24
Inside the cable car high above, Trebol's sticky body took up almost half the space.
Diamante kept his fingers on the relief carved into his sword hilt, his gaze sweeping over the clouds racing past the window.
Rossi stood quietly, the edge of his glove creasing slightly against the handrail.
"Well, if it isn't our little **?"
The voice came from the platform where the cable car stopped.
Garp leaned against a gilded railing, chewing something, his uniform coat hanging casually open.
His sleeve stirred the air as he waved, and his metal buttons reflected the Holy Land's eternal lights.
Rossi stepped out of the cable car and bowed to him in greeting.
The movement made the hem of his cloak trace a brief arc across the ground.
"Still so particular about manners."
Garp strode forward and draped an arm naturally around the young man's shoulders, his booming laughter making even the armor of the attendants at the far end of the corridor tremble slightly.
But beneath that laughter, a lowered breath brushed Rossi's ear. "The people from Bollywood have prepared a proposal demanding you hand over the Sea Train blueprints."
Rossi turned his face slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting.
"So you've heard as well."
Garp paused for a moment, then vigorously ruffled that pale blond hair, as though cuffing a familiar junior. "You crafty little brat."
When he turned to leave, the rhythm of his boot heels striking the floor was utterly unrestrained, every step ringing out without a care.
Diamante's thumb pushed his sword guard out half an inch, then slowly pressed it back.
The three continued onward.
The massive pillars lining the corridor cast alternating bands of light and shadow, and the lingering scent of some burned spice hung in the air.
Walking along