04-12-2010, 08:02 PM
[html]
A rare smile flickered on the coyote's lips, virtually indescribable in his own mind. It was strange, he never felt this way around people. Even with what he thought to be his closest friends, he usually counted the minutes until he could escape back to his own world of solitude back in the landfill. He just didn't usually feel comfortable around people. He couldn't guess what they were thinking; it was not like reading the movements of someone in battle. Just now he didn't know what Lucia was thinking, but it didn't matter as much to him. He was more comfortable than normal, not trying to edge away like he usually was. It may seem like a paltry matter out of context, but if one knew how antisocial Snake was, it took on more meaning.
There was silence, but he was so dense when it came to these things that he couldn't guess what to fill it in with. What her mind was filing it in with, at least. And when he couldn't assume, he didn't try. Eventually she raised her voice again, an agreement to his statement. His dark-tipped tail flicked slightly at that, pleased that someone shared his opinion. It was about time. Most of these canines in these parts, they were almost too feral in his opinion. They needed to realize that what the humans left behind was good for them. But what she said about the adrenaline, the high, he couldn't understand. Battle was not a thrill for him; it was as simple as eating or breathing. He shrugged his scarred shoulders. "They are more efficient." That was what it came down for him, at least. He wasn't entertained by fighting; anything that someone was trained to do became a job and not a joy. And perhaps that was the difference between the two warriors here.
"Mostly knives," he answered, "I was also taught how to fight in Optime form. It all revolves around exploiting the body's weak points. Like, if you break someone's elbows and knees, they won't be able to fight any more. But that is mostly it." His olive eyes watched the dangerous flash in her eyes with interest, assuming that she found such happiness in the thought of fighting. Strange, but he associated fighting with survival, and that was a worthy goal. Snake so rarely understood others, he rarely even tried in the first place. But he… he could attempt to try with Lucia. "You enjoy the battle, I suppose, yes?" he asked.
As for guns, he couldn't say that he had ever seen the one she spoke of. Patriot had a few, but they were all broken. He remembered one was a revolver, another a pistol, the third a submachine gun. He shook his head in response to her question, but reached behind him, into the back pocket where he kept his own prize. He drew it, a 1911 Custom pistol that was polished with obsessive attention, though the name "Hayter" was still scratched evidently into the side. "It doesn't work, but I want to fix it one day." He held it out to her, thinking she might appreciate it. No one else around here did. It was his own personal treasure, and he usually didn't show it to others. This was a special case, however.
[/html]
A rare smile flickered on the coyote's lips, virtually indescribable in his own mind. It was strange, he never felt this way around people. Even with what he thought to be his closest friends, he usually counted the minutes until he could escape back to his own world of solitude back in the landfill. He just didn't usually feel comfortable around people. He couldn't guess what they were thinking; it was not like reading the movements of someone in battle. Just now he didn't know what Lucia was thinking, but it didn't matter as much to him. He was more comfortable than normal, not trying to edge away like he usually was. It may seem like a paltry matter out of context, but if one knew how antisocial Snake was, it took on more meaning.
There was silence, but he was so dense when it came to these things that he couldn't guess what to fill it in with. What her mind was filing it in with, at least. And when he couldn't assume, he didn't try. Eventually she raised her voice again, an agreement to his statement. His dark-tipped tail flicked slightly at that, pleased that someone shared his opinion. It was about time. Most of these canines in these parts, they were almost too feral in his opinion. They needed to realize that what the humans left behind was good for them. But what she said about the adrenaline, the high, he couldn't understand. Battle was not a thrill for him; it was as simple as eating or breathing. He shrugged his scarred shoulders. "They are more efficient." That was what it came down for him, at least. He wasn't entertained by fighting; anything that someone was trained to do became a job and not a joy. And perhaps that was the difference between the two warriors here.
"Mostly knives," he answered, "I was also taught how to fight in Optime form. It all revolves around exploiting the body's weak points. Like, if you break someone's elbows and knees, they won't be able to fight any more. But that is mostly it." His olive eyes watched the dangerous flash in her eyes with interest, assuming that she found such happiness in the thought of fighting. Strange, but he associated fighting with survival, and that was a worthy goal. Snake so rarely understood others, he rarely even tried in the first place. But he… he could attempt to try with Lucia. "You enjoy the battle, I suppose, yes?" he asked.
As for guns, he couldn't say that he had ever seen the one she spoke of. Patriot had a few, but they were all broken. He remembered one was a revolver, another a pistol, the third a submachine gun. He shook his head in response to her question, but reached behind him, into the back pocket where he kept his own prize. He drew it, a 1911 Custom pistol that was polished with obsessive attention, though the name "Hayter" was still scratched evidently into the side. "It doesn't work, but I want to fix it one day." He held it out to her, thinking she might appreciate it. No one else around here did. It was his own personal treasure, and he usually didn't show it to others. This was a special case, however.