11-30-2009, 11:58 PM
[html]
http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x242 ... ssnake.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">
Snake had no idea who Addison was, but he nodded. “They’re pretty rare nowadays, and the functional ones even more so. Time usually ruins the devices, and whatever ammo you can find.” He took the gun back from Daisuke, looking at it a little more closely. It wasn’t rusted, but he guessed humidity and time had cracked the mechanism—it didn’t even click when you pulled the trigger. He was pretty sure it was far-gone, but he had a strange notion to try and restore it as best he could. Regardless, he was going to keep it, if not just for show. Patriot had told him that CQC was meant to be done with a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, and he was kind of excited to try out the martial art he had learned the way it was meant to be.
He put the handgun into his back pocket, crossing his arms over the front counter and thinking while Daisuke roamed around a little more. When the thought of naming came up, Snake was silent for a moment. He had, for the longest time, been against surnames. They were those passed from parents to children in some kind of loving familial relationship. Snake sometimes felt like he had no family, even though he knew he did. He didn’t take any names. But what if he borrowed a name from someone who had owned the same gun he did now, so many years before? “I don’t know. Maybe.” He examined the back of his hand, as if there was something there he hadn’t seen before. “Snake—Hayter? What do you think?”
The golden lycanthrope had gone back to the jewelry he had found in the case towards the back, mentioning something about giving them as gifts to girls. Snake didn’t respond—he didn’t know how. He could count all the girls he had met in his life on one hand, and that included his family and their friends. All the rest were much older coyotes of the clan. Regardless, he wasn’t very interested. Machines had no place in their circuitry for passion. “You can try it, I guess,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. He leaned back from the counter, picking up three bottles between the fingers of one of his hands (skill, I know) and bringing them over to Daisuke. “Careful,” he said levelly, his gaze having an edge of flint, “Don’t drink ‘em all in one sitting, alright?” Daisuke seemed like someone who’d drink a little too much…
Snake had no idea who Addison was, but he nodded. “They’re pretty rare nowadays, and the functional ones even more so. Time usually ruins the devices, and whatever ammo you can find.” He took the gun back from Daisuke, looking at it a little more closely. It wasn’t rusted, but he guessed humidity and time had cracked the mechanism—it didn’t even click when you pulled the trigger. He was pretty sure it was far-gone, but he had a strange notion to try and restore it as best he could. Regardless, he was going to keep it, if not just for show. Patriot had told him that CQC was meant to be done with a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, and he was kind of excited to try out the martial art he had learned the way it was meant to be.
He put the handgun into his back pocket, crossing his arms over the front counter and thinking while Daisuke roamed around a little more. When the thought of naming came up, Snake was silent for a moment. He had, for the longest time, been against surnames. They were those passed from parents to children in some kind of loving familial relationship. Snake sometimes felt like he had no family, even though he knew he did. He didn’t take any names. But what if he borrowed a name from someone who had owned the same gun he did now, so many years before? “I don’t know. Maybe.” He examined the back of his hand, as if there was something there he hadn’t seen before. “Snake—Hayter? What do you think?”
The golden lycanthrope had gone back to the jewelry he had found in the case towards the back, mentioning something about giving them as gifts to girls. Snake didn’t respond—he didn’t know how. He could count all the girls he had met in his life on one hand, and that included his family and their friends. All the rest were much older coyotes of the clan. Regardless, he wasn’t very interested. Machines had no place in their circuitry for passion. “You can try it, I guess,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. He leaned back from the counter, picking up three bottles between the fingers of one of his hands (skill, I know) and bringing them over to Daisuke. “Careful,” he said levelly, his gaze having an edge of flint, “Don’t drink ‘em all in one sitting, alright?” Daisuke seemed like someone who’d drink a little too much…
table credit goes to jacoby
[/html]