Sinister System

Trebol sat limply back in his chair, his hand in Diamante's. "I fucking hope so, Dia. Alright, we'll go with your plan and wait it out. What do you think the odds are that he wins over Law, really?"

"The odds?" Diamante laughed, leaning forward with a grim grin. "Snowball's chance in hell, Tre. But hey… you never know. On the Grand Line you get weirder weather than that all the time."

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Dia, but I get what you're saying, and you're right. There's no way of telling. Ordinarily I'd say that it's completely impossible, but…"

"But it's Doffy, right?" Diamante said with a smile."That kid can do anything."

"So indeed," Trebol sighed.

Diamante hopped to his feet, slinging his guitar across his back. "Come on, old man, let's get you to bed, or you're going to be a worse grouch than fucking usual."

"Old man," Trebol huffed indignantly, clambering his way to his feet. He let Diamante help him up. "As if you're not almost as old as I am. As if we're not both pushing fifty by this point."

"Speak for yourself, Tre, I'm a youthful 45."

"Bastard."

"You should shave the beard if you want to look younger, you know."

"The beard makes me look dignified."

"It makes you look old."