A/N: Hey, minna! It's been a while since I posted a longfic, huh? This is the first chapter of my NaNoWriMo, and I've stepped away from tradition here a little bit. My beloved co-author, Silva, has had some personal troubles lately, so she's here writing for Zoro, and in this chapter she's also got Nami, but over the course of this fic we'll also see guest stars voicing other characters as they show up. I'll link to them up here before each chapter and list who they've written for, along with any warnings you might need to pay attention to, like in this chapter we've got some violence of the standard Sanji/Zoro variety. Anyway, enjoy! Ja ne~!

3 October - Part 1

Sanji looked down at his phone with a small frown, "Thousand Sunny right, bone man?"

The device chimed back, the words [yes indeed sanjisan yohohoho] popped up on the screen.

The blond cook frowned harder, and took a final drag on his cigarette.

In front of him the small bar was both ostentatious and out of the way at the same time somehow, with a bright red and yellow lion's head above the door between the two words in the name. The figure looked like it had been something else before the addition of a flower petal-shaped mane, and the rest of the store front was plastered with posters for bands, both big names and indie groups. It was tucked onto the corner lot between Windmill Avenue and Raftel Street, just a few blocks' walk from where Red Line crossed Grand Line at the center hub of the city.

Not the nicest of neighborhoods.

Most of the rest of the buildings around it were apartments, rowhouses, and the occasional small mom-and-pop type stores. Like the clothing boutique across Windmill Ave; Pappagu's Crimin Designs. Sanji suspected from the gap between the letters the second word was supposed to be 'criminal' but someone had stolen the lights and metal from the A and L.

He took a breath and tossed the butt of his smoke—one more wouldn't be noticed among the rest of the litter. With some misgivings he pulled open the door and was immediately assaulted by chaos!

Somebody was banging on a drum set, somebody else seemed to be banging a counter-rhythm with a hammer, there was the sound of a third person wailing about something unintelligible, and just as he dared stick his nose into the entryway, a man who couldn't have been older than twenty bounced, literally, across his path dressed in a bright red, sleeveless hoodie, and of all things, a straw hat!

Sanji blinked, wondering just what his downstairs neighbor had gotten him into. He couldn't turn back though. He needed the job. That shitty cafe with its stupid closed-minded manager and—that shit was illegal, jackass! He shook himself and wandered through the collection of tables just in front of the bar itself. It granted him a chance to look into the kitchen—small, but manageable. He could work with that easily. Then, following the logical path around the end of the counter, he approached what he assumed was the managerial office, tucked behind the stairs that led to the stage that took up the entire wall opposite the door.

"For the last time, Zoro, no!"

The woman was beautiful, and clearly done with the conversation. Her long red hair was bound in a loose tail that curled and cascaded down her back past a shirt that was too short to be fair and jeans that were almost too low to be legal! Sanji felt himself start to noodle, he'd kill to have a figure like that! Of course, anyone who saw him would assume he was attracted to her, and that was just how he liked it.

"Nami, I have fucking rent to pay! I've been here six months! A dollar won't send the bar into the fucking poorhouse!" The man who was pursuing the woman was... well, very, VERY different.

He was the definition of rough-hewn power; shoulders broad and thick, with muscles that rippled under his sleeveless black shirt that read "SECURITY" as he gesticulated with both hands, a tendon in his neck standing out as he bared his teeth. His hand movements chimed a set of three golden earrings in his left ear, his dark green eyes bright and hard.

"You're already paying me almost a CRIMINALLY low amount and you know it! And don't tell me again to take it up with Luffy! We all know you are the financial officer around here so he doesn't spend it all on weird furniture and additions!"

"My hands are tied! Minimum is all I can give you until you've been here a year! I didn't make the rules! Garp did when he signed the place over to Luffy!" She planted both hands on her desk, the papers in her left wrinkling slightly, "We all have rent to pay, damnit! You just have to find a way to make do! Get your guitar or something and jam with Sabo for tips!"

"I can't afford strings! Which is why I need a raise, surely there's a loophole in the rules?! If anyone would find out it'd be you, come on!"

Both his hands buried in his hair—his bright, lime mixed with grass, green hair! What the actual fuck?! It wasn't a threat against the woman, but certainly not calm in any form because he was yanking on it.

"Don't you think if there was a loophole in the rules I'd have used it myself?! I'm not making that much more than you, you know!" Her bangles clanged in almost response to the irritated jingle of the green haired man's earrings.

"What can we do then? I can't AFFORD to work here another six months, Nami, I'll be shit outta luck and on the street and too dirty to come to work! What the hell are we supposed to do?!"

"For a start, calm down, Jesus!" Sanji stepped into the other guy's personal space only because the office was so small and cut off whatever Nami had been about to say. "If things are so bad, I lend you the money to get strings, don't go off on the lady like some kind of ape!"

The man stopped, and his brow furrowed. Slowly, like it was a struggle, his eyes turned to the strange blond currently butting his nose in, the left with noticeable lag thanks to the wicked scar that bisected the lid from above his eyebrow to almost the ridge of his cheek bone. He blinked at him a couple times, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"...Do I know you?"

"No. I just can't stand to see people like you trapping women in a corner like that." The blond's visible eyebrow twitched and the opposite edge of his lip curled.

Blinking again, the bouncer then looked at Nami. "...are you trapped in a corner?"

Again the redhead opened her mouth to respond, only to have the newcomer cut her off, with an edge in his voice that spoke of something more than the current altercation, "You've got her behind the desk and you're filling the entire rest of the damn office with your shitty muscles! Of course she's trapped! What else is she gonna do? Climb over you to get out?"

"Last time somebody wouldn't get out of her way she kicked him in the balls. Besides, of course she's behind the desk. She was probably gonna shove the contract fuckin' Garp drew up for this place in my face again. Or beat me with it like a dog with a newspaper, whichever's more appealing."

His body had moved entirely sideways to face the stranger, who he was eyeing up and down. Every so often, his gaze flicked to Nami. She'd been cut off twice, a recipe that often led to disaster, and was starting to put him on edge.

"Look," Nami hopped over the desk between them, angling the blond back out into the hallway, and thus proving that she hadn't ever really been trapped in the first place. "Sanji, right? The guy Brook said was coming about the bar-tending job?" At his nod she continued, her voice as sweet as honey at the way his nose flared, "We're good. Why don't you just go check out the kitchen and whip something up for me? I don't much care what. Consider it your interview, ne?"

Then, without even bothering to find out if he'd done as she asked, she turned back around to face Zoro, and poked him in the chest.

"The discussion is over. I can't do anything about it, and you know it! I don't know how many times I have to tell you before you get it through your head. There's nothing I can do! Now go catch our 'boss'" she rolled her eyes, "before he gets it in his head to try swinging from the stage lights again! We can't afford the paperwork involved with Franky fixing them!"

The bouncer sighed, then his whole body relaxed as he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine. But tell blondie the White Knight over there I'll hold him to that offer for a set of strings," he grumbled, slipping past her with a surprising amount of agility for a man his size and through the doorway to go collect Luffy—

"LUFFY! WHAT DID WE SAY ABOUT THE LIGHT RIG?! GET DOWN FROM THERE!"

Nami inhaled deeply and barely resisted whimpering. If the rest of the day was like this she was seriously gonna needed one of Vivi's special baths just to unwind. And there was still the band to replace after talking to Law earlier. Ugh... She could feel the headache pounding between her ears already.

Then there was a tall glass of something lightly orange and poured over chopped ice with a twist of what looked like mikan on the rim in front of her. She blinked at it, following the arm that put it down up to a rolled cuff at a slender, if toned, bicep.

She frowned, "I thought I said cook something. This is a drink."

"How true it is, Mellorine~!" Sanji chirped, sounding like the sarcastic comment was a true compliment thanks to the way he fluttered his eyelashes at her. "Your assignment is not quite ready, I was delayed and thought one of my father's signature headache cures could help you forget the meathead from before."

She took the glass and used the provided straw to stir it, though it was quite well stirred (perfectly blended, actually), mostly for something to do with one hand while the other massaged her temple.

"Trust me, he's not the worst of my worries. The idiot he's chasing off the light rig is," she pointed at Luffy, mouth turning down. "Zoro is just a little desperate. He doesn't have anywhere to go if he loses his apartment, and they've raised the price of rent the last three months in a row without any explanation."

She sipped the drink, letting the tangy, cooling juice slip over her tongue and down her throat, and almost like magic just the taste of it seemed to dissipate some of the headache.

"But we've lost the band we'd had booked for the week, and our revenue already isn't exactly six digits thanks to our location. No, Sanji, I have far, far greater headaches to deal with than one panicking bouncer."

The cook was taken aback by the explanation, though he still didn't like the way the other man had loomed over the pretty manager. "Well," he shifted ingredients around in a bowl with a flick of his wrist that was as much show as it was function, tossing the whole thing in the air while he thought for a moment, "you could try an open mic night, half the tips goes to the house for the use of space, invite all the locals for a chance to jump up in front of the lights. And half the kitchen equipment is superfluous if you hire me. You could sell it easily at the swap shop down in Loguetown and get back at least as much as you paid for it."

The whole time he was talking, he was working, moving around the square room as though it was his own already. The fire on the stove flashed as he caught the juices from the pan into which his previous bowl had been poured, and the scent of something downright sinful wafted across the dining room, catching the attention of all who smelled it. A shift of his hips had him pulling something out of the toaster oven that looked like baked haddock, but that was impossible in the amount of time he'd been there. Then a timer went off, he flicked his wrist to bank the flames, spun to grab another dish of vegetables and what could have been cheese from the other side of the kitchen with barely a step, and brought everything back over to the metal counter just below where the taps stuck up next to the door.

His eyes flicked up, scanned the room in an instant and the next thing Nami knew there were enough plates for everyone lining the bar. Each had a portion of the fish and the meat from the pan he'd seared, a topping of vegetables steamed with an aromatic sauce, and rolls that had originally appeared too stale to eat, toasted and topped with cheese and spices. He cleaned himself up as he went, making the plates, the counter, and the kitchen spotless but for the sink of dirty dishes waiting for the end of the meal.

Then he gave a shrug, "Though if things are going as poorly as you think they are, I won't press you for a job. If you can't afford to give the mossball what he needs to pay his rent, you certainly can't afford to hire me. Better to keep a roof over his head."

Nami chewed on her pencil as the others, drawn in like magic to the food, each stationed themselves in front of a plate, running calculations in her head. As such, she almost wasn't paying attention when she put down the pencil to pick up the roll and bite into it—at which point the thought of absolutely anything else vanished from her mind.

It was glorious and perfect and she closed her eyes for a moment as appreciative sounds erupted all around her, but she was lost in the pure flavor of something that tasted so good, something that tasted so much like home, it made her ache for Vivi's arms.

Even Zoro's sour expression had softened, his left eye slipping shut as he quietly ate another bite of the fish.

Sanji smiled, leaning back against the opposite counter. He knew each dish was perfect, had sampled them all in the process of making them, and was pleasantly full having done so. With the exception of the sight from earlier rocking his core, the cook was quite happy with how the day was shaping up. Even if the gorgeous Nami didn't hire him, he was satisfied that he'd at least helped her out somehow.

Then a voice cut across his thoughts, "SANJI! JOIN MY CREW!"

"DON'T JUST DECIDE THESE THINGS!" Another cut across the bar.

The first, Luffy, jumped to his feet, his fists high in the air, "Yosh!"

The second, a man of African descent with a nose like Pinocchio, waved his hand at the other, "Oi oi oi! Have you even talked to Nami?! You know everything has to go through—"

Nami held up a hand to stall him. More accurately, so she could swallow. "What the idiot said. You're hired. See, Sanji, if you cook one meal every day, that mitigates food costs for all of us sufficiently not only that I can pay you as much as the contract allows me, but gives everyone else enough leeway to afford rent. Or... more food, in Luffy's case, because he's a bottomless pit."

There was a smacking sound to their right to illustrate the point.

"Ow! This is my plate, Luffy, and I know it is un-SUPER of me, but I'm not letting you snitch off mine tonight!"

Luffy jumped back with barely a yelp and snatched the roll from the kid who'd been drumming earlier—looked like he couldn't have been more than seventeen, if that, all lanky and unfinished. He pouted at the black-haired man. The statuesque woman with ebony hair and Asian features next to him somehow reached around Luffy to grab the roll back, and winked at the younger boy. Sanji thought that should have been comforting but for some reason the kid blushed and swore at her. The guy to the other side, bigger than the mosshead from before, laughed out loud and tossed his own roll at the 'captain', in spite of what he'd said before. And Sanji once again had the thought of just what he was getting himself into cross his mind.

Inexplicably, his attention was drawn to the bouncer from before, Zolo or something like that. Big guy, heavy muscles, wicked scar on his face, in a violent profession? Yeah... Sanji knew his type, and he shuddered. At least the other guy in the security shirt looked relaxed and personable. Mosshead looked like he wanted to punch something. It made the blond push himself unconsciously closer to the counter, hands gripping the edge hard, and a scowl between his brows.

He was eating though, with the slow, methodical bites that let him savor the flavor of each individual bite, but did not let the food have time to get cold. And though his expression had softened some, it had not completely gone away. He occasionally took small sips from his water glass, his thick Adam's apple bobbing.

Fuck he was hot too! Sanji cursed mentally. His father would smack him senseless if he brought another one of those home. So, instead he forced himself to look away and smiled winningly at Nami, suddenly aware he hadn't actually answered her yet.

"I'd be glad to exchange my services to offset the costs accrued by raising everyone's salary. And I think you'll find everyone works that much more efficiently with a balanced meal before the doors open. Are you expecting anyone else this evening?"

She shook her head, swallowing before answering. "No, Brook and Vivi are off today. You'll meet her tomorrow, and Brook said he lives in the apartment below you right?"

He gave a nod.

"Good, then that's everybody—"

"Unless Luffy's brothers show up." The long-nosed man pointed out.

Sanji looked at him, confused, "Brothers?"

Nami nodded, gesturing with her fork again, "Sabo and Ace. They live with him in the apartment above the club. If nothing else you'll meet them on Wednesday when Ace comes in to paint the walls again."

The seventeen-year-old piped up, "Don't forget Law!"

A frustrated scowl crossed her brow at the name, "He's usually here later, when the bands play. And only when he's off. Or isn't called in because somebody else called off."

She huffed and the dark-haired woman patted her shoulder comfortingly. Sanji surmised that whoever Law was must have been part of the band she'd been talking about earlier and sympathized with her via nearly visible hearts as he happily replaced her drink before serving one of the same to the other woman.

Speaking up for the first time, her violet eyes sparkled with mirth at the cook's actions, "Why, Cook-san, it appears you already have a knack for predicting what your patrons enjoy. A remarkable talent. One might even say you've sanded it down to a sharp point."

A smile played about her lips, and she tucked a section of hair behind her ear, as Sanji stared at her. There was something about her, some energy that was familiar. The motion shortened her hair on that side so that the ends brushed her jawline—a clearly deliberate gesture—and the cook's eyes went wide.

"Robin!" He snatched up her hand in a pirouette of smiles, kissing the back of each knuckle with a chirp of praise. "I have not seen you in so many years, my precious flower! Even more radiant than you ever were! Please tell me you are not just passing through, and that I might be granted the boon of working with you again, no matter how undeserving the setting!"

She laughed, taking her hand back, and sipped at her drink, quiet and mysterious as always.

"Robin is one of our two waitresses." Nami supplied, rolling her eyes at the declarations of love. "And this is Franky, our other bouncer and handyman. Usopp works wherever we need him basically, and doubles as our resident tech guru. Luffy technically owns the place but mostly gets in the way." The dark-haired man grinned unashamed when she pointed at him, so she moved on, "Chopper is your busboy, basically he's there to—"

Sanji held up a hand, "I grew up in a restaurant. Don't worry about a thing. I'll be glad to work him into the floor."

He gave the teenager a dark smile that had Robin chuckling, so Nami didn't respond to it, or being cut off. Again. That was a habit she was going to have to break before he caught her at the wrong moment.

"Anyway, Vivi and Ace also wait tables when they're here. Sabo fills in anywhere. Brook usually runs our sound board, and you already met Zoro earlier. So, this would be the usual gang to be fed. Usually no more than eight or nine of us at a time, except on weekends, though he," she jabbed her fork into Luffy's side, "really counts as more like ten people all by himself."

The owner giggled a strangled sound through his teeth, a finger under his nose.

Zoro snorted on the end, because if anything that was an underestimation and it was amusing. Still, he didn't stop eating to say anything, and didn't put his fork down until he cleared his plate.

A snarl crawled up Sanji's back at the sound, but he forced himself to ignore it, grinning at Luffy instead. "You're the Rubberman aren't you?"

"Yup!" The young man grinned, unabashedly still with a mouthful of food pushing his cheeks out like a chipmunk.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ow! His old man owned the place." The blue-haired bouncer answered for their captain. "Left it to him when he died."

Sanji frowned, confused, "How can you manage touring the country and still managing the club?"

Zoro burst out laughing. "Oh my god. Luffy! Managing!" He hunched up in his seat, head almost hitting the bartop as he fairly howled at the thought. "Nami did you hear him?! LUFFY! Managing this place!"

Embarrassment climbed his face as the blond took in the same mirth pouring from all of those gathered around the bar, and he cleared his throat, beginning to gather up the dishes. He made an elaborate show of picking up Nami's and spoke deliberately, even though the words were flowery.

"Then I must assume you are the one in charge, my beautiful mellorine, for obviously the rest of these muscleheads wouldn't know management if it bit them in the ass. I'm sure we are in capable hands, between you, Miss Robin, and your stunning sister, Vivi."

He took the dark haired woman's hand and kissed her knuckles again before she could do anything else about it, but let her go again equally as fast, not want to encroach on her personal space. And he was making assumptions about the third lady to be subjected to the boorish crew, having caught a glimpse of a vivacious woman a few years older than Nami herself in a photograph on the manager's desk before.

Beside Robin, Franky raised an eyebrow. He'd have said something but he caught a couple of things about the situation that made him elbow Usopp. Without Sanji's knowledge, they exchanged a look with the woman and she nodded, stifling their own reactions to his statement. So, Franky merely slid his arm around her back surreptitiously to soothe his own ruffled ego, even if he didn't honestly think the new cook meant anything serious in flirting with his long-time girlfriend.

On the other hand, Zoro couldn't stand it, he just laughed so hard he wheezed and fell off the chair. Sisters?! He knew it was an honest mistake, he did, but now that he'd started laughing he couldn't seem to stop!

A twitch rumbled down the cook's spine. He carefully put all of the dishes in the sink before he cracked one. This was a new job. He needed to get along with his co-workers. This wasn't the Baratie! He couldn't wail on the guy! No matter how much he wanted to. He was trembling with rage when the seventeen-year-old came up to him and started babbling.

"Thanks for the food, Sanji. I'm Tony, but everybody calls me Chopper, on a count of how I'm studying to be a surgeon. I'm your busboy and gopher and whatever I guess, which Nami already said, but I wanted to just—Are you okay?"

He looked worried, with bangs that fluffed out over his forehead like the shaggy mane of a reindeer. His eyes were too sharp for a kid his age as they flicked over the taller man from head to toe, taking in the cold sweat drying on the back of his neck, the beat of his pulse under his ear, the shiver of his long muscle groups, the way he kept leaning slightly onto his left leg like he was going to kick something with his right. The prodigy's mind clicked off the symptoms like a checklist: acute anxiety built upon probable PTSD and undoubtedly personal boundary issues, judging by the drape and hang of his clothing.

"Ah. I'm fine! Really." The blond smiled, tense, and unconvincingly. "Think you could stack the stuff in the dish machine for me. I gotta grab a smoke." 'Before I kill someone' was left unspoken between them.

"That stuff'll kill you, you know."

Sanji waved off the kid's concerns, intentionally pretending that all Chopper was talking about was his smoking addiction, focused on getting his fix and relaxing. So focused in fact that he didn't notice until he'd run his shoulder into the wall of muscle that was Zoro, and the way it happened looked like it was on purpose.

The green-haired man coughed, his laughter having tapered off, and raised his eyebrows at the other. "You really wanna fight, don'tcha, blondie?" He tilted his head to the side and grinned. "Fine then. Let's take it outside."

"I could mop the floor with you but I don't want it to catch your brand of stupid. Lime doesn't work so well on hardwood." Now that the ladies were out of range, the cook didn't bother hiding the sarcasm in his voice, his weight on his back leg.

"I've never had to wipe the floor yet, and that's why I said outside," Zoro snarked back, hands playing with his belt like there was supposed to be something there. "Afraid you'll look stupid in front of your precious 'ladies', are ya? Too proud to take a loss?"

"Loss? Hasn't been a meathead that could take me since I was twelve! You really wanna do this, mossball? Fine! Bring it!" Sanji growled, hands clenched into fists. By way of demonstration, he kicked the door open with a bang, "Age before beauty, shithead."

"I thought it was ladies first, fuckass," was shot back at him as the bouncer ducked under that long leg to get out the door.

"LADIES?!" Sanji shrieked, and spun, the heel that had been on the floor spun around and clocked the bouncer between the shoulders. "SAY THAT AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER! I FUCKING DARE YOU!"

Somehow he'd performed a full 360 degree pivot at a 90 degree angle to the floor using the foot with which he'd opened their way into the alley, and he was furious!

Zoro was thrown back into the wall, but once he recovered from his initial surprise and caught his breath he bared his teeth in mimicry of a grin. "That's what I'm fucking talking about. Do it again, Mr. White Fucking Knight. Do it again."

Sanji's upper body was loose, fists up to use his forearms to guard his head, and his weight balanced on one leg. The first punch was easily ducked around, wild and more force than aim, and something about it combined with his temper, a voice in his head telling him to wait. The fucker was baiting him.

"Yeah. Sure. Gimme a challenge and we'll fucking see if you can still talk so big after I've knocked the fucking teeth out of your shitty mouth."

They circled each other, both bouncing on the balls of their feet, and Sanji recognized the bandana gracing the grass-head's upper left bicep. Recognition lit up in his eyes and he let himself take a step back, putting distance between them for a moment, before rushing him with a roundhouse that would have taken his block off if Zoro hadn't rolled his shoulder up to catch it. The motion was matched with a slide of his left foot in a pivot to bring his right knee into what he thought was Sanji's open spot. A shin like steel met the attack instead. Sanji's elbow followed his body around to clock a slightly stunned Zoro in the temple, making stars explode across his vision.

Holy hell, the cook was out for blood! What the hell was his problem!? Zoro didn't even know the guy, and he shook his head trying to clear both the thoughts and he stars in the process, in the hopes that he could get some kind of read on where the fury was coming from.

All he had was a heartbeat before the blond was back in his face, feet flying, and he could barely keep up. His hits were like Luffy on a bad day with the speed of Usopp's paintball gun. Hip, knee, heel, shoulder, elbow, shin, fuck! Zoro blocked them all, keeping the fight going in a circle around the square lot behind the club's building and the rowhouse next door, but damn if he wasn't accruing bruises like he never did with the D brothers.

Sanji, on the other hand, only saw red. Lady?! Fucking LADY!? He'd kill him! He'd murder him! He didn't even care about the job anymore, all he knew was this clearly abusive motherfucker had no respect for women, and saw them as a lesser race, useful for attacking his fellow men because the worst thing they could possibly be was a woman! Well, fuck him! He could unlearn his transphobic, misogynistic ways under the steel of Sanji's shoe!

He advanced on him, flying kick to the face followed up with a knee to the bread basket and an elbow to the back of the head. He caught a punch across his jaw and spat blood to the side mid-leap. Then Zoro got in a lucky hit, a certain hard edge in his eyes, and caught the cook in the side, just between his stomach and his arm, where the ribs began.

An explosion of pain rocketed across Sanji's mind and he went down, lashing out with a final heel as his hands and arms caught on the ground. The sole of his shoe connected with Zoro's jaw, and the marimo went flying backwards into the door to the club with a resounding CLANG! that meant his head landed first.

"What the HELL is going on out here?!" Nami screeched from the doorway—apparently the door opened inwards was well as outwards.

Sanji heard Zoro groaning from where he fell, but the cook was far more focused on the way his body was having trouble taking in oxygen. The pain in his side blossomed with every inhale, and the back of his mind supplied that he'd need to strip down to take a full breath. He knew that intrinsically, but no! Not here! He couldn't! That was what had gotten him fired from his last job!

He coughed several times, "N-Nami, my dear! No need to… to worry. Just a lesson between…" he broke off coughing again, pushing himself to his feet unsteadily, "between co-workers. Provided I am allowed to throw myself upon your…" another round of coughing, though he found himself supported on both sides, "your mercy to beg for my job?"

"Ugh!"

She had her hand over her eyes, but her outlines were a little fuzzy. Was his eye swollen? He blinked a few times, yes… it sort of felt like it was going to be, even if it wasn't already.

"Just take them both to the ER. Law's on shift. Tell him he owes me for canceling."