Rosinante certainly isn't bothered. He's called his brother worse things and meant it. The small part of him that will always love Doflamingo regardless of his actions is drowned out more often than not.

At Soldat's - or, well, Sarge's, he reminds himself - comment, Rosinante stuffs the cigarette in his mouth and looks at his hands, covered in those dark, angry waves cresting with foam. But it makes him chuckle to see it.

"Could be worse. Like at the carnival when I just said whatever came to mind first. At least this leaves some ambiguity. Kinda reminds me of an octopus, actually."

Mm, octopus. Something to remember to order for later. Their supplies of fresh seafood are never quite as bountiful as he'd like unless he makes requests.

"Sorry to go on about my brother," he then says with a shrug. "He's not worth the wasted air."