[There is something on the network today; a sight that really isn't anything special. Just Otacon in the kitchen of his hotel room, cooking
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[He looked back at the Skarmory and just simply... shrugged. It was a shrug that said 'Otacon in the kitchen is like a force of nature-- you just have to batten down the hatches and plow the prow of your boat into whatever eldritch abominations rise up out of the ocean because of him'.]
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[There is a fire extinguisher sitting at his feet.]
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[Otacon is completely oblivious.]
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[Or possibly alarmed.]
[Hard to convey emotions when one is made out of metal.]
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What are you making?
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[Whatever is in that frying pan, it is not an omelet. It's a stretch to even think it's edible.]
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It doesn't look that good.
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That looks fun.
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You think so?
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Well, yes. Are you... trying to cook?
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[An Arbok is moping on the bed behind him.]
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[OH SHIT YOU AGAIN]
O-O-Ocelot...?!
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Though I have the feeling we're speaking about different Snakes.
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[Says the boy who can eat nearpoison and survive.]
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[OH FINALLY someone who understands the most lethal of chefs]
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