[ The lock is shamefully easy to pick, but Nami takes her time with it, using the diversion to the fullest extent she can, as long as it means she doesn't have to turn around and contend with the suddenly intense task of looking at him head on again. With the hazy, but no less unsettling sense that they've done something like this before – chatting amiably while Nami picks a lock for their benefit – she can't trust herself to not stare and incidentally reveal just how baffled and bewildered she feels. ]

Can't say I have. This is a first for me. [ Nami's voice is low and matter-of-fact. As tempting (and plausible) as letting herself believe nothing out of the ordinary is happening here, deep down that feels like too big a lie to let herself indulge in, like she would struggle to look Luffy in the eye if she did. ]

Sandwiches… [ Nami presses her lips into a tense line as that passing remark strikes a chord, making the hazy things she can't quite remember a little more vivid, however fleetingly. ] I had a dream that we shared one. [ The lock pops open and Nami steps back, tossing it on the counter as she shakes her head at him, suddenly eager to brush the comment off. ] Crazy, huh? Like you'd ever share food like that.