[ Even if Snake does find moments to holster his gun (there had been weeks at a time where he didn't have to fire it, back on the Moira), there's always that knowledge that it'll have to come back out again at some point. Here's a man who'd attempted to retire over and over, only to be dragged back out each and every time until he'd given up on the idea entirely.
Granted, it had helped when he'd found his own cause to fight for rather than being ordered around by people with ulterior motives to satisfy.
Of course Snake couldn't be his real name, but it is a title he could hide behind, the same way that he ducks into cover when he's sneaking into a facility. What was it he told Meryl? On the battlefield, no one has a name. It becomes unimportant when your life is something that can so easily slip between your fingers.
Snake is becoming a little more malleable as Angela continues her work, like a string pulled tight which has finally come loose, allowed to relax and practically melt into her touch. It's taking a lot of his willpower to not lean the majority of his weight against her, and at this point it's looking like he'll be passing out as soon as they're done here, to finally get some decent rest. Regular massages would probably do him a world of good, and yet a routine like that is definitely something he'd have to find a way to repay.
It's become a frequent question that flits through his mind. Angela does so much for him, but what he can ever do for her? Well, apparently the answer to that question is that he can tell her more about himself. Snake has never understood why people would be so curious about him to begin with, but in this case he has to admit it's only fair. ]
Guess it depends on what you want to know. [ Another choked-down noise escapes out of him when she adds pressure to one of his problem areas, exhaling roughly before he nods. ] I'm not gonna say no. [ To her moving down his back, that is.
no subject
Granted, it had helped when he'd found his own cause to fight for rather than being ordered around by people with ulterior motives to satisfy.
Of course Snake couldn't be his real name, but it is a title he could hide behind, the same way that he ducks into cover when he's sneaking into a facility. What was it he told Meryl? On the battlefield, no one has a name. It becomes unimportant when your life is something that can so easily slip between your fingers.
Snake is becoming a little more malleable as Angela continues her work, like a string pulled tight which has finally come loose, allowed to relax and practically melt into her touch. It's taking a lot of his willpower to not lean the majority of his weight against her, and at this point it's looking like he'll be passing out as soon as they're done here, to finally get some decent rest. Regular massages would probably do him a world of good, and yet a routine like that is definitely something he'd have to find a way to repay.
It's become a frequent question that flits through his mind. Angela does so much for him, but what he can ever do for her? Well, apparently the answer to that question is that he can tell her more about himself. Snake has never understood why people would be so curious about him to begin with, but in this case he has to admit it's only fair. ]
Guess it depends on what you want to know. [ Another choked-down noise escapes out of him when she adds pressure to one of his problem areas, exhaling roughly before he nods. ] I'm not gonna say no. [ To her moving down his back, that is.
Just wreck him, Angela. It's fine. ]