Franky chewed on Hugh's words as the last adjustments were made and the group set off. Along the way, Franky had to get used to the new sensation. Franky was excessively aware that they had been walking for a long period of time in the same direction. Usually, Franky's freedom to walk in any direction was limited by the radius of his ship. By nature he would be forced to turn back on himself after a certain amount of paces otherwise he would be walking amongst the fishes. It was almost nauseating for him to be walking in tandem in a singular direction for so long, striking his psyche like torture. At one point, all got a bit much for the pirate and slumped with a deep sigh into a crouch. By chance, he happened to slouch into a flower bed, and daisies of various colours surrounded him. Franky waved the back side of his iron axe against the petals before culling one particular daisy head with the front. He raised the pruned flower to his nose and embraced the scent flooding his nostrils.

Something within him began to settle, calming his soul immensely. While his eyes were closed and his lips forming into a soft smile, the pirate instinctively rose to his feet. When he opened his eyes, he could see he was a little ways off from the main group due to his distraction. He lifted up his axe and rested it over his shoulder and marched on, following behind the group.

By the time he arrived at the de facto camp, Franky was aware of some unrest, catching the back end of Hugh's speech regarding helping the nearby settlement. It appeared that everyone was settling into formation directed by the troupe's resident tactician.