05-11-2010, 09:46 PM
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"Okay," Snake agreed neutrally—he was not exactly enthusiastic about music (he wasn't really enthusiastic about anything), but he didn't mind listening to it. Melodies always reminded him of his mother, though, for some reason. Quite opposite of her son, she had been very musically-inclined; she had played cello before coming back to New Haven and being captured. She would sing or hum tunes sometimes to him, and he had always liked that. It was comforting in the chaos that was that crumbling city. So perhaps his neutrality was not correct in this situation—Snake did like music, even though he did not understand it and had no inclination to learn how to make it. But regardless he gave a grunt to Daisuke's comment on kids today. When growing up, Snake had thought everyone went through the same shit he had. But when he had escaped New Haven and had seen children being raised in kind, loving homes... That had been rough. He realized how bad (in some ways) he had had it. But then again, he was tough. Snake was a survivor, a fighter, and a rugged individual. He probably couldn't say the same for those other children. He had never hated New Haven—it had tortured him, but it had also tempered him and made him strong.
He couldn't tell if his adjusted statement on getting help had surprised or pleased Daisuke, but he imagined that it had. Better than nothing, of course. The blond coyote nodded his head to the other man's acquiesce. But throughout his getting to some kind of comfortable sitting position, his movement had not escaped the observation of the wolf. And though he was originally inclined to say no to a massage simply due to the fact that Snake didn't really like people touching him, something told him that it would make him feel better. Less tense, at least. So, after a thoughtful pause, he gave a short sigh and replied, "Sure, if you want." Daisuke accepted the cigarette from him and lit it with his own lighter, and so soon enough the two were both smoking quietly.
Or mostly quietly. The wolf settled down next to Snake, saying something about carrying Snake that made the coyote give him a venomous sideways glance. The idea of being carried like some invalid was one of the more repugnant that could be presented to the man—it was just a personal pride sort of thing. "Not unless I am dying," he said very dryly, drawing a lungful of smoke from the cigarette before taking it from his lips with a hand. He exhaled a silver cloud into the brisk shoreline winds, ear flicking as he heard the wolf ask about the borders changing. "Yeah. Remember when I told you about my den being gone? Well, some Dahlians came in to Inferni while we were in their territory. They burned the Landfill, and a good deal of the area around it. To compensate for the useless land, we moved further north. There's no real problem in it really, sans me having to find a new den." He frowned, placing the cigarette in the corner of his mouth again. He really didn't want to find a new one—foolishly and childishly so. But he knew he'd have to eventually.
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"Okay," Snake agreed neutrally—he was not exactly enthusiastic about music (he wasn't really enthusiastic about anything), but he didn't mind listening to it. Melodies always reminded him of his mother, though, for some reason. Quite opposite of her son, she had been very musically-inclined; she had played cello before coming back to New Haven and being captured. She would sing or hum tunes sometimes to him, and he had always liked that. It was comforting in the chaos that was that crumbling city. So perhaps his neutrality was not correct in this situation—Snake did like music, even though he did not understand it and had no inclination to learn how to make it. But regardless he gave a grunt to Daisuke's comment on kids today. When growing up, Snake had thought everyone went through the same shit he had. But when he had escaped New Haven and had seen children being raised in kind, loving homes... That had been rough. He realized how bad (in some ways) he had had it. But then again, he was tough. Snake was a survivor, a fighter, and a rugged individual. He probably couldn't say the same for those other children. He had never hated New Haven—it had tortured him, but it had also tempered him and made him strong.
He couldn't tell if his adjusted statement on getting help had surprised or pleased Daisuke, but he imagined that it had. Better than nothing, of course. The blond coyote nodded his head to the other man's acquiesce. But throughout his getting to some kind of comfortable sitting position, his movement had not escaped the observation of the wolf. And though he was originally inclined to say no to a massage simply due to the fact that Snake didn't really like people touching him, something told him that it would make him feel better. Less tense, at least. So, after a thoughtful pause, he gave a short sigh and replied, "Sure, if you want." Daisuke accepted the cigarette from him and lit it with his own lighter, and so soon enough the two were both smoking quietly.
Or mostly quietly. The wolf settled down next to Snake, saying something about carrying Snake that made the coyote give him a venomous sideways glance. The idea of being carried like some invalid was one of the more repugnant that could be presented to the man—it was just a personal pride sort of thing. "Not unless I am dying," he said very dryly, drawing a lungful of smoke from the cigarette before taking it from his lips with a hand. He exhaled a silver cloud into the brisk shoreline winds, ear flicking as he heard the wolf ask about the borders changing. "Yeah. Remember when I told you about my den being gone? Well, some Dahlians came in to Inferni while we were in their territory. They burned the Landfill, and a good deal of the area around it. To compensate for the useless land, we moved further north. There's no real problem in it really, sans me having to find a new den." He frowned, placing the cigarette in the corner of his mouth again. He really didn't want to find a new one—foolishly and childishly so. But he knew he'd have to eventually.