thisavrou_log | ( august event log )

( august event log )

Who: Everyone
When: August 16th and on
Where: The Moira + the Luminous Sea
What: The original Captain and the First Mate try to find the closest Ingress for help. The crew ventures into the Luminous Sea.
Warnings: None for now. Please label your content!

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reset in the regress
"Time is what we want most, but what we use worst."

With the Moira in a sort of low maintenance state, Captain Ira and First Mate Egan have been forthright with information at their disposal, and as the weeks have progressed, not much has been answered in terms of what has happened with the ship itself or why some of the crew are informing the Captain and First Mate of Ingresses all across the universes being broken. Early on the 16th, Captain Ira decides that Manasseh has been in cryo long enough to warrant waking her. With that decision comes the restoration of all ship functions—including normal water and power usage. Rationing continues, but it isn’t as strict (or enforced) as it has been the last few weeks. However, the Navigator appears and acts no differently than before, which troubles the Captain, and rather than shut down the Moira’s functions once more, he decides to redouble efforts to contact someone at the Midway Hub.

As before, when he first tried, no one answers.

Not completely discouraged, Captain Ira orders First Mate Egan and those in both Navigation and the Tower to put out a transmission to anyone with an Ingress in hopes of finding a technician or someone with enough information pertaining to the machinery to perhaps fix the one aboard the Moira long enough to get them to the Midway Hub without having to travel the length of the Runoff. Within the hour, they receive a peculiar return transmission that’s worth investigating since it’s considerably close. During this time, Captain Thán sends the following MID message to all Moirans:
Crew,

The last few weeks have been hectic, and I'm sure everyone has questions that they need answered. When Captain Ira and First Mate Egan approached us, we asked for evidence of their legitimacy and were given it through credentials, logs, and the private access codes that they had in their possession. It allowed us to see that they were, in fact, the previous leadership of the Moira.

Explaining why we took a knee is rather simple. They know what they're doing, and it is clear now, more than ever, that we do not. Every bump in the road that we've met, you have survived because of your own tenacity, and many of the deaths and hardships were our fault in some way. We found this ship unmanned and took it without any skill. It worked, at first, but then, you were all here, and it changed everything. We needed to grow to accommodate, and we weren't fast enough. As captains, we've failed you, but we do believe that Ira and Egan can do so much better. We'll be working with them to make the end of this trip as short as possible. You deserve to go home, and they can make that happen.

You also deserve honesty. The blame for the events on Caducus Primary are our burden to carry, not yours. The statues that their people believed had been stolen were on this ship, and we were responsible for them being here. Not long after boarding the Moira, we stopped there and were approached by a person offering us the items at a lower trade rate. We knew that it wasn't strictly by the books, but we did the deal anyway. When those actions came back around, we attempted to remedy them but were not fast enough and many lives were lost.

This is one of the reasons we have given leadership rights over. We've done enough damage, and you don't deserve anymore by our hands. For what it's worth, we do apologize for everything, and we'll be staying on the ship until we reach the Midway Hub.

-Thán
Whether believed or not, the previous Captains can still be found around the ship in their usual places of work. Onward, the Moira goes—

WELCOME TO THE LUMINOUS SEA

Unlike most places the Moira has come across or visited, the Luminous Sea is thus called due to its soft turquoise glow. While other parts of the Runoff consist of stars and planets, there is no life or anything remotely sentient found within this part of the universe. Yet, the most fascinating thing about the Luminous Sea is not the fact that it appears empty but for the sole reason of why the Captain and First Mate first approached it in the first place: it’s very reminiscent of Ingress energy. The ship is slow to move through the Luminous Sea, all those stationed in the Tower asked to observe and collect data to be sent to Navigation as well as those who have been reassigned to the Ingress. However, even stranger things are afoot the longer the Moira lingers within the ocean of blue-green space...

☄ IN, OUT, AND ALL AROUND

Needless to say, things are now a little… different on board thanks to the anomalies caused by the energy of the Luminous Sea. What once had been a simple journey using MPS to navigate your way around the ship has now become a risk in Location Roulette. Perhaps you’re simply planning to head to the library, but when you walk through the door, you’ve somehow ended up in the middle of the Mess Hall. Or you’re fresh from a nice, long shower only to find yourself in the middle of the Cargo Bay wearing nothing but your towel! It seems that the space inside the Moira has rearranged itself to make life interesting for the crew. The changes happen at random and aren’t guaranteed to work the same in reverse. Sometimes, a doorway will work to take you back the correct way, and other times, it might deposit you in yet another part of the ship you hadn’t intended to visit. Also, be wary of those areas of the ship that have been sealed for the protection of the crew and never go anywhere alone. Because nothing good ever came of walking through a door to suddenly end up outside the Moira or within the room that holds Ploiatos.

☄ 50 SHADES OF AGE

While in the Luminous Sea, some members of the crew are likely to wake up and find themselves a changed person. Literally. The unstable nature of the energy that encompasses the Sea and its ability to bend both time and space means that those affected by it might find themselves suddenly years younger. Or even older. What’s more, some crew members who do become younger might possess no memories of have ever been on the ship and will see the Moira through brand new eyes. Those who find themselves jumping to a point further down their timeline won’t be affected as harshly, though they will be tarnished with age as time tends to do. What’s best for the new and old alike is to remain calm and continue on their daily routines until otherwise instructed by the Captain and First Mate. Hopefully leaving the Luminous Sea will wear away this reversal in time and return you to the person you once were.

( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to job sign-ups as well! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's in that moment when that painfully familiar voice that somehow Kaz never noticed as being all that similar to Big Boss's before, that Kaz nearly jars right out of his skin. He reels on a man whose codename he can't even remember, but face he does.]

[A face that he last saw full of shrapnel, and before that pulling him off Paz in a helicopter.]

[At first he doesn't even comment. He's too startled, blinking owlishly behind those glasses, dumb for a beat because how do you even react to being presented with... with this.]

Yeah?

[Nailed it.]

[Even if it took too long to say.]

[ He sees that trepidation and interprets it as shock, a brand of disorientation that he empathizes with. Which is why his hands go up in that universal sign of acquiescence, palms open and reassuring. Relax, I'm not here to hurt you. ]

I was wondering if you could point me towards somewhere less open.

[ Meaning, 'not standing in the middle of the hall'. It's implied, and that's one thing that hasn't changed from Medic to Phantom— practical, simple sentiments delivered without much decorum. ]

...You alright? Maybe you're lost, too.

Hm? ...No. No, I uh... [He fumbles for an excuse, but aims as believably as he can. One he used before.] I'm McDonell Miller. [A name he never used at the MSF.] You might know a particularly annoying younger sibling of mine. I think it was you who was mentioned in passing. I could be wrong.

A lot of people with similar faces around here. [He makes a regroup motion in the air, glad for gloves that hide his strange set of hands.]

Sure. I'll take you somewhere.

[Not to his room, where there might be pictures. Kaz's own photographs are hidden, so he leads him that way at first.] I'll give you a map so you can find your way around.

Miller...

[ —Right, Miller. That explains the matching sunglasses, the straw-blond hair. The puzzle pieces align, and Medic's face lights with recognition, a relief that smooths out the emerging wrinkles in a face that's crept well into middle-age. ]

—So you're the Subcommander's brother? It's an honor, sir. [ A polite, immaculately-executed salute. Medic is expressive in all the ways Venom isn't, subtle lines in his expression speaking to the gentle smiles that he doles out with some level of frequency. ] Thank you.

[ He turns to follow Kaz down the hall, flashing that familiar MSF-logo stitched onto his uniform. ]

[It's easier this way, easier than explaining why he's wearing the emblem of another PF. Easier to assume that the military standing is just genetic. That these watered-down smiles belong to someone else. There's something grotesquely gratifying in this, too. What if this is how his brother would have been if he'd survived Vietnam. If he'd returned home instead of dying out there. Just without the trickery.]

[Better to not think of it around this man.]

At ease. Don't worry, it'll only take a minute.

[He gets to his room (luckily they're on the same floor), to be greeted with a dog that emerges and, after smelling Venom's hand, attempts to unscrew her head she's tilting it so much. Hell of a change.]

[Miller just spends a few moments collecting a copy of one of the maps he's drawn. He's no artist, but he knows how to use a ruler and straight lines and to trace out of books. Parts are labelled with arrows towards them.]

I like the library and the gardens myself. Both are usually pretty quiet. Out of the way. [Library smells like books. Garden smells like the good old days.]

[He finds himself looking at him for a long time, like he's trying to remember that face. An expression easily misconstrued. In his mind, he wonders about a guilty want. To ask him about himself. He thought for so long that Big Boss had saved him, but it was someone else. And while he knows it's not Big Boss, that its an entirely different person with more subtle wants and muted desires. Someone that wants to bear the aching responsibility of others, it's still "someone else". It would be nice if, even if Venom Snake doesn't remember this person, if Kaz could just get to see a tidbit of what he used to be.]

[How much of an invasion of privacy would asking him, be? Sure, technically Kaz's own privacy was null and void by Big Boss's replacement. But what sort of person would he be if he exploited that?]

Maybe after... uh... you're more comfortable, we can talk. I'd like to hear what you think of the base. Funny we get to meet on a spaceship, huh?

[ Everything is new to Medic, and is thus cause for scrutiny; yet another thing that hasn't changed much along the way, that silent tendency to assess. Though, again, this man is more expressive in ways that 'Venom Snake' so often doesn't allow himself to be (or has forgotten how to be, which may be more likely), if the way his face quietly lights up at the dog waiting in Miller's room is any indication.

He crouches on the floor with Mama's face settled near his knee, as brotherly as he is stoic while he runs his broad palms over thick fur. Distracted as he is by the big husky nudging into him, he dutifully doesn't neglect to note the differences he can observe between this man and his own Subcommander— right off the bat, this counterpart seems calmer, more measured. The world seems to weigh more heavily on 'McDonell Miller's shoulders, which brings Medic to wonder why it is that Subcommander Miller's never really mentioned him. It seems like it would've been a point of pride for someone who so emphatically embraces connections and bonds, having an older brother with storm-weathered brows. ]

I can't say that this is where I would have expected to meet you, sir. [ On a battlefield, maybe. Hopefully on the same side, but that's never guaranteed. ] But if you'd like to ask me any questions, I'm here to answer them.

[ Reverent, matter-of-fact. The way he tips his head to the side is distinctly reminiscent of Venom Snake, that nonverbalized inquiry which manifests in a behavioral quirk. ]

Edited (500 edits) 2016-08-18 07:29 (UTC)

[That open delight, even simply expressed, seems novel coming from this man. The tip of his head, though, just the same. He can't tell if he's looking at traits of a man that died, or traits of a man that survived. He's been told one thing, but he believes the other.]

That's Mama. [He says of the attentive, gold-eyed husky. Not a question, just information.]

You don't have to call me "sir", I promise. "Miller" will be fine. [He doesn't know if he'd remember to respond to McDonell, which could potentially be embarrassing. He walks over to the doorway, leans into it as he watches the Medic sink his fingers into the animal's fur.]

How is it there, for you and the rest of the staff? [He fishes for answers. Though it's easy to assume he's fishing to know what "Kazuhira" is doing, to scrutinize a pest of a relative and make sure he's being responsible despite every effort to seem the contrary.] Do you get along?

[Were you happy then, at least? Did I help give you a good life?]

[ There's clear trepidation in calling his superior's sibling without adding some sort of pomp and circumstance, but that eases after a beat of consideration. ]

Miller, then.

[ Still polite, formal without being stuffy. Medic isn't exactly stiff-collared, but he has an air of comfortable distance that dictates that he listen and respond rather than stand up and make himself known. A well-mannered elder sibling who watches his younger siblings play in the inflatable pool outside of their lawn, occasionally chiming in to refill the water with a garden hose. Caring, but still a pace or two out of reach.

The question that's posed to him isn't a particularly difficult one to answer, but he marinates on it with the same earnestness as the man he'll become, the man he always has been. Will be? Tenses are a sticky subject. ]

They're all family. [ When you spend a good bulk of your life with your hands on bone and sinew, you learn to respect your comrades like a part of your own body. He states this fact without too much sentiment— he's sure that every other MSF member would say the same— but with a light quirk of his lips. ] ...Subcommander Miller makes sure that we all feel included, at any rate.

[ His stupid activities, his singing sessions. Fishing. Soccer. Medic only participates when he has to (more often than not, he's the one patching up after some heated competitions), but he's been privy to them. They're fond memories. ] He's young, but he's talented.

[There's something about that evaluation that makes the "brother" smile faintly again. Just amusement at being "young but talented". He remembers actually feeling like that, feeling good about himself. Years later, he's grateful that part of his confidence did shine through. It took a lot of effort to climb to that position. And at the time, he thought he would be sharing his life with someone.]

[When he thinks of it like that, it's almost like a movie where a wife meets her future husband before he even glances at her.]

Glad to know he's appreciated and does his duty.

[Glad to know that he gave him a family, even then.] Well, I think- [he abruptly ushers Mama out, and takes the Medic by his arm to tug him from the room as well. Waiting until they were out properly before he makes sure the door is closed, and then continues.] -I'm going to the gardens, if you'd care to join me.

[He remembered that he'd not put his MSF guitar away. The rush is to get him away from it.]

[ He blinks when he feels his center of gravity shift, when 'Miller' takes him by the arm and muscles him away from the dog and out into the hall, map in tow. There's a commonality between the Miller brothers: their tendency to string people along.

Medic weathers it with a brief huff of surprise, one that gets lost under their collective footsteps. 'If you'd care to join me' doesn't leave him with many options, being that he won't refuse.

Blood is thicker than water, apparently. ]

Well— [ His brows knit, before they unfurrow in resignation. ] —you're sure? [ He's not interrupting anything, right?? ]

Edited 2016-08-18 10:29 (UTC)

It's another quiet place. I promise I wouldn't even bother you too much more. I'd just like to hear more about how it is there while I take Mama for a walk.

[Logical enough reason. Though as he holds his hands behind his back, he fidgets with the MID resting over his glove, setting it to record.]

[Because he wants to know. He'll transfer this to cassette later, but he needs this. He wants to hear that, before the hell this man was shoved into, he had a good life. Even if he can't remember it, just distant feelings, it soothes his own conscience to know it's been good.] You seem a little more... I don't know, pensive, more than social.

Not that it's a bad thing. I just know how boisterous he is and how he can work people up.

Kaz- [referring to himself in the third person is going to remain strange] -sent me some photographs of you and a helicopter pilot. [Good enough of an excuse as to whey he looks like he might recognize him.] Among some others. You take care of a lot of people there?

If he said anything about me... [ Medic isn't sure where to explain, given that all of this is coming from slightly left field. He's more amenable to conversation than his future self is, at the very least, evidenced by his comfort with his sparing but continued speech. ] ...well, I wouldn't know what he said. To be honest, we're not so close.

[ They occupy separate spheres, completely different circles. Which isn't to say that they've never interacted, no, being that Medic's always been one of the most depended-upon members of MSF, but. Outside of their duties, their schedules rarely meshed. They had a polite rapport, but Medic wouldn't exactly describe their relationship as anything beyond 'friendly'. ]

I take care of the others, yes. [ His vocabulary is more formal, his sentences fuller when he's conscious of his conversation partner's rank. ] Your brother too, on occasion. Both minor and major injuries. Colds. Food poisoning.

[ So much food poisoning, jesus christ. ] It's my calling.

Edited 2016-08-18 11:12 (UTC)

[Miller chuckles softly at the addition of "food poisoning", as if that made sense. He remembers being willing to put almost anything in his mouth. Drink anything. Some ill-fated attempt to earn an iron stomach lining? Who knew.]

He didn't say anything. He only ever talks about one person. But I know that one isn't the only person in the world. [A note of unhappiness there, almost contempt, almost disappointment, for this theoretical younger brother who needed to branch out. Because he knows he was too damn star struck to look elsewhere.]

I'm glad he has you then, because without someone to patch him up, he'd probably already be dead. He has a stupid need for approval. [He says as if he doesn't.] Willing to disregard himself as long as he's earned someone's attention.

Don't underestimate how valuable people like you are to people like that.

[He holds the lift for the other soldier.] I'll show you what area to avoid in the gardens, too. The Med Bay grows their medicinal plants there and some of them are poisonous.

[ Some MSF soldiers were ambitious: they watch 'Vic' Boss eat one frog raw and suddenly they're all lining up to do the same.

Too bad that some of those frogs were poisonous.

But like all of them, Kaz included, Medic is also hopelessly enamored by that one untouchably charismatic individual, so much so that he understands immediately when Miller says 'one person'. It's not surprising, and Medic is under the impression that it's because Miller isn't an MSF member that he can say that so casually, that Big Boss isn't the 'only person in the world'.

Sometimes, it feels that way. The man is a hero, a legend. (Medic's always been willing to die for him.) ]

...I see. He is pretty ambitious. [ A bit of a smile, again. ] I'm guessing it's because you're his sibling that you see it as vying for attention. But from the point of view of a comrade...

[ He stops to think, taking that long break that he'll come to be known for. ] ...It's reckless, but it's the sort of attitude that people admire.

[ Equal parts relatable, idiotic, and awe-inspiring. Medic gets inside the lift with Miller, nods politely at the offer to show him around the gardens. ]

[Every three seconds he manages to forget he's pretending to be his own brother, so the observation that Miller probably sees it as vying for attention- Really, is it not, though? He claws tooth and nail for it. So enamored with Big Boss that when he was told he'd always be second fiddle ~~which is the worst way to be played~~ he drove himself ragged for ten years to be otherwise.]

[And accomplished nothing but give Zero and Cipher more ammunition.]

[The Patriots.]

[It's ambitious, too, at least it's that. Something he finds no fault in. He's good at what he does, and his goals fairly worldly compared to others.] I guess I grew out of it, myself. Better left to the young.

[Even if Kaz has aged in such a way that he barely looks older at all. Funny thing is with no facial hair, this guy looks younger than Snake- and Kaz stares at those smoother, scarless features a beat or two, committing them to memory, before he stops them at the right floor.]

But you're not as ambitious then? Think you'll be helping patch together wounded soldiers for a long time?

[ Medic has no idea how old Miller is, but he supposes that he can't be much older than Kaz— 4, 5 years his senior, tops? He won't ask, but he makes a mental note that Miller is probably still younger than he is.

The question gives rise to a low hum, a mn that lingers for a brief second. ]

Ambition isn't for me. I'll be patching up the rest for as long as I can, and that's as far as I'll go.

[ When he finally comes up with an answer, it's accompanied by an exhale of a chuckle. Not exactly self-deprecating but self-aware, corroborated by the slight downturn of his brows (yet again, another commonality between him and 'Venom Snake'.)

Even so, despite the humble statement, it's evident by his broad shoulders and his steady posture that he keeps himself on a tight military regimen, adheres to a strict physical standard; it would be pointless if the Medic were the first to fall, and he's aware that he needs to survive, first and foremost, if he's going to be able to save anyone. ]

[The gardens haven't dunked in temperature, luckily; maintaining the plants is important. So when they head in a fresh, earthy scent takes over the ship's usually sterile air. Another reason Kaz likes this place.]

[As far as I'll go. He didn't dream of becoming Big Boss, of standing at the head of companies or leading armies. He dreamed of fixing people.] I think we military commanders forget to appreciate what their medical officers give them. So many out their fighting, dying, sometimes you forget that there are the soldiers that help their brothers in arms stand again.

It's valuable work.

[He can see Venom Snake in those facial ticks, in the tilt of his head, in his tone (even if words are actually easier for him) and in his subtle laughs and smiles. He can see him. Maybe he can just be happy that a bit of this good man survived, a sliver in a Frankenstein's monster of borrowed stories and official documents and other people's expectations. A heavy brow that gently curves. A determination meant to weather storms for his comrades.]

[They're things that survived.]

[Kaz leads him towards an area of flowers, explaining some random facts about them as he goes, like the ones that grow with glasslike petals or the ones that are carnivorous. As he moves more, he limps a little, not much but enough for it to be noticeable and make him regret not grabbing his umbrella.]

It is. [ He accepts that statement of faith without protest, because he knows it is, being a field medic is hard and valuable work. But the addendum is this: ] But it's not appreciation we're looking for.

[ It's one less soldier to bury, one less body to burn. Some fragile part of Medic just wants to avoid that heartache, and he supposes that that might be a brand of selfishness of its own.

Either way, he's not looking for thanks— just that he lives long enough that he can see another person get up and off that hospital bed.

There's nothing else he has to say after that, just a quiet attentiveness that he spares for Miller and his impromptu seminar, until he realizes that the man is limping. He's aware that nosiness is unbecoming, but it's a force of habit that has him asking: ] Hurt your leg?

[ So many of his comrades are prone to posturing that he has to be the one to ask first. ]

Huh? [He stops mid description, looks down at his left leg. Back up at the medic, then down again.]

It's a prosthetic. I'm- My brother is a little luckier than myself. Don't worry. Just hurts sometimes.

[The left hand of his conversation partner will be a ghost one day, too. And Kaz considers that appendage as he props his leg up on a bench and fidgets with metal through the pants leg, making sure that the thigh isn't tensing up for no good reason, checking where the generator caps his flesh and blood knee.]

You ever have to use resources found in the wild for medicinal purposes?

It's actually nice knowing they grow their own plants for that here.

[ The moment Miller settles down and pulls up his leg to reveal the frankly boggling attachment to his missing leg, Medic switches gears— from semi-personable soldier to hawkeyed doctor, surveying the scars peering from just above the rim of his capped knee.

He spares the question a brief answer, practical— ] Frequently. [ —before he takes position, motioning towards the bench and wasting no time in kneeling on the ground.

Funnily enough, neither Venom nor Medic are shy when it comes to fulfilling their duty: be it slinging someone over his shoulder or getting his fatigues dirty in a foreign environment, they're both amenable to taking action before asking for permission. ]

Sorry. [ Medic apologizes, regardless. ] Mind if I take a look at that leg?

[He almost argues, but as if he knows that he won't take a refusal Kaz sits this time. (Maybe years ago he would have shoved him off, but now he's more aware.)] I'm used to it. [He says, despite letting him look.]

Got it on the ship. Not really anything like it available at home. Don't know what I'll feel like if I don't get to keep it when I go back.

[There's that one hint of doubt, that despite his determination, his constant uphill struggle, his demand to fight, that after making peace with so many things he might be reduced to half a man again. He's lucky that the glasses always do their work, hiding whatever uneasiness he carries behind them.]

[Good thing this man doesn't know what he's going back to.]

[ With a nod to warn Kaz of what he's about to do, Medic runs his hands along the ridges of that attachment, feels the scar tissue and understands instantly that the initial cuts weren't made with any sort of care of precision. Meaning, the man must have had to weather this amputation under duress or something worse, which tightens Medic's expression and forms a deep crevasse between his brows in private contemplation.

It's not anything he's going to verbalize, because dredging up the circumstances of old wounds aren't productive, but his palms run gently down the ghostly prosthetic as if it were a real limb. Sets Kaz's 'foot' back against the ground, fingers leaving it with care. ]

...Yes. The technology is beyond me. [ Suddenly several degrees more formal, his expression still settled on a half-frown, before he gathers himself. ] ...I can't think of any prosthetic back in my time that'll work half as well as this, but I don't think you'll have any problems with this one.

[ A brief, apologetic tic of his mouth. ] If you find it hurting at any time, please feel free to find me. I expect I'll be here on this ship for a while longer, so I can take a look at your leg without the attachment. [ ha ha..... ha. ]

[He sits up the tiniest bit straighter as the palms run down his calf, involuntarily.] I can feel it. [He says of his hands, and "muscles" actually move under the Medic's palms when he shifts his foot.]

I'll be sure to do that. [He tucks down the pants leg, knowing it won't happen. He's tempted to show him what it looks like to turn it off.] After I lost it, I was saddled to a desk for a long time. But I coulda been dead. Instead I was saved by my CO. Carried me out during an attack, got past the enemy even. Stayed by me when I was healing up in the hospital. Sure as hell didn't throw a diaper at me-

-my brother tells me some things, sometimes.

[Part of him will always love Big Boss, that he met so many challenges, that he demanded so much excellence of him, that he wanted to keep Kaz around. But for half an instant, he forgets he's talking to the boss that he chose about the boss that he chose. Or rather, this man is his canvas. Like a muddled piece of art, a cobbled collection of black and white images into a collage slapped together with thick paint in stark reds, if you run your hands over the work, lean in close, you can see his texture beneath.]

[Kaz has to remind himself. But he keeps talking. Like he has to thank this man as he is without damning him at the same time.]

He saves animals and kids from war zones. He says personal hellos to all of his soldiers. He's not one to clamor for attention, just lets things happen. He has ambition, but it's only for us. He's a good man.

I guess everyone's got good stories about their leaders. What they've seen them do. But he held my hand in a hospital bed. Not many COs will do that. Hell... not even many friends.

[At least in Kaz's experience. But then again, he hasn't ever had many real friends, or any actual brothers to do so.]

[ Medic listens with gentle patience, with his knee and foot still braced on the ground. Chin tipped up at Miller, attention given to this long speech about a CO that he's never met, nor thinks he ever will.

The subtle jab about Big Boss lands— Medic remembers that diaper, resting next to the hospital bed like a bitter reminder of defeat— but Medic doesn't react beyond a vague huff of breath. Yeah, that happened, didn't it?

Once Miller finishes, Medic wipes his hands on his knees and straightens up. ]

He sounds like a brave man. [ Personable, too. Something he doesn't quite expect from Big Boss, but the mystique of the legend requires that air of unapproachability, doesn't it? In any case, he's not here to compare; his loyalty will always be to his CO, just as he expects Miller's to be the same. ] It'd be an honor to meet him too, someday.

[ There's no malice or facetiousness in Medic's statement, just a level acknowledgment that he sets down with a small smile and a cant of his head.

(Maybe in another life, he could have been proud of himself.) ]

He really is.

[But it's not like Miller is biased or anything.]

Unlike your subcommander, who stole a pig when he was a kid.

[That doesn't sound all that malicious, could even be pegged as friendly sibling bickering; embarrassment for the simple purpose of spreading a little chaos.] You ever get sent on a "Pooyan" mission? It's because his neighbors had a pig named Pooyan. The part of the story he usually doesn't try to tell is that he tried to make off with it.

[It's just because he wants to see this man smile that he tells the story. He wants to see how the lines around his eyes crease. Wants to see if his brows settle or rise with amusement. Or if he just gets defensive.]

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