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Chapter Text

    "Lammy." 

    She looks up, and up, and she wonders if the ache in her neck will be permanent from looking ever upward, and she meets the hard red glare of Doflamingo's sunglasses. 

    "Could you do something for me?" He looms behind her chair, and he smiles without baring his teeth; Lammy's sure that he thinks that it's less threatening, but the effect is ambiguous at best. She's so used to seeing his wild grin that anything less throws her off balance, but when they are alone he dilutes himself. It must be her illness, as if her constitution will change if he so much as breathes on her. It must be that she's weaker than her brother. 

    "Of course," she answers. No matter his reasoning, he is her captain. Don't worry about Doflamingo, Law says, I'll do whatever you can't. Her brother treats her like a baby. He's the one who sought out the Donquixotes in the first place, and the one who refused to leave again when Lammy had expressed hesitation to join a crew of notorious pirates (she had been tired, and hungry, and her muscles ached, and she had cried), yet he acts like he can't leave her alone. 

    "I have a letter waiting for me in this city, with a fruit vendor at the market. His name is Bell." Doflamingo slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks. Finally his smile cracks open wide, and she finds herself relaxing. "I'm meant to pick it up from him in an hour, but I'm afraid I have a meeting scheduled. Do you think that you could retrieve that letter for me?" 

    Lammy nods. "Yes, Captain." 

    "You're so formal, Lammy!" Doflamingo teases. "Remember that we're family."

    "Yes, Doffy." 

    "That's better. You remember his name?"

    "Bell." 

    One of Doflamingo's hands reappears to muss her hair; his fingers are so long that she feels them reach the nape of her neck. She swats his hand away and pets her hair flat again, and he laughs. 

    "Don't push yourself. You have the time to walk to the market, and certainly time to make it back, so rest if you need to." 

    Her symptoms are more advanced than Law's by a steep margin. Lammy knows that she's smaller, slower than the other Donquixote children, and even with a galley hand's limited role on the crew she aches and tires easily, but she won't let herself fall behind. Doflamingo recognizes the determination in her eyes. 

    "Okay, Doffy. I won't," Lammy says. She pushes herself out of her chair and tests her balance. She wobbles, and Doflamingo catches the back of her sweater with a string thinner than fishing line. 

    "Thank you, Lammy. You're really saving me." 

    She stands independently and feels Doflamingo's string fall away. She nods, tips up her chin proudly. "Don't mention it." 

    "You're quite tough!" He must say it just to watch the way that she preens.

    "Pirates have to be," she replies. 

    "Take care," he says. 

    "Of course," she says. She'll return with that letter in record time. 

    Defeat seems to exacerbate Lammy's symptoms on her way back to the harbor. She walks slowly, her eyes on her feet.

    She had gotten to the market with time to spare, even as her lungs fought her for every breath, but she had spent hours looking for, waiting for Bell to no avail. None of the fruit vendors that she'd asked had known the name, and when she thought that she would be clever and drop the name Donquixote she had only gotten frightened, wild-eyed looks. Soon every eye in the market was following her from stall to stall, keeping tabs on Doflamingo's girl, wondering what in the world she was talking about. With the sun setting on the horizon, the cold creeping in as the light faded, Lammy had had no choice but to give up. Surely Doflamingo won't be angry, but her shoulders hike up around her ears when she thinks that he might be disappointed. Would Law have been able to find Bell? Would he have been cleverer or more persistent? 

    Low tide churns invitingly against the stones of the raised harbor, slapping the hulls of ships therein. The sound of the waves and the cries of sea birds lull Lammy into a sense of peace. No matter what Law would have done; he hadn't been there, and she had searched until all of the stalls were abandoned. If Doflamingo wants her to, she'll search again tomorrow. She lifts her head and returns a proud Donquixote pirate and feezes mid-step. Her heart lurches.

    The ship is gone. 

Chapter Text

    Waters Lammy is a ghost, despite her best efforts. She's sailed with all of the greats, all of the monsters; she's antagonized the marines; she's stolen and mutinied, fought fiercely, wearing clothes so stark white that she's visible for miles and in any crowd. The pluming white feather in her cap waves like a flag, catches the eye of seamen and soldiers, and wins her compliments with the common folk. She's recognizable, readily describable, and to everybody she meets she gives her name. She's never been in any newspaper. She's never been leveled a bounty. Her captains have been some of the greatest, loudest pirates in the world, from Whitebeard to fucking Eustace Kid (and she hadn't been able to spend more than a month on that ship, but it had been long enough to pillage, fight, and nearly die twice), but while her crewmates make headlines, appear in grainy black-and-white photographs, and find their portraits wheatpasted to masonry in town after town, Lammy remains in obscurity. It's unnatural; they all agree. Of course, acting out the way that she does, by the time that captain and crew find her blatant omission strange, they've already had more than enough of her and she enough of them. 

    She watches the Paramount War broadcast while her knee bounce with an incurable energy, her elbow propped on her knee, her chin propped on her fist, body shaking like a flea-bitten dog because she knows that, if she were there, they wouldn't have the time to edit her out of the narrative. 

    And the name on everybody's lips is Straw Hat Luffy. He's a pirate who's antagonized the World Government, itself. He's punched a Celestial Dragon. Not long ago, he fought the Tyrant Kuma, and now it seems he's come back from the dead. There, she thinks, is a guy who knows how to make a headline. She thinks it until he loses his brother and disappears, at which point she wonders if it isn't her fate alone; if there is some purgatory for younger siblings who don't have the power to keep their families together, and Straw Hat Luffy has joined her there. A tenuous connection, to be sure, but she pities him; she empathizes. Soon, like carrying on after a brief but brilliant fireworks display, people stop talking about Luffy's crew altogether. Their reign of terror is over.

    Lammy catches a ride under the Red Line with the On Air Pirates, and then she swiftly catches another with somebody else. Her own career won't end until she's unignorable. 

    The Straw Hat Pirates make an explosive return to the scene. Waters Lammy, presently of the Hammer Pirates, holds the newspaper so tightly that it disappears between her hands. Another Straw Hat headline, another spark of hope. 

    Don't you dare screw around with me. 

    Lammy feels her face contort in anger and grief, aware of the hesitant looks exchanged by her hosts. She dares, alright. She dares, but it hurts. It's been years since she's cried like this. 

    "For you, dear." The Straw Hats' cook presses a cup and saucer into her hands. Steam erupts into the chill air, carrying the scent of bitter greens. "That should warm you right up! And nobody can cry and drink at the same time." 

    "'Wanna bet?" Lammy asks petulantly. These pirates are supposed to be dangerous. She makes to down all of the hot tea at once, like a shot, but it burns her mouth and she drops the cup back onto the table.

    Straw Hat himself snickers, lazing back in his own chair with his coat long-abandoned on the sofa. The galley is warm, but the people are still defrosting after hours spent in the unnatural frost on Punk Hazard. 

    "Don't listen to him; he's an idiot." This from Nami, accepting her own cup of tea without acknowledgement or thanks. She devotes her attention to Lammy. "Let it out." 

    "I don't want to." 

    "But you should, anyway!" Usopp-- apparently their sniper. She's irrationally angry with him for having all of the fame that she's ever wanted and maintaining his anonymity. "Chopper, tell her about the chemicals."

    Chopper spins on his heel to face Lammy, his fuzzy smile warm. "Endorphins, Usopp! But you really might feel better, Lammy; don't be embarrassed."

    "I'm not embarrassed!" Steeling her resolve, Lammy scrubs her wet face with the sleeve of her coat until she feels the friction burn her skin. "And besides, I have things to do!"

    "With that guy?" Straw Hat asks. That guy. Lammy takes offense, but Luffy had only caught glimpses of Law before he destroyed the S.A.D facility and escaped with the unconscious Ceasar Clown. The Straw Hat Pirates don't seem to have contingencies for pragmatists. 

    "He's my brother," Lammy says, "Trafalgar Law." 

    Robin, a curious woman with wide, unblinking eyes, asks, "you use different names?" 

    Lammy answers, "We have a long family name; I've used just about every variation I can think of." 

    "That's interesting. Whatever for?" 

    "Because I'm trying to get my name printed in the newspaper." 

    On this seeming nonsequitor, the Straw Hats seem lost. Conversation continues down a clearer avenue. 

    "So he's your brother?" Nami asks, and she has to ask because Luffy appears to be dozing, his hands folded over his middle. Actually, a few of the crew seem to be napping. 

    "He didn't seem happy to see you," Chopper adds. He rolls a bandage down Robin's cheek and she thanks him with a smile. 

    "I'm sure he thinks I'm dead," Lammy says. Anger burns in her eyes, and tears threaten her waterline again. She hadn't waited to tell him who she was; she had seen him, her heart had leapt, and she had shouted across the lab: Law! Law, it's Lammy! and for a moment of time as narrow as the blink of an eye she had watched his face fall open in that way she hadn't in a decade. Her big brother, hopelessly sad. He must have seen her, then-- someone apart from the crowd of pirates, marines, technicians, and terribly sick children. She had thought that he would come to her. Instead she'd watched him hide the wound, and his face was pinched and venomous. Don't you dare screw around with me. Her brother's appearance in the news during their time apart hadn't prepared her for the way that he had soured. For the way that Donquixote Doflamingo had soured him. She'd wondered, but some naive part of her has spent the last fourteen years expecting the same brother back as the one that she'd lost. It isn't as if she's the same little girl that she was. She's so stupid.

    "That's horrible!" Franky and Chopper cry at once. 

    "How did that happen?" Nami asks. 

    Lammy takes a measured inhale. With her background, and her fickle crew-hopping, she's often confronted the benefits and drawbacks of explaining her life story to strangers: What do they know about Doflamingo? How much of her childhood ilness is it safe to share? And how much information do they really need to know if Lammy will only be leaving them in a few months? She isn't trying to be anybody's friend.

    But she needs the Straw Hats' help if she's ever going to reach Law. "We were sick as children. I won't go into it, but we were driven to the sea, and we joined a band of pirates. They took us even knowing that we would die soon." Why? Why, if they were only going to throw her away?

    "I was much sicker than Law. He would definitely live for a few more years, and I was always relieved when I woke up in the morning... I think I must have shown less potential.

    "One day, docked on some backwater island, our captain told me that he had something for me to do on shore and then abandoned me there. But my brother wouldn't ever have left me if he thought that I was still alive." 

    "And you're trying to reach out to him through the newspaper," Robin speculates. 

    Lammy nods. "I'm always doing the most outrageous thing that I can think of, but they've never printed my name or face." 

    "And you don't have a wanted poster." 

    Nami's welcoming smile has become brittle with nerves. "Lammy, who did you say your captain was?" 

    This is it: the do or die. So many crews have shunned her the second that she says his name that Lammy has stopped mentioning him altogether. She straightens her back and tries to look less miserable than confident. "Donquixote Doflamingo." 

    "The warlord?" 

    Luffy snaps upright in his seat, blinking as if his nap is interrupted by all of the shouting. The outraged voices of his crew get louder as they endeavor to speak over one-another. 

    "How did you piss off a warlord?"

    "You were on his crew?" 

    "Why are you telling us all of this?" 

    Do or die. Law's brittle expression subsumes her every thought. It frightens her, keeps her heartbeat loud in her ears even above the roar of eight combative voices. What happened to him? What did they tell him about her? Why is it so important that he never see her? She can't let this opportunity escape because the crew are afraid. Lammy launches to her feet. 

    "Straw Hat!" Lammy grits her teeth. "I don't want to lose my older brother! Please take me to Dressrosa; help me get through to him!" 

    There's a moment where Luffy's expression clouds, turns thunderous, where Lammy is sure that she ruined any chance of his helping her; invoking his own loss is unfair and she knows it. The sudden silence in the galley tells her that the others know it, too. 

    "Lampy," Luffy says finally, and her eyebrow twitches, but she doesn't say a thing. "We'll help you." 

    "I knew he would say that," Nami and Usopp moan at once, collapsing into their own chairs. 

    "I didn't!" Lammy shouts. She slams her hands on the tabletop. "You mean it?" 

    "I mean it." 

    "Do we even know where Dressrosa is?" Nami speaks into her folded arms, defeated.

    "What threat could you possibly pose to a warlord?" Robin alone is still smiling. "I'm excited to find out." 

    "I'm not!" 

    The rest of the babble around Lammy falls on deaf ears. Her chest tightens, and her eyes fill with tears. 

    Don't you dare screw around with me. 

    I'm coming, Law, she thinks, her head in her hands. I'm coming to get you.

Chapter Text

    The world's greatest scientist drives Law completely up the wall at the best of times. On days like today, when he's been beaten to hell by some nobody pirate captain, his dramatics are almost lethal. 

    To himself, that is. 

    Law thinks that one of the last things he'll do on Earth will be to dismember Caesar Clown as finely as he can. Pieces too small to operate a centrifuge; nothing but the faintest traces of gas in the air, dissolving the way that gas ought to do.

    His eyes rove passably lazily across the infirmary ceiling. Doflamingo would never allow Law's petulance to interfere with Joker's weapons empire. And he's already promised Caesar that he can watch when Law performs his final surgery, as repayment for helping Law's op-op powers reach their full potential. Caesar has been lamenting how long it's taking for fourteen years, and Doffy needs to keep his stooges happy. Still, a man needs to have a dream, and this one is a narrow second place. 

    First place? Get it over with. 

    Law, it's Lammy! 

    He needs to get out of here.

    "If you don't reset my nose," Caesar is whining, voice pitchy, "it'll heal the way it is. I'll talk like this forever." 

    Law shrugs. "It won't bother me for much longer." It's bothering him now. He takes Caesar's head in his hand, aware of an unsettling, lighter-than-air quality to the hair under his fingers, and pinches his nose with the other. 

    "With the fruit! With the fruit!" 

    Law snaps the cartilage back into alignment. 

    Caesar's eyes water, and though he's glaring, it isn't at Law so much as nearby him. "You brat! I'll laugh when you die!" 

    "And dance. And sing. And eat popcorn. And bring a hot date." Caesar has spoken often about how he'll celebrate over the years. It's practically a staple of breakfast table conversation. "You're lucky I was there to save you. Doffy can't blow you if you're dead." 

    "You remember that one?" Caesar asks, suddenly almost bashful. 

    "How could I forget? It was going to happen over my corpse." 

    "It's not like it would bother you if you were already dead." 

    Law smiles, wide, all teeth, learned from the very best. "It'll always bother me if you can't teach me what I need to know." 

    "It's not my fault you're an idiot! Get out of here!" 

    "Of course, doctor." 

    Law leaves the infirmary behind him and the smile falls from his face. He's cold even belowdecks, even with his coat still zipped to his chin. Sweat couldn't drive it out. 

    Law, it's Lammy! 

    Who knows that name? He's sure that there are Donquixote officers who still don't know that name. He doesn't even say it, himself. 

    Law, come here. Please, come closer. I'm so sorry. 

    He knows that she's long dead. He had cried for her endlessly, and he thinks that the grief, the love, must have been flushed out with the tears, because it's only the truth now. Lammy is dead. When he wakes up in the morning, she's dead. All day long, and then when he goes to sleep at night. She's dead even in his dreams. When Doflamingo invokes her name during his more... passionate encouragement, it doesn't fill Law with a dread like this. But knowing that that woman couldn't have been Lammy can't stop the bile from climbing up his throat. Did she have any idea of what it would do to him? She couldn't. How dare she? Why? Why?

    They saw her spots. I know. It happened so quickly. She had wandered away from me. The gun-- I know. I'm sorry. Breathe. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't save her. I brought this back for you. I wish that I could do more.

    Law had carried Lammy through fire and smoke, herded her past armies, held her as bodies jostled on top of them-- and why? Just so she could be shot, anyway? He wrenches the hat-- her hat --off of his head and buries his face in it. Burned! Like a plague! His baby sister!

    Who would do this to him? Why? They can't know all of this.

    He doesn't know how long he stands there, crying into the sweat of his own scalp. When Doflamingo had helped him wash the blood out, Law had almost been sad to see it go. It was her, after all. There would be no way that it would still smell like his sister after all of this time.  

    Law pulls himself together long enough to find a bunk and curl up in it, hat still in his hands. 

Chapter Text

    The crew turns in early, just as the sun is sinking below the waves on the horizon. One by one they patter out of the galley and into the twilight, painted with ointments, plastered with gauze, and with full stomachs. Lammy's injuries are minimal, and as a guest she feels less deserving of firsts, seconds, thirds, but the Straw Hats encourage her to eat as much as she wants, and she does. The meal is rich, composed of dishes that she hadn't known could be prepared at sea under rations, and it satisfies her hunger more than anything that she's eaten in weeks. When everything is cleared away and the galley is spotless, she doesn't want to leave the table. This table is like a miracle; there were such huge personalities at this table, and so much energy, and she hadn't felt like an outsider. She thinks that she could sleep right here in her chair. 

    The door opens and Nami's head and shoulders appear through the gap. "There you are." 

    Lammy blinks up at her. "Here I am." 

    "Well, come on! You're going to sleep with us in the women's quarters!" 

    She trails behind Nami across the deck of the Straw Hats' ship, enjoying in some small way the swishing sound of her shoes as they pass through the grass. No other ship that she's boarded has had anything like this. 

    The women's quarters are spacious; two beds swaying gently with the waves and two armoires secured to the rightmost wall, a vanity table in between them almost discreetly secured to the floor. Beds! Lammy thinks, like captains' quarters! The space is tidy, peppered with signs of life (a fallen stack of books on the floor that extends out of view underneath one of the beds, an open backpack underneath the vanity, a pile of laundry in the corner) and painted in sunny pastels. Robin is already here, rummaging through one of her drawers.

    "There are only two beds," Lammy says stupidly, for lack of a more coherent thought. She's still surprised to see actual beds at all.

    "Oh, yeah." Nami sighs, crossing to the armoire that must be her own. "I always hoped another woman would join the crew, and Franky could just build her another bed when that happened, but it never did. It's okay, though; you can take mine and I'll share with Robin." When she shakes her hair it cascades down her back like an ocean of fire. 

    Lammy glances down at herself furtively, aware of how filthy she is. Between crews as she is, she hasn't had the opportunity or motivation to freshen herself up in quite a while, and Punk Hazard was a riot of gasses and fires and panicked running. Does she smell? She must smell. If she were to pinch the hair under her hat, she knows that it would audibly crunch. Nami's bedspread looks so clean by comparison, and she would hate to dirty something that she's only borrowing. 

    "Were you going to take a bath, Nami? I thought that I might." Robin asks, tone light. 

    "Hm? Oh, no. Not tonight. I'm so worn out from all of the running Sanji did in my body, and--" Nami cuts herself off abruptly, then corrects herself. "Actually, now that you mention it, some hot water might do my muscles some good. Lammy, do you want to come? We have this beautiful tub. We even have a shower, if you don't want to sit around with people you just met." 

    Lammy purses her lips, embarrassment pinking her cheeks. They're not subtle at all. But they're trying to be, which she can appreciate; they're trying not to embarrass her. 

    "I would appreciate that." 

    "Well, great! We'll grab towels on the way. I hope that we have soap you'll like. Did you have your own? You could always steal mine, if you don't. Or Franky's. Franky's shampoo smells like motor oil, but maybe you're a motor oil kind of girl." 

    Nami keeps up a steady stream of chatter as they navigate the simple warren of the ship's greater crew quaters ("This is the boys' room. I really wouldn't go in there.") and Lammy finds herself relaxing as she does; less like she's being escorted to the bathroom like an anxious child and more like friends are joining her in the spa. Deliberately. As if Nami and Robin like her. 

    Lammy doesn't try to make friends-- she's too busy trying to make headlines, here and gone again when her efforts inevitably fail --but she thinks that it must be nice. Now she knows that it must be. 

    Robin kicks her shoes off and Nami crouches to unbuckle her sandals when they arrive at the bathroom door. Lammy hurries to untie her own boot laces. 

    "We try to keep the mud out," Robin explains, "but there are a few members of our crew who don't quite understand the concept." 

    "Luffy?" Lammy asks, perhaps rudely. And then she realizes that it was, perhaps, rude, and frowns. 

    Robin smiles back. She's been smiling all this time. "The Captain is one of our top offenders, yes." 

    "It wouldn't be such a big deal if he cleaned up after himself," Nami grumbles. 

    The bathroom is all that was promised. The large bathtub in the center is raised, in the perfect center of four floor drains, and surrounding it on all sides are finished wooden benches for towels, brushes, clean clothes. There are a number of shower heads sprouting from the walls, and round mirrors are inset between them. 

    "What kind of magical ship is this?" Lammy asks, finally, after room upon room of marvels. 

    "I know, right?" Nami replies. 

    "Only the best for the future king of the pirates," Robin says. 

    "I don't think the Oro Jackson had a bathroom like this." 

    "I said 'the best'. Of course it can't be just an inferior copy of Gold Roger's bathroom." 

    "What do your latrines look like?" Lammy asks.

    Nami shakes her head. "Like plumbing. Now stop talking about toilets because I get enough toilet talk from the meatheads and let's say goodbye to Punk freaking Hazard!" 

    Robin slips into the bathtub before the water's even filled it, nestling down onto one of the sculpted seats around the edge. Nami and Lammy seem to have come to some silent agreement about being naked for the shortest possible amount of time, and so wait for it to fill completely. Even then, Lammy can't bring herself to disrobe without her back to the other women. Baths on her previous ships were utilitarian, largely just swipes over her skin with a clean, wet cloth, but this is luxurious, and the Straw Hats are settling in for a proper soak. It sounds nice. It sounds great! But Lammy can't help but feel self-conscious. 

   "Fuck!" Nami shrieks. 

    Lammy jumps approximately three feet into the air and spins around with wild eyes. "What? What?" 

    Nami's wide eyes are boring into Lammy's torso. "I'm so sorry, Lammy, it's just--!" 

    She knows why. Her lips quirk up in a smile. "Oh! Yeah. Remember how I said I do every outrageous thing that I can think of?" 

    Outrageous; dangerous. They're practically synonyms. Lammy has accumulated injuries at breakneck speed trying to be the center of every conflict, and she's absolutely littered with scars. After believing that she would die at nine years old, it's almost been fun to survive so much. Poison could never kill her if a sword or a gun couldn't. She's alive, alive, alive. 

    "Impressive," Robin says. If she's disturbed  she doesn't show it. 

    "Don't encourage her!" Nami snaps. To Lammy, less harshly, she says, "doesn't that hurt?" 

    After the childhood that she had? The sickness, seeped through her muscles to the bone, in her stomach and lungs? "Not even a bit!" 

    "Get in, get in, get in! Rest that!" 

    Lammy snickers, shucking her pants with new confidence and climbing into the tub. "Most of them are so old! Relax!" 

    "Don't tell me to relax! Are you careful at all? Who's there to take care of you?" 

    Lammy finds herself not on one of the seats, but abruptly kneeling between Nami's knees, looking up at Robin on the other side of the bath. Nami's hands are rough on her shoulders, kneading the tense flesh. 

    Nami growls sharply. "You're so stressful! You're not a delicate lady pirate at all, and my dreams are crushed!" 

    The water is so warm that steam rises under Lammy's chin, tickling her still-dry face. She feels herself begin to unspool in the heat, sagging back against Nami's knees, which dig into her shoulder blades. Nami's hands disappear, and when they return they're slick with a floral soap that lathers under her fingers. 

    Lammy blinks once, twice. 

    "Geez, they're even layered on top of each-other! Are you crazy?" 

    You have to be more careful. What if you hit your head? No, don't cry... I'll be there. I'll catch you. 

    Relaxation melts into dullness, and now she sits like a puppet with all of its strings cut, the very ends of her hair curling where they touch the surface of the water. Lammy blinks again. 

    Robin leans forward and brushes Lammy's fringe off of her forehead with a light touch. "Are you alright, Lammy?" 

    Nami's hands disappear. "Oh, no; did I do something? Was I too rough?" 

    Lammy looks into Robin's eyes and watches her body blur at the edges. "No, I..." 

    "Are you dizzy?" Robin asks. She turns her hand, the backs of her fingers to Lammy's forehead. "Maybe you're overheating. It can happen when you move from a very cold place to a very warm one. It can be quite dangerous." 

    "Do you think I should go get Chopper?" 

    Are you stupid? It's like you're trying to get hurt. Don't cry, just be more careful! 

    "I'm okay," Lammy says unconvincingly. "No, really. I'm just... happy, I guess." 

    Robin has almost completely disappeared beyond the veil of her tears, but Lammy can hear the smile, the real relief, in her voice when she says, "Ah. That's okay, then." 

    Nami growls more quietly and her knees shift against Lammy's back. The next thing that she knows, hot water is cascading over her head, soaking her entirely. "You're so scary. Do you even have to try, or are you just like this?" 

    You klutz. Did you trip out of the womb? Please don't cry. 

    "I'm a born disaster!" 

    "And that makes you happy? Weirdo." 

    Lammy tips her head back sharply and sucks in a steadying breath. "Oh, no, if I talk about this I'm gonna cry..."

    "Oh, no!" Now there's a smile in Nami's voice. "If you start crying then I'll start to sympathy cry, and then my psychic connection to Usopp will make him cry, and seeing him cry will make Franky cry, and then we'll all be gross and snotty." What she says is absurd, even funny, but it doesn't sound like teasing. It makes Lammy laugh. 

    "Well, now I have to!" 

    "Oh, well." 

    The water going cold is what ultimately drives them out.