11-30-2009, 11:11 PM
Oh my God, he's never talked this much in his life.
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“I’ve had plenty of vodka before. Don’t worry.” To prove it, Snake took the second bottle, popped it open with one movement, and took a relatively deep gulp from it. He placed the bottle back down, his face unchanged as ever. It wasn’t really surprising. He hadn’t had anything but filthy water and sour wine in New Haven, but once he and his mother had escaped and got back out on the road with Laurel, they drank spirits almost more than wine. Vodka, wine, beer, whiskey, rum—Snake was familiar with all of them. He had more alcohol tolerance than most other teenagers he knew, that was for sure.
While he had been testing the broken handgun, Daisuke had wandered off and had been looking at some jewelry (Snake could tell by the tingling sounds he heard from across the shop). When the wolf came back, he wore a silver chain around his neck—Snake found it somewhat tasteful. He hated things that were gaudy, and this managed to stay right below that point. The wolf seemed genuinely puzzled at what the gun was, though, so Snake handed it to him. “Handgun,” he answered before explaining, “A human weapon, and ten times more deadly than a blade. Patriot told me how they work—you put some ammo in it, and you pull the trigger. They shoot these tiny projectiles made out of metal, called bullets. They move so fast that, if you point it someone’s head or someone’s chest and fire, they’re pretty much dead on contact.” Snake admired the ingenuity of the humans—they certainly knew how to kill someone.
As for the name, “It might be. Some people named their guns. Kind of weird, I think. It’s either that or that was the name of its owner—so that someone else wouldn’t mistake the gun and take it. There’s some more writing before ‘Hayter’, but I can’t make it out. That might’ve been the guy’s first name.”
“I’ve had plenty of vodka before. Don’t worry.” To prove it, Snake took the second bottle, popped it open with one movement, and took a relatively deep gulp from it. He placed the bottle back down, his face unchanged as ever. It wasn’t really surprising. He hadn’t had anything but filthy water and sour wine in New Haven, but once he and his mother had escaped and got back out on the road with Laurel, they drank spirits almost more than wine. Vodka, wine, beer, whiskey, rum—Snake was familiar with all of them. He had more alcohol tolerance than most other teenagers he knew, that was for sure.
While he had been testing the broken handgun, Daisuke had wandered off and had been looking at some jewelry (Snake could tell by the tingling sounds he heard from across the shop). When the wolf came back, he wore a silver chain around his neck—Snake found it somewhat tasteful. He hated things that were gaudy, and this managed to stay right below that point. The wolf seemed genuinely puzzled at what the gun was, though, so Snake handed it to him. “Handgun,” he answered before explaining, “A human weapon, and ten times more deadly than a blade. Patriot told me how they work—you put some ammo in it, and you pull the trigger. They shoot these tiny projectiles made out of metal, called bullets. They move so fast that, if you point it someone’s head or someone’s chest and fire, they’re pretty much dead on contact.” Snake admired the ingenuity of the humans—they certainly knew how to kill someone.
As for the name, “It might be. Some people named their guns. Kind of weird, I think. It’s either that or that was the name of its owner—so that someone else wouldn’t mistake the gun and take it. There’s some more writing before ‘Hayter’, but I can’t make it out. That might’ve been the guy’s first name.”
table credit goes to jacoby
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