05-14-2010, 12:34 AM
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He didn't like what he heard in Daisuke's tone—a kind of eagerness that he never liked to hear when it came to war, to fighting. He had been trained so exclusively that anything like this seemed naive and foolish. You fought when it was necessary—looking for fights was simply endangering your own life, practically akin to suicide. A waste of a life and a waste of a soldier. That was how Snake had been taught, to be the shield and not the sword. And so Snake gave his friend a quick glance with his olive eyes before returning his gaze to the front, unable to hold the emotion with the liberating feeling of his muscles getting worked on. He could feel it transition from his shoulders to his back, definitely where it was the worst. He grunted at the wolf's reply on the other drug that he smoked, something called marijuana or Mary-Jane or something. Snake had heard the name before, and it sent up a red flag. "Yeah, but I can't use anything like that. I have to be ready to fight," he said, though he didn't really feel like he was missing much. His mind wasn't really a place he would want to escape into.
And no matter what he said, Snake couldn't consider any place underground. The thought was virtually repugnant. But he said, "I guess," as a white flag, not wanting to argue. He thought that building dens under trees and such was a little behind them now—with their biped forms, they could colonize new areas of Earth that they hadn't before. Why stay where the wolves of old had when they could move into cities? Even though Snake hated the thought of living in buildings. That was why he had loved that goddamn car so much—wouldn't fall apart on him, he could sleep on the roof in good nights, it was mostly weatherproof. He gave a sigh.
As for helping Daisuke when he moved, that was something that Snake didn't have to think twice on. He would usually do what others asked of him, as long as he didn't have a conflict of morals or obligations. "Sure, I'll help," he replied, breathing out smoke and glancing at his cigarette. It was spent, the flame burning towards the orange filter. The coyote frowned and stubbed it out in the dirt. He straightened up slightly as Daisuke guided him, murmuring a, "Yeah," when he gave his directions. And sure, the wolf's elbow against the tense muscles of his back hurt, but he could block it easily. Plus, he knew it would feel better later. As a small stint of silence stretched Snake's face grew impassive as he considered what Daisuke had talked about in the vein of him helping move. Usually he would keep such a thought to himself, but Snake's words were not as guarded as they once were—so many of those barriers had been broken as of late. "I still don't know why you want to spend time with me at all," he grumbled in a low voice. He didn't have a low esteem for himself, he had a realistic vision. He was a broken individual who had problems with social interaction—he was amazed anyone put up with him at all.
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He didn't like what he heard in Daisuke's tone—a kind of eagerness that he never liked to hear when it came to war, to fighting. He had been trained so exclusively that anything like this seemed naive and foolish. You fought when it was necessary—looking for fights was simply endangering your own life, practically akin to suicide. A waste of a life and a waste of a soldier. That was how Snake had been taught, to be the shield and not the sword. And so Snake gave his friend a quick glance with his olive eyes before returning his gaze to the front, unable to hold the emotion with the liberating feeling of his muscles getting worked on. He could feel it transition from his shoulders to his back, definitely where it was the worst. He grunted at the wolf's reply on the other drug that he smoked, something called marijuana or Mary-Jane or something. Snake had heard the name before, and it sent up a red flag. "Yeah, but I can't use anything like that. I have to be ready to fight," he said, though he didn't really feel like he was missing much. His mind wasn't really a place he would want to escape into.
And no matter what he said, Snake couldn't consider any place underground. The thought was virtually repugnant. But he said, "I guess," as a white flag, not wanting to argue. He thought that building dens under trees and such was a little behind them now—with their biped forms, they could colonize new areas of Earth that they hadn't before. Why stay where the wolves of old had when they could move into cities? Even though Snake hated the thought of living in buildings. That was why he had loved that goddamn car so much—wouldn't fall apart on him, he could sleep on the roof in good nights, it was mostly weatherproof. He gave a sigh.
As for helping Daisuke when he moved, that was something that Snake didn't have to think twice on. He would usually do what others asked of him, as long as he didn't have a conflict of morals or obligations. "Sure, I'll help," he replied, breathing out smoke and glancing at his cigarette. It was spent, the flame burning towards the orange filter. The coyote frowned and stubbed it out in the dirt. He straightened up slightly as Daisuke guided him, murmuring a, "Yeah," when he gave his directions. And sure, the wolf's elbow against the tense muscles of his back hurt, but he could block it easily. Plus, he knew it would feel better later. As a small stint of silence stretched Snake's face grew impassive as he considered what Daisuke had talked about in the vein of him helping move. Usually he would keep such a thought to himself, but Snake's words were not as guarded as they once were—so many of those barriers had been broken as of late. "I still don't know why you want to spend time with me at all," he grumbled in a low voice. He didn't have a low esteem for himself, he had a realistic vision. He was a broken individual who had problems with social interaction—he was amazed anyone put up with him at all.