idk i was in a weird mood? This is short and pointless and sad; you've been warned.

Ace pulls his hand away from his mouth and rubs it on his shorts without looking. "Call," he says. "And no, I've never played poker before."

"Sure you haven't," Atmos says, throwing down his cards in disgust. "Fold."

Ace hums happily and all eyes move to Rakuyo, who's chewing on his lip. Rakuyo looks up at Ace, back to his cards, and then huffs. "Got nothing," he says, tossing his own cards, and Ace beams and collects the pot.

"You've obviously played poker before," Thatch complains, gathering the cards up again. "You're way too good at it."

"Beginner's luck?" Ace says with a little grin, then plants both hands on the table and stands up. "And on that note, I'm leaving before I run out of it."

Rakuyo makes a grumbling noise and Atmos gathers up the remains of his winnings. Thatch bridges the cards and glances up at Ace, who's still leaning on the table. "You okay there, champ?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Thanks for the game, guys!" He turns and brings up his hand, shoulders shaking just a bit, and Thatch frowns.

"Hey, you fleeced us; you don't get to laugh at us, too!" he calls after him, and Ace just swings out his hand in vague acknowledgement and meanders on.

"Ugh," says Atmos. "I'm never playing with him again. I can't tell when he's bluffing."

"I think he's always bluffing," Thatch says sourly. "Another hand, gentlemen?"

Marco rests his chin in his hand as he watches Ace swallow yet another roast whole. "How does he do that, yoi?"

Thatch shakes his head. "If you find out, please don't ever tell me."

"Ish goud," Ace says, or something like it, and then promptly chokes.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Jozu says, pushing over his mug.

Ace coughs, downs the mug, and then coughs some more "Ugh," he says, leaning over the table and leaning heavily on his elbows. "Ow. That was nasty."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Jozu repeats, and takes his empty mug back.

"Right, right," Ace says, wiping his palms on his shorts beneath the table.

Marco sighs. It's not the first time Ace has done this and it won't be the last. Still, he watches carefully as Ace goes back to eating, starting slowly before ramping back up. It's been happening more recently, that talking-with-the-mouth-full thing, and if it means that Ace is finally relaxed enough around them to do it, then he can put up with the occasional drink theft, he supposes.

Ace hums a lot, Namur notices. He can't help but notice, because Ace likes to perch on the railings and scramble up the rigging and generally be everywhere on deck at once.

"What's that you're humming?" he asks. It sounds familiar, like a distant memory.

"Hmm?" Ace looks down from the rigging he's halfway up, then leans out to spit over the side. "Oh, the song? Dunno. Picked it up somewhere in Paradise. Something about an elf knight and a maiden; you know it?"

"Nah," Namur says. "Sounds familiar, is all. Why don't you sing it? You used to sing a lot."

Ace shrugs, letting his weight spin him around the rigging. "Dunno the words," he says. Then he grins, bright and wide. "Why, you wanna make some up? Do a duet?"

Namur scoffs. "Like hell, brat," he says.

"Riiight," Ace drawls, swings back around again. "Last time you tried to sing for everyone, you got thrown overboard. I forgot."

Namur does not for one instant believe that Ace forgot, so he just scowls. "It's not my fault that you don't recognize the beauty of fishmen's songs-hey! Hey brat! Get back here!"

"What's that?" Haruta asks, plopping down next to Ace.

Ace's shoulders go stiff and his fist clenches around the bundle of fabric. "Nothing."

Haruta eyes him. "You're a bad liar," she tells him fondly.

Ace tilts his head and side-eyes her. "Yeah, but you're not supposed to call me out on it."

"I will always call you out on it," she promises, then promptly reconsiders. "Unless it's for a good reason. Or funny. Or to my benefit. Or-"

Ace laughs at her and bumps her shoulder with his own. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hey, what did you want me for?"

Nothing, really, but he'd been sitting there all hunched up and she'd walked by and been unable to help herself. Not that she's gonna tell him that, though; she's a much better liar than he is. "I just wanted to tell you something. Did you ever hear about the time Thatch set his hair on fire?"

Ace's eyes sharpen and he twists his whole body around to face her fully. "Tell me," he demands.

"I love how much you love gossip," she sighs, ruffling his hair. He frowns but lets her, so she tells him the whole sordid tale and it's almost all true.

"Hey, Fossa?" Ace calls, voice echoing off the pipes. "You in here?"

Fossa manages something back that's generally affirmative but wildly mangled, so he finishes tightening the bolt, spits out the wrench, and tries again. "Yeah!"

Ace ducks around and into sight. "Hey," he says, eyes darting everywhere. "Whatcha doing?"

Fossa gets the last bolt in place and starts spinning it down too. "Routine maintenance," he says, then walks the wrench around through his fingers. "Something I can do for you?"

"Marco sent me to tell you that Pops wants to have a meeting tonight," Ace says. He reaches out to touch a pipe running horizontally by. "Huh. Is that supposed to be that hot?"

"Yup," Fossa says, dropping the wrench and stretching out. Too much time all crammed in like that sure did a number on your posture. "It runs from the hydroelectric reservoir to the reserve tank, so it's hot from the steaming."

"Steam?" Ace asks, trying to track the pipe through the maze. "When is it steam?"

Fossa props one hand on his hip and looks at Ace. The kid is peering into the room, reaching out his arms for balance. There's a red smudge on his palm where he touched the pipe, and Fossa frowns. His division's been slacking on the cleaning if there's rust in places. Ace does seem genuinely curious, though, so he nods. Meeting's not til tonight anyway, Ace had said. That's about enough time for a crash course.

"C'mere," he says, stepping back into the maze of pipes. "I'll show ya."

"Cool!" Ace says and clambers after him, kicking a vertical pipe and causing a loud clang. Curious the kid may be, but graceful he is not.

Whitebeard looks around at the table. Six chairs on either side, and each of them full. It's a nice sight.

"I've called this meeting," he says, "to check in on everyone and to see how Ace is settling in with his division."

His newest Commander goes stiff in his seat, and Whitebeard grins at him. "Don't worry," he says. "I'm sure you're doing well!"

Ace coughs a few times into his hand and looks away.

Marco sighs and nods at Whitebeard. "He's making friends. The more he relaxes, the more the men trust him. The Division's morale is very high, yoi."

Haruta adds, "He's being very active about seeking out information on his position and figuring out what he should be doing, and who he needs to learn that from."

"I can attest to that," Fossa says. "Kid's smart. Willing to learn and asks the right questions."

"He cheats at cards," Rakuyo throws in, arms crossed. There's a moment, and he looks up to see everyone looking back. "What? He does!"

"Do you?" Blamenco asks, leaning in.

All eyes land on Ace, who promptly flushes. "I-" he says. "Look, okay, I count cards, sure, but I don't cheat!"

"He's a bad liar," Haruta adds, and Ace looks down and goes redder. "It's really cute when he tries, though."

"I can too lie!" Ace yells, surging to his feet. "I lie all the time!"

"See?" Haruta says. "Adorable."

Juzo puts a hand on his shoulder. "But of a temper," he says to the table at large, "but overall he settled in just fine."

Ace collapses back into his chair, fuming, and Whitebeard laughs. "I'm glad you're happy in our family," he says.

Whitebeard keeps his eyes on Ace, who looks up at him slowly. He nods and says, "I'm proud of you, son," and Ace achieves a red he never has before, spreading splotchily down his neck and over his collarbones.

"Th-thanks," he says, and his chest flutters oddly with his breath, one hand clapped to his side. "I don't know-"

Whitebeard waits, but that appears to be it. "Thank you, Ace," he says. "Keep up the good work! Meeting dismissed!"

Everyone wants to stop and congratulate him, and he smiles with his mouth closed and keeps his measured, rocking gait all the way to his Commander's cabin.

The second the door's bolted behind him, he dashes for the sink and his fingers dig into the edges as he heaves.

The awful tickle in his lungs doesn't ever stop anymore, and once he starts coughing, he has to keep going until he's sore with it. He tries to muffle the sound with his hand but all he does is get blood everywhere.

When it finally runs out, he's left weak and panting. His face in the mirror is pale and sweaty and he can't stand the bright sheen to his eyes.

Worst of all, there's a small stabbing pain starting low on his side. He knows what that means. He read Roger's journal; he knows the progression of this disease.

"Shit," he says. There's still blood on his teeth and the taste never leaves his mouth these days. "I thought I'd have more time."