The door opened on Perona first.

Pink twin-tails, crown still on, white ghost dress torn open down the front. She stuck her tongue out, pumpkin bucket full of condoms in one hand, the other pointing at her own chest. “Trick or treat,” she sang. “Or both.”

Next was Boa Hancock. Horns, red-and-black outfit barely hanging on, Salome coiled behind her with another bucket. She stood with one hand on her hip, the other making a peace sign, eyes half-lidded and mouth open. “Treats,” she said, voice low. “Or I decide the trick.”

The third Nico Robin stepped into the light with horns and black gloves, one leg raised, fingers already between her thighs. She held the pumpkin bucket out and smiled with her tongue out. “More candy,” she murmured. “Or more of this.”

Last was Nami. Orange hair, cat ears, long white tail curling, black latex clinging and open. She looked back over her shoulder, tongue out, bucket in one hand, the other holding a strip of condoms. “Trick or treat,” she said softly. “I brought both.”

The porch stayed full of glowing jack-o’-lanterns. The four of them waited, costumes ruined on purpose, ready for whichever the night chose.