(no subject)
Filled prompt from a meme, edited a little and posted for posterity 'cause I'm fond of it.
- David started smoking at a pretty young age. When he joined the military, he bought a shiny steel lighter with his first paycheck. The kind that would take a beating and still last longer than you did. When he joined FOXHOUND, it was one of the few things he brought with him from his old life.
- He'd been back barely more than a day, even if it felt like a hell of a lot longer. There were probably other things he should be doing instead of hiding on the roof in the middle of the night and chain-smoking. But it was better than talking about what happened at Outer Heaven. Before Snake even fully realized he was there, Fox had reached over and deftly plucked Snake's lighter from his restless fingers to light a cigarette of his own.
- Snake didn't manage to smuggle his own lighter into Zanzibar with him, picking up a cheap disposable off the first guard he knocked out. When he confronted Big Boss, weaponless, he managed to find another one. Eerily similar in shape and make to his own, if older, worn down. When he'd finally fled, at the end off it all, he realized that he still had it. Clenched hard enough in his hand to drive the blunt edges into his palm. He threw it out of the chopper when he was sure no one was looking.
- Meryl didn't smoke, at least not during the short time they lived together. One night Snake spent the entire evening away. Watching the horizon, pensively flicking a flame to life, only to extinguish it again and again. When he finally came back home, the first thing he did was to pull her in for a kiss, unexpectedly. She punched him in the shoulder and told him he tasted like ashes.
- Otacon was a lot of things. He wasn't a pushover. He wasn't a soldier either. The aftermath of the Big Shell was a blur for both of them. Too much to do, not enough time. All while dodging the relevant authorities. It wasn't until they were safely back underground that Otacon could resume mourning his sister. With little else to do in the thick silence of the night, Snake leaned against his friend's closed door and reached down into a pocket. Of course, all he found was cool, scratched metal. He'd given Raiden his cigarettes.
- It wasn't the smoking that was killing him. It sure as hell wasn't doing him many favors, but at the least it seemed to take the edge off when the pain got too bad. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, the less steady Snake's hands got, the harder it became flick a flame to life with the same practiced motion he'd perfected years ago, long before Otacon had been around to nag him about quitting. When he finally fumbled it during the briefing, Otacon reached down to retrieve his fallen lighter. Eyed the cigarette Snake was holding with tired, familiar disapproval. And held up a flame to light it for him.
- It can be hard to let go sometimes, after so many years. Snake left a lot of things behind at Arlington that day, after lighting Big Boss' last cigar.
He didn't really need it anymore.
- David started smoking at a pretty young age. When he joined the military, he bought a shiny steel lighter with his first paycheck. The kind that would take a beating and still last longer than you did. When he joined FOXHOUND, it was one of the few things he brought with him from his old life.
- He'd been back barely more than a day, even if it felt like a hell of a lot longer. There were probably other things he should be doing instead of hiding on the roof in the middle of the night and chain-smoking. But it was better than talking about what happened at Outer Heaven. Before Snake even fully realized he was there, Fox had reached over and deftly plucked Snake's lighter from his restless fingers to light a cigarette of his own.
- Snake didn't manage to smuggle his own lighter into Zanzibar with him, picking up a cheap disposable off the first guard he knocked out. When he confronted Big Boss, weaponless, he managed to find another one. Eerily similar in shape and make to his own, if older, worn down. When he'd finally fled, at the end off it all, he realized that he still had it. Clenched hard enough in his hand to drive the blunt edges into his palm. He threw it out of the chopper when he was sure no one was looking.
- Meryl didn't smoke, at least not during the short time they lived together. One night Snake spent the entire evening away. Watching the horizon, pensively flicking a flame to life, only to extinguish it again and again. When he finally came back home, the first thing he did was to pull her in for a kiss, unexpectedly. She punched him in the shoulder and told him he tasted like ashes.
- Otacon was a lot of things. He wasn't a pushover. He wasn't a soldier either. The aftermath of the Big Shell was a blur for both of them. Too much to do, not enough time. All while dodging the relevant authorities. It wasn't until they were safely back underground that Otacon could resume mourning his sister. With little else to do in the thick silence of the night, Snake leaned against his friend's closed door and reached down into a pocket. Of course, all he found was cool, scratched metal. He'd given Raiden his cigarettes.
- It wasn't the smoking that was killing him. It sure as hell wasn't doing him many favors, but at the least it seemed to take the edge off when the pain got too bad. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, the less steady Snake's hands got, the harder it became flick a flame to life with the same practiced motion he'd perfected years ago, long before Otacon had been around to nag him about quitting. When he finally fumbled it during the briefing, Otacon reached down to retrieve his fallen lighter. Eyed the cigarette Snake was holding with tired, familiar disapproval. And held up a flame to light it for him.
- It can be hard to let go sometimes, after so many years. Snake left a lot of things behind at Arlington that day, after lighting Big Boss' last cigar.
He didn't really need it anymore.