
“You’ve done similar for me, and would do it again.”
“That’s… that’s not the point.” He placed a hand on Law’s shoulder, the younger man stopping to turn and look at him directly. “You barely wanted anything to do with this when we first moved here.”
“I was a young teenager who had just gone through hell; I didn’t want anything to do with anyone.”
“…and now you’re here, doing this, while your cute young girlfriend helps get your costume together. I never thought we’d get anywhere near this.”
“Don’t get too sappy on me or my makeup will run and then I’ll have to start from scratch,” Law warned. There was no venom in his voice, simply experience. “Now, what do you think I should do with my eyelashes? You aren’t going to get out of this easy, Rosi.”
…and oh, ideas were had.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was finally Revue Day.
Despite the fact the show was going to be at seven in the evening, Law pulled up to the back door of the venue just before eleven in the morning, car full of the last bits of costuming, decorations, prepwork, and Cora-san. Penguin and Shachi were already there, very clearly faking a smoke break as they leaned up against the wall of the building.
“Who all is here?” Law asked, rolling down his window. Penguin shrugged.
“Some of Pops’s gang was already here with Marco when we showed up,” he said. “If Izou and Kiku are here they just came in through the front door, Straw Hat’s crew beat us all here…”
“…even the kid; he’s doing homework at the bar,” Shachi interrupted. “Marco’s about ready to kidnap and adopt him.”
“A common sentiment,” Law nodded.
“…yeah, and, at least most of the contestants are here,” Penguin finished. He took his unlit cigarette and handed it to Shachi, who put them back in the pack and pocketed them. “I think all we’re really missing is the two of you, the Drag Sibs, two other contestants, and Bepo, but the buses are running late due to that festival in Shells District.”
“That’s probably what’s keeping Kiku,” Cora-san said, leaning towards Law’s window. “Izou got his motorcycle fixed, so if anything’s keeping him it’s traffic.”
“Try telling that to Pops’s gang,” Shachi droned, rolling his eyes.
“Alright,” Law put the Polar Tang in park and killed the engine, “I’m gonna get Cora-san in while you two start unloading. It’s all the usual stuff from the house, so nothing too weird.”
“Weird today is a bare-faced businessman in a cheap suit,” Penguin quipped. Law pretended to not hear that and popped the trunk before getting out of the car and grabbing Cora-san’s crutches so the older man could attempt to support himself while he got the costuming supplies.
“Boys, Law is bullying me,” Cora-san whined.
“You don’t even know the definition of bullying, you wet cat of a man,” Law sniped. There was no venom in his voice, however, as it technically fell under the auspices of pre-show banter.He heard twin engines and sure enough: Bepo and his moped and Izou and his pristine vintage Shandoran motorcycle came into the alleyway. “About damn time.”
“Sorry I’m late!” Bepo cried. He and Izou parked their rides in the same space, looking nearly comical next to one another. “Had to pick up batteries on the way and the line took forever.”
“You know we have batteries here,” Law replied. “Marco-ya alone should probably switch to a twelve-volt.”
“Yeah, I know, but I still feel weird taking them,” the bear frowned. He adjusted his backpack full of photography equipment before offering a paw to Cora-san as the man wobbled dangerously on the edge of a pothole more a crater of rubble than anything. “How are you feeling today, Cora-san? Have you been keeping your leg elevated at home?”
“As much as I can,” he replied, with Bepo seeing right through the lie. Law stood next to the car as Penguin and Shachi quickly ran some stuff in, with the pair coming out so they could all grab the last of the stuff together.
“If it’s any consolation, Sanji’s set himself up in the kitchen and has been cooking and baking since five so we can all stay fed with his cooking specifically while he’s competing,” Shachi offered. Law raised his eyebrow at that.
“How’d he get in at five?”
“That’s for Straw Hat to explain, not us,” Penguin scoffed. He stuck his foot into the ajar door and swung it open, careful to not disturb the piece of concrete that was serving as a stopper. “It’s best not to think about it, right?”
“Yeah, true.”
Once Law got into the building he knew it was going to be a much more exhausting time than the year prior. He could smell Sanji’s cooking in the air, which was all sorts of heavenly that they were going to need to filter out before the doors opened at six. Marco and Izou’s extended friend circle all seemed boisterous as ever, the Straw Hats and their crew mixing together well. Even the ones who Law had only seen in passing due to the auditions and last-minute materials pickup were having a great time as they helped set up, with both Luffy and Ace latching themselves onto the two non-Kiku Royalty contestants.
“Oh, it’s Torao!” Luffy gasped as he saw him put down a box. He bounded over, a young rose-haired man in-tow. “Torao, this is Koby!”
“I know… he’s been at my house.” He then turned to the newcomer, who seemed quite nervous. “He’s not giving you a hard time, is he?”
“Luffy-san’s really nice… I don’t mind…”
“Yeah! Koby and Yama-bro are our friends now!” Luffy gestured back to Ace and the other non-Kiku Royalty contestant, both of whom were laughing at something Thatch said. “They’re both gonna come over to the house next weekend! Won’t that be fun?”
“It will be if you don’t scare them off first.” Law looked and saw Nami frowning as she went up to them. Luffy took that as his cue to bring Koby over to the snack table, where Sanji was setting up a new round of food. “I swear, if he keeps this up, he’s going to adopt the poor guy into the group against his will.”
“Strawhat-ya wouldn’t do that,” Law chuckled. He leaned down and pecked a kiss to Nami’s lips in greeting. “Please tell me you remembered my costume.”
“I didn’t, mostly because Perona did,” she replied. He raised an eyebrow. “She was the one who decided to do some down-to-the-wire adjustments. All I did was approve them.”
“Then let me drop off Cora-san’s stuff in his dressing room and we’ll do the grand reveal,” he said. She agreed and helped take everything labeled “Rosi Thoughts” to the closet-sized space that its occupant had not yet gotten to, getting distracted by the spread to rival any professional craft services team.
“Alright,” Nami said as they stopped outside the door with Law’s name taped to it (permanent marker on copy paper; very professional), “close your eyes.”
“Nami…”
“Humor us, alright?”
“Fine…” he groaned. He closed his eyes and held out his hands, which she took in both of hers. “Better?”
“Much.” She opened the door and led him in, Perona’s giggles of glee preceding her. “Okay, you ready?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not much, no,” Perona replied. “Go ahead. Open.”
Law opened his eyes and almost gasped when he saw what was sitting on the costuming dummy. It was a sparkling disaster, with the bright yellow scrub set having been taken in to better contour to his body and blue rhinestones outlining where his chest tattoo sat. There were no sleeves and barely anything left of the pant legs, a bright blue feather boa stethoscope, and his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the heeled shoes on the vanity counter, which were so thoroughly covered in their own rhinestones that he couldn’t even tell they had been brown.
“Well, yeah,” Perona said. She turned the dummy around to show that there were more rhinestones to mimic his back tattoo, as well as have two hearts styled like the ones on his shoulders sitting on the ass. “I think it’s going to be stunning. You couldn’t be cuter.”
“…but you hate yellow.”
“I hate what yellow does to my complexion,” she scoffed, swatting the words away with a limp wrist. “It looks fine on you.”
“You two are both enjoying this way too much,” he groaned. A glance over at Nami’s beaming expression confirmed his suspicions—he was going to pay for this, and it wasn’t just going to be letting his girlfriend sit on his face. “Where’s my makeup bag?”
“Oh, shit, I left it at Cora-san’s dressing room…”
“…then I’ll get it,” he insisted, glad for an excuse to escape. Law did not move quickly as he walked down the narrow corridor towards Cora-san’s room, wondering how the community theater company’s kitchily-large costumes ever tolerated such a narrow walkway.
He only had the door open for two seconds before he saw that the tiny room was decidedly occupado with Cora-san and Bell-mère, the latter with her shirt off in the process of stripping them both for an activity they really should have locked the door for; crutches had been hastily abandoned and the noises coming out of the injured man were fucking indecent.
Law shut the door as quickly and quietly as he could, face beet red, and decided to see what sort of snacks Sanji had put out. The makeup bag could wait.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“Alright, everyone!” Penguin called out as he meandered down the corridor. “Emcees are on in five! Glam it up! Last call!” He stopped in front of Law’s room and knocked softly. “Captain? You alright in there?”
“I am going to die,” Law announced from behind the wooden barrier.
“No he’s not!” Perona’s voice insisted. She popped her head out and scowled at Penguin. “He’s just being difficult.”
“Who’s being difficult?” Shachi asked as he appeared around the corner. Perona opened the door and stepped out in order to present her project.
If it wasn’t for the fact they knew it was Law who was getting roped into things, they almost would not have recognized him. Heels and fishnets, well-hidden padding in the chest and rear, a short-cut wig with face-framing bangs, and expert makeup that covered all his tattoos except his shoulders and contoured his face into something leagues more feminine… he was honestly drop-dead gorgeous.
“I thought you were going with more… erm… traditional makeup for the occasion,” Shachi noted. Law simply seethed.
“That apparently was not part of the plan,” he hissed. Ah, shit, his goatee and sideburns were gone. Nami and Perona, however, were ignoring the exchange.
“I think he’s ready,” Nami said, nodding sagely.
“Yes,” Perona agreed. “She is ready to take her place as the Queen of Queens.”
“You know that’s Strawhat-ya’s auncle,” Law replied. He wobbled slightly as he realized that Bepo had appeared behind Penguin and Shachi, snapping a pic with his DSLR before he even had a chance to react. “I said: minimal pictures!”
“You look great, Captain!” the bear beamed. “You better get to your station! The show’s about to start!”
“Good luck,” Nami smiled sweetly, kissing Law on his left shoulder, right over the exposed tattoo she knew would not smudge. “I’ll be helping Zoro contain Luffy. You know who my votes are behind.”
“Oh, is it me, dearest Nami-swan~?!” Both Nami and Law glanced over to see Sanji nearly pirouette out of his dressing room as he saw them. ‘Never took ballet’ his ass—the surgeon could almost bet his tucked balls on Sanji having had a secret life where he had done all the stereotypical rich kid bullshit like ballet and fencing and had been good at them.
“My cheers belong to my beau,” she teased. He picked up her hand and delicately kissed the back of it, which Law found fairly ridiculous in his garish makeup and skirted chef’s outfit.
“Then I shall promise a dessert for tomorrow evening guaranteed to be a petite mort?”
“Stop trying to seduce my girlfriend, Kitchin Bitchen,” Law growled. Sanji glared at him, which he returned, only for Nami to groan and punch them both in an arm.
“Ladies, you’re both pretty,” she insisted. “Now get going!” She smacked them both on the ass and left, Law taking it more as the sort of smack a sports coach would give, while Sanji threatened to bleed out of his nose.
“I am not performing emergency medical procedures on perverts tonight, so be careful,” Law warned as they joined the other contestants in the staging area just out of view of the audience. He blanched when he realized that a very crucial part of the whole show was missing. “Where’s Cora-san?”
“Usopp took him around the back to get to the judges’ booth,” Bell-mère said. Fuck, she looked like some washed-up trucker whose long-hauler broke down on the outskirts of Greater Logue Town and hoofed it the entire way there instead. “He’ll be seen, don’t worry.”
“Think about it,” Izou said, doing one final check of his hair before taking a microphone from Thatch. “Are we going to let him out of our sight with crutches if there’s a chance he can ruin the coat that took me murdering how many feather boas because he can’t be trusted with needles?”
Unable to refute that logic, Law shrugged and watched as Izou and Marco looked at one another, took a deep breath, and slap-slap-slap-slap-slapped their hands together in a quick secret handshake of brotherhood (or in this case, sisterhood) before they stepped out onto the main of the stage, the spotlights quickly finding them.
“Hello and welcome to the Annual Logue Town Royal Revue! Can I get a ‘yoi’?”
“YOI!” the crowd shouted back.
“Excellent! You all know me, yoi. I’m Shenix Fyre, and this is my sister-in-heels Ganmodokidoki. We’re your mistresses of ceremony for the night, where we’ve got a stunning display for everyone!”
“That’s right!” Izou grinned. “Our most steady crowd will know most years it’s just us and our sister Rosi Thoughts on the stage, cracking jokes and being our silly selves, but tonight we’ve got a special treat for you all!”
“That’s double-right!” Marco shifted so that his feathered wings shimmered in the lights, showing off the glitter and beadwork better than just the internal string lights could afford. “We have a brand-new, high-stakes format with a cast full of fresh meat for us to devour tonight!” The crowd cheered. “Now, is everyone ready for a transcendent time?!”
The crowd clapped and cheered; it was always a corny line, but Law found it somehow worse this year. He had to hand it to them—they really knew how to fire up and engage the crowd.
“Then let’s get started,” Izou said, “and begin introducing the fine and fabulous who are going to make up the teams! Each team gets a member of Enby Royalty, a King, and a Queen, who all have to cooperate in order to complete our grueling tasks!”
“First up in Royalty, we have Rose Marina, yoi!”
Shakily, Koby hobbled out onto the stage, almost tripping on himself; Killer scoffed at the sight.
“Poor lad’s about to piss himself,” he grunted.
“Well, yeah,” Bell-mère replied. “I don’t think he’s been even exposed to this before and now he’s in it.”
“Meeker than a wee lamb, that one.”
“Let’s give it up for Snowy Mum!”
“Now you’re just being mean,” Robin smirked, edging herself over towards the next spot. “Don’t let Luffy hear you say that about his new friend.”
“Tch…” Killer shrugged and tried to drop it.
“…and give a hand to our final member of Royalty, Kozuki Oden!”
“Is it usually this tedious?” Sanji asked. He was bouncing his leg and fidgeting. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed a smoke break more.”
“Give it a moment and you can run out the back for a hit,” Law deadpanned.
“Now to start off the Kings, yoi! Here we have Devil Ray!”
“Life really turned to shit when you stopped being able to smoke inside.”
“Bell-mère-ya, that’s a lie and you know it.”
“Eh; what are you gonna do about it, kid?”
“Time to meet Smartea Pants!”
“Flex my medical degree at you?”
“You’re a cardiothoratic surgeon on the best of days—you couldn’t tell me shit about anything else.”
“…and here he is, the Beast of the East!”
“See you out there, kids,” Bell-mère chuckled before she walked out under the lights of the stage.
“God, I hate this already,” Law groaned.
“There is no God here,” Killer stated. Law opened his mouth to explain it was just an expression and there was no reason to be a dick about it when Marco’s voice cut him off.
“Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, yoi! Here are this years Queens!” He paused to let the crowd applaud—they knew what they were here to see. “First up is Killer Queen!” Killer sauntered onto the stage and ate up the applause and cheers, some of the loudest coming from the man’s personal cheering section.
“If there is a God,” Law sighed, “then he’s making sure those two fuck.” He pointed out the punk with cherry-red hair and a prosthetic arm.
“Mmm… who knows,” Sanji shrugged. “I know I don’t want to.”
“Here’s a special gal who will cure what ails you, Dr. Hart-Steeler!”
“You’re up.” Law felt Sanji’s hands on his back and the younger man push him our towards the stage. The whole crowd clapped as he found himself under hot lights. He smiled awkwardly and quickly searched the crowd, finding not only where the Impel representatives were, but also where Nami-ya was with the rest of the non-participating Straw Hats. Law was so concentrated on his girlfriend, however, that he let the heel of his shoe slip and he rolled his ankle, landing hard on the worn lacquered wood of the stage floor to a round of gasps and one fairly annoying “faffaffaffa”.
Oh, they were off to a great start.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was two days since the Revue and Law was laying on a couch in Luffy’s sus-as-fuck party house at 1000 Sunny Rd, his feet propped up on the far armrest and his head in Nami’s lap as she idly carded through his hair. Her weather data-crunching laptop was balanced on the other armrest as she used it one-handed, not wanting to stop touching her boyfriend’s fluffy hair.
“How are your feet feeling?” she asked. He grunted in response, leaning into her touch.
“Better,” he admitted. “Ankles not nearly as sore either.” His eyes were closed as he simply enjoyed her touch and company. “I do still think I bruised my hipbone.”
“Did you now?” she wondered idly. “I guess this means that it might need some attention later…?”
“Possibly,” he smirked. “You’ll have to check for signs of contusions.”
“Hey, time to play doctor later,” Zoro warned as he walked into the room. He had his reading glasses on as he squinted at a newspaper—the Foosha Free Press—sourly. “It looks like they even did an article about you all the way out here in the fucking sticks.”
“They did not need to do an article about any of us out this way,” Law said, hoping the glare he was giving would help Zoro take a fucking hint.
It didn’t.
“I guess the editor is an old friend of your dad’s or something,” Zoro replied nonchalantly.
“Between your adoptive pain in the ass and mine, who don’t they know?”
“Boys, you’re both stupid, now what does it say?” Nami frowned. Zoro adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat before peering down at the paper, attempting to find where he’d left off. When it took him too long to find his spot, Nami tore the paper from his hands. “Silly me thinking you could read.”
“Witch! Can to!”
“Mmm… sure.” Nami opened up the paper and found the article Zoro had been hunting for almost immediately. “Huh. ‘The Logue Town Royal Revue, always a show that surprises and entertains, mixed things up to the extreme with their all-new drag show in their attempt to woo support from Impel Drag Race. With the goal of raising money for charity, it felt as though this year one got a lot more for their ticket price. Was it a change in budget? The novelty of new contestants? No one can say for certain.’ At least it seems like they really liked you.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Law whined. Nami grinned wickedly at that, knowing precisely what to do.
“‘The Revue,’” she continued reading, “‘was emceed by the two show founders, with their longtime third helping them with the judging portion. Anyone who knew of Shenix Fyre, Ganmodokidoki, and Rosi Thoughts’s prior acts came in with expectations that were delivered on. They were able to handle a rowdier-than-usual crowd that was there to support the fresh performers.’”
“Oh, get to the good shit already,” Zoro whined. Both he and Nami tried to not snicker as they watch Law curl up and try to hide his face in his girlfriend’s lap—no sale.
“Let’s see… blah, blah, ‘Royalty was a unique model the contestants brought to life’, blah, blah, blah… oh, good, nothing about Bell-mère. I was worried about that. It’s all about the one we didn’t know. Devil Ray…” Her eyebrows raised in amusement as she continued. “‘…but the true crowd pleasers were the Queens, especially Dr. Hart-Steeler, whose klutzy act reminiscent of her mother Rosi Thoughts endeared her to myself and the entire crowd.’ Law! They loved you!”
“…no…” he whimpered.
“Who knew your old man surgeon was sexy enough for that,” Zoro laughed. Nami silently dared him to try harder. “At least you know you can go back if you want to do it again.”
“Maybe if Cora-san had gotten into stunt kites… or maybe historical reenactments…”
“See?” Zoro pointed at Law haughtily. “Old man. He’s so old he doesn’t even have an ass.”
“Be nice; his ass suits my needs.”
“Nami, his ass needs implants it’s so flat.”
“Can you please not talk about my ass?”
“Mmm… too bad,” Nami hummed. She skritched his scalp with her nails and smiled at the photo included with the article: Dr. Hart-Steeler making an unintended dive towards Inazuma’s chest, limbs flailing and expression one of pure panic.
She was going to take what she could get.
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