Crocodile remained silent, his thoughts racing. Offering Ayr the remnants of Baroque Works? It felt like a weak gesture, especially with Alabasta still slipping through his fingers. Nothing he had seemed like enough and Ayr didn't strike him as someone easily impressed.
As Crocodile brooded, Robin stepped forward.
"Lord Ayr," she said, her voice smooth but cautious. She bowed slightly, her expression unreadable. "To atone, I offer my allegiance. If the Marines still care enough to chase the Devil's Child, perhaps I can be of some value to you."
It was a calculated move one born not from loyalty, but survival. Robin had spent her life navigating betrayals, slipping through the cracks of justice and piracy alike. She knew how to read power. Ayr wasn't someone she could escape from. So she adapted, as she always had.
Betrayal wasn't shameful in her world. It was instinct.
Still, she held her breath as Ayr studied her in silence, his gaze cutting through her composure. He didn't look impressed. He looked like someone who'd seen a hundred schemes just like this and crushed them all.
Then, with unsettling calm, he spoke. "Fine. Stay here. You'll serve as my secretary."
Relief flickered in her eyes, but it vanished just as quickly.
"Betrayal," Ayr continued, "is that your greatest skill?"
Robin flinched just slightly.
"It doesn't matter who else you've betrayed," he said, voice like stone. "But betray me, and it's over. Your freedom ends here."
She lowered her eyes and walked to his side. The dread hadn't passed, but something else had slipped in something unfamiliar. Not safety. Not loyalty. But a strange, unwelcome sense of security. It unnerved her more than Ayr's Haki.
From the ground, Crocodile watched it all unfold. He wasn't angry. In truth, he'd expected Robin to jump ship just as he would've done to her. Their partnership had never been built on trust. It had been an arrangement, and she'd simply moved to survive.
But then, a new thought struck him. If Robin could do it, why couldn't he?
He smirked, forcing himself upright through the pain. "Senior Ayr," he rasped, "I've figured out how to make this right."
Ayr looked down without expression. "Go on."
"I'll bring Baroque Works under your command. We'll serve you formally. Myself included." Crocodile forced a grin. "Not a bad deal, right?"
Ayr didn't respond immediately. He watched Crocodile with the same cold scrutiny he'd given Robin, the kind that made both pirates feel like their souls were being weighed.
After a moment, Ayr gave a faint smile one that held no warmth. "So all your crimes are forgiven just like that?"
He didn't need to say what came next. Crocodile understood: this wasn't acceptance. It was a leash.