On the Dog Head Warship at Marineford's harbor, Garp stood with his hands on his hips and loudly rebuked them, "Look at you two! Do you have even the slightest resemblance to Marines right now? Reeking of alcohol in broad daylight—I'm ashamed for you! Is this how I usually taught you?!"
Ortolan and Kuzan had not actually drunk much. They had only just sat down, and with their physical constitutions, this little bit of alcohol was no different from plain water.
Looking at the Justice Cloak draped over Garp's shoulders, as well as the gaudy beach shirt and shorts underneath, Ortolan strongly suspected that Garp had been happily running around on the beach with a water gun earlier and had not even had time to change.
The reason he had struck first was probably because he was afraid Ortolan and Kuzan would mock him, right?
What a cunning old man!
Seeing the strange looks in Kuzan and Ortolan's eyes, Garp seemed somewhat embarrassed as well. After a light snort, he calmly wrapped things up. "Forget it. I'll forgive you this time. Watch yourselves next time. Borgard, have them set sail."
Borgard froze for a moment and asked in surprise, "The Fleet Admiral's ship hasn't moved yet?"
"We'll wait for him up ahead. What are we crowding around in the harbor for? What if he comes aboard my ship later?" Garp waved his hand and said without hesitation.
Ortolan???
What kind of logic was that!?
"Mr. Garp... don't we need to meet with the Fleet Admiral? Didn't you just say our mission this time is to escort him?" Ortolan hurriedly asked.
"No, no. It's not like there aren't other warships. I don't want to sit on the same ship as the Fleet Admiral. He'd nag me to death," Garp said, shaking