[ Were Snake aware of Angela's use of nanomachines on herself, a lot of things about her (or her physical appearance, at least) would make much more sense. But it isn't something that it seems wise to ask about. Questions like "why do you look so young for your age?" or "how is it that you never look exhausted like the rest of us?" aren't likely to go over well. That's Snake's assumption, at least; he should probably know better, seeing how Angela has yet to shy away from a question that he's asked.
The way she runs her fingers through his hair is what really gets to him, though, and Snake squeezes his eyes closed for a moment as he accepts the touch. He almost looks pained, but the fact that he hasn't yanked away means that it's something else. It's a rare thing in his life, for someone to touch him with this kind of gentle affection, and he hardly knows what to do with it. He's caught between wanting to melt into the touch and knowing that it's a slippery slope he shouldn't slide down so easily.
This is the problem with someone who's touch-starved: they never quite know what to do when they actually get that thing they've been deprived of for so long.
Angela's words give him something else to focus on, and Snake shakes his head. ] There's a lot of people in worse shape than me. I didn't think it was a priority. [ Besides, he's run into Angela anyway, so now he's sure that she'll tend to the wound however she sees fit. He doesn't actually wince when her fingers trace near his forehead; apparently he's more used to hands prodding his wounds than sliding fondly through his hair. ]
Water would be good for now. [ Snake knows he needs to hydrate, but he also hasn't seen much in the way of water sources around here, which is worrying. ] And yeah, something to pad my stomach too. Thanks.
[ It feels as if he should offer something in return, though Snake doesn't know what he has that Angela hasn't already secured for herself. He decides to express concern in one of the only ways he knows how, as he takes another look at the campsite. ] Do you have anything to defend yourself? We don't know what kind of wildlife there is out here. [ Or when it might attack all the new, warm bodies that have found themselves on the planet's surface. ]
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The way she runs her fingers through his hair is what really gets to him, though, and Snake squeezes his eyes closed for a moment as he accepts the touch. He almost looks pained, but the fact that he hasn't yanked away means that it's something else. It's a rare thing in his life, for someone to touch him with this kind of gentle affection, and he hardly knows what to do with it. He's caught between wanting to melt into the touch and knowing that it's a slippery slope he shouldn't slide down so easily.
This is the problem with someone who's touch-starved: they never quite know what to do when they actually get that thing they've been deprived of for so long.
Angela's words give him something else to focus on, and Snake shakes his head. ] There's a lot of people in worse shape than me. I didn't think it was a priority. [ Besides, he's run into Angela anyway, so now he's sure that she'll tend to the wound however she sees fit. He doesn't actually wince when her fingers trace near his forehead; apparently he's more used to hands prodding his wounds than sliding fondly through his hair. ]
Water would be good for now. [ Snake knows he needs to hydrate, but he also hasn't seen much in the way of water sources around here, which is worrying. ] And yeah, something to pad my stomach too. Thanks.
[ It feels as if he should offer something in return, though Snake doesn't know what he has that Angela hasn't already secured for herself. He decides to express concern in one of the only ways he knows how, as he takes another look at the campsite. ] Do you have anything to defend yourself? We don't know what kind of wildlife there is out here. [ Or when it might attack all the new, warm bodies that have found themselves on the planet's surface. ]