(closed) you wanna be where you can see

[shashka]

Who: Big Boss & Ocelot, with cameos by Venom Snake and Kazuhira Miller
When: after this
Where: some bar in r1 kauto
What: John and Adam have an excellent adventure AKA two grown-ass men blow a year's worth of rent on alcohol while trying not to be sad about their mom.
Warnings: solving your problems with alcohol. guys being bros.

[ the thing with always being kept waiting is the fact that it gives you time to prepare. the bar that Adam gave John directions to is similar enough to a dive bar you might find in a big city like New York, or Moscow (...well. perhaps it was slightly more reputable than any bar you might find in Moscow). immediately, he grabs a table for two in a more secluded corner, ensuring that they weren't likely to be overheard or interrupted. once a spy, always a spy, after all.

in the centre of the bar is a stage, complete with one of those karaoke machines that are popular in Japan. currently, there's a rather sad-looking local doing a rendition of something that sounds suspiciously like a hit song from the 1970's. not that it's exactly easy to tell. Adam cannot help but think that any more live "entertainment" will only drive them both to drink more quickly (which, given the circumstances might be just as well).

he has the bartender leave him a two bottles each of vodka and whiskey, ignoring the judgmental look that he's given (if nothing else, the amount of money they'll end up dropping on the alcohol here should win them goodwill with the locals). by the end of this evening, he hopes that John's melancholy will be alleviated ever so slightly. it was the least he could do for his friend.

(and, a part of him also hopes that for the first time in his life he'll feel the bitter taste of defeat when Adam emerges victorious.) ]

Comments

[camouflage]

[though his rugged outward appearance would say otherwise, john had never been a big drinker. before the 60s, drinking had been for celebration. though that had quickly rectified itself. he wonders if the reason his civilian life never worked out was because he was too idle, left with nothing to occupy him but drinking. then there had been a few times after the patriots. after peace walker. after his coma. after coming back from the moira. the point is, this isn't his first time escaping into a bottle to avoid anymore trauma and it certainly won't be his last.

john would like to say he's not an alcoholic. he can go cold turkey whenever he wants.

but that's really neither here nor there. he's just looking to distract himself, that's all. he's not running away from his problems. although the look he imagined joy giving him when he had left her at the apartment would probably say otherwise.

for once, ocelot waits no longer than he had originally planned for. john had only idled long enough at home to shower, change into fresh clothes, and get joy settled in for a long night by herself. the old soldier had no disillusions that he would win their little contest, but it would sure as hell take a long time to lose. after all, he had a lot of experience in this.

the bar is easy enough to find; some hole-in-the-wall that was perfect to stay anonymous in. have some peace and quiet. well, they would, anyway, once the guy crooning horribly on stage got tired of it. he steers himself over to the back of the bar, where he knows without a doubt someone like adam will be, and makes himself comfortable across from his friend. and, like any good friend who knew just about everything there was to know about a person except for how to fix him, ocelot is already prepared with bottles of whiskey.]

Am I really that stereotypical of an American?

[shashka]

[ in contrast, despite the reputation of his countrymen, Ocelot rarely drank in excess (or, rarely drank in excess compared to other Soviets). in fact, the only time he could say that he'd ever been drunk had been when he was a young man, just promoted to Major. the reasons were numerous but they all came down to the nature of who he was. drinking had usually been a social activity for him, and there was no one he trusted enough to allow himself to drop his guard with (although the same could not be said for some of the "comrades" whose company he kept. there was no better way to obtain information, after all).

but like with so many other things, John was an exception to that rule. his lips quirk into a smirk, and there's a hint of arrogance reminiscent of that from his youth. ]

I thought it was appropriate. The might of the United States against the endurance of the Soviet Union. To make it interesting, the winner gets to decide what we eat for the next month.

[ though neither of them were exaclty what anyone would call 'loyal' to their respective countries.

and as Adam pours them their shots, for the first time since why'd met, he feels confident that he can best John in something. ]

How did you want to do this? Exchange stories until we find something worth toasting for?

[ as with most things, he defers to his best friend.

(in the meantime, the guy up on stage has moved onto butchering something that might've sounded like Queen's "fat bottomed girls", at some point.) ]

[camouflage]

[at the mention of the stakes, john almost laughs. he knows what this is about. if there's one thing the two of them don't necessarily see eye-to-eye on, it's their food. though the old soldier wouldn't call adam picky (at least, not to his face), he knows that wild game more than once in a while is probably a little much for anyone's stomach. not everyone can have a trash compactor for a digestive system, though he tends to forget. except for his exotic hunts, john's taste in food is probably otherwise bland. he's a simple man, after all.

of course, if ocelot is so tired of their choices in cuisine that he'd stake a contest on it (a contest he is sure to win, john knows), why does he keep eating everything big boss puts in front of him? it's an utter mystery.

still, john nods his head in agreement. it's no skin off his back if he has to eat whatever russian dishes adam is sure to come up with. he just won't like it. the god-awful taste of those russian rations rise up unbidden on the back of his tongue, like he ate one just hours ago instead of years.]

You mean you haven't been keeping tabs on me since the 70s? I don't think there's a single story I could tell you that you don't know about.

[john leans forward on the table, forearms and hands bare for once as he changed into a simple t-shirt for this outing, and grabs at his shot of whiskey. he leans it slightly towards adam, an impromptu toast, and smiles just the tiniest bit.]

I think this toast should just be for the miracle of the two of us occupying the same space for once. So, to space, I guess.

[and he knocks it back fluidly.]

[shashka]

To space.

[ Adam would like to say he's not a picky eater. he is merely a normal human being when it comes to food. and it's not like he'd ever make anyone willingly choke down Russian rations. it... just might be a nice change to have beef stroganoff instead of... whatever mystery meat his friend has brought back. even if sour cream does take some of the edge off of things.

(as for why he chokes down every single thing John brings home? why did he stay by his bedside for nine years, why did he work with Miller, never complaining or so he would insist? the answer was always the same.)

in turn, Adam knocks back his shot of vodka, barely feeling the burn as it goes down. he's dressed in something slightly more casual as well, wearing a simple plaid shirt and jeans. though, he still keeps his signature boots and red gloves. ]

I'm sure there's one or two weeks I don't know about. [ a pause ] But you are from a little further ahead, aren't you? Meet anyone interesting?

[ he thinks for a moment on what he should toast for. he ends up settling on the one thing that he knows that the Boss wouldn't be disappointed in either of them for. ]

If you think about it, the fact we became friends at all is a miracle. [ what a pair they made. the Boss's biological son and her chosen son. ] So, to our friendship.

[ and down goes a second shot. ]

[camouflage]

[the second shot of whiskey settles warmly in his gut, like molten lead. it's a pleasant feeling, after having been outside in chioni's quickly freezing forests. generally, cold air has little to no effect on john, even if the wind starts to sting at ten degrees or less. if anything, it's the heat that gets to him; after operating in the middle east for almost six years, he's used to the dry heat of 120 degrees fahrenheit. anything higher than that or the sticky feeling of excess humidity generally puts him in a disagreeable mood.]

A miracle, huh? I think ever since that fight in the WIG, that's all we were hurtling towards.

[he had never pulled the trigger on that revolver, after all. trying to imagine a world where they had never become friends was impossible for john.[

I keep forgetting you're half a decade behind me. You're not so much different in the 90s. Longer hair and you never take that beat-up duster coat off, but you're still the same. [granted, they had only seen each other once since the end of Diamond Dogs, but it was enough, john supposed. he would prefer that adam not be entrenched into several different world political situations at once, but he would never get everything he wanted.]

Did you know that I made contact with Frank again?

[shashka]

[ he chuckles. ]

You never did tell me why you didn't shoot.

[ he gestures with his hands, just like he did when he was a young man. over half his life, he'd willingly integrated himself in this man's orbit, knowing that even while they were apart, they'd inevitably meet again, time after time. unlike some others that they knew, just knowing he was out there, somewhere in the world, had almost always been enough for Ocelot.

and he'd do everything in his power to keep it that way. ]

You know, I always told myself I'd get it cut when we got out of Afghanistan. Go back to being a presentable GRU officer. But, I'm starting to like it.

[ though having gone gray so early would always be a particular sore spot for him.

who would Ocelot be if he wasn't triple, or quadruple-crossing some government or another? life would get far too boring, just staying in one place. he raises an eyebrow ]

The kid from the "Perfect Soldier Project"? [ and yet another pie that Zero had his fingers in. ] I trust your judgement.

[ as he did on most things, with one or two exceptions. ]

[camouflage]

A real mystery.

[it's not a decision he can properly convey into words. hindsight had made it clear why that was the right choice, but at the moment of it occurring, it just been more of a gut reaction than actual reasoning. john remembers how shocked adam had been, practically demanding an answer to the why of it. all he had been able to do was smile, like the young officer should've been expecting that outcome all along.

and maybe they both should have.

there's a part of him that wants to tell him; that john had just known they would cross paths again. that they would form an alliance that would make them both better for it. instead, though, he just pours himself another shot.]

What happened to Frank was... My fault. [back when he still believed child soldiers could be rehabilitated. that any soldier could fully give up the call of the battlefield.] I was the reason Zero got to him in the first place. I met him when he was 11, chopping up Portuguese officers. I just wanted him to have a better life.

[frank had always been a solemn kid, even more-so as an orphaned child just trying to survive a war. but john remembers when he had clung to him the day before he had sent him to america, as if he knew what would happen.]

Should've realized that the safest place for him was with me.

[shashka]

[ maybe, in the end, it had been destiny, if you believed in something like that. linked together by one woman, though neither of them had known it at the time. or, far more likely, it had been a coincidence.

at John's next words, Adam shakes his head, even as he pours himself a shot. he wasn't going to allow his oldest friend to place every burden on himself. that wasn't what this evening was for. ]

You did the best that you could with the information that was given to you. No one could've done better than you.

[ in Adam's opinion, John's greatest flaw had always been placing his trust in the wrong people. Eva. Zero. Miller. while perhaps none of them had meant to do it (with the exception of Zero), in the end, they had all betrayed him in one way or another.

(and as much as he hated to admit it, Adam held a good chunk of the responsibility for Zero and the Patriots. while he rarely dwells on his past regrets, since arriving here, he's found that he keeps thinking what would have happened if he hadn't given Zero the Legacy.

though in the long run, maybe it would've changed nothing.) ]

He's with you now, and that's what matters.

[ he raises his glass, signalling for his friend not to dwell on something he couldn't have hoped to prevent ]

[camouflage]

[there's a lot that could be said about john's willingness to open himself up to people who think they have his best interests at heart. maybe about yearning for a family he never had, maybe about being ultimately destroyed by the one person who mattered most to him, maybe about trying to cover up the wound with any sort of human compassion. thankfully, john has never thought that deeply about it and probably never will.

instead of psychoanalyzing himself, he knocks back another shot, the warmth in his stomach starting to creep outward. adam's right, of course; he did what he thought was right. like every time he's ever made a decision in his life that affected someone else.]

There was also a girl we picked up, in '87. [he starts again on their original topic, filling his glass up for another drink. reminiscing, he thumbs at the rim of it, missing home just the slightest.] We call her Wolf. She's got a thing for dogs. Gonna be the best female sniper in history. [he sounds......vaguely proud.]

[shashka]

[ there are quite a few things that Adam is grateful his friend has never taken the time to think deeply about. it would only hurt him in the long run, after all.

(and he tries not to think about how despite his best efforts, in the end, his oldest friend still wanted to die.)

as John does his shot, Adam follows suit, and quickly pours himself another drink, knocking that one back well. he still felt nothing, and pours himself yet another drink, finishing off three shots in a row, before taking a break.

this was going to be a long evening. ]

Sounds like a good kid. I'd like to meet her someday, maybe show her a thing or two about raising dogs. [ he's not going to mention the fact that his friend seemed to be a good father figure to every single child he met but his own children. ] But you shouldn't just stop there. Have her be the best sniper in history.

[ on the word "sniper", his accent might just sound vaguely Russian for a moment. but that's probably nothing.

but seriously, John. make sure she's better than the End. better than... ]

Did I ever tell you about "Quiet"?

[camouflage]

[don't let john fool you, ocelot. he is intimately aware that he seems to have absolutely no trouble in taking other children under his wing, but steadfastly rejects his own. especially now that he's living in a world where his children are about his age during the snake eater mission. why? he still doesn't really have an answer for it. maybe because they were always meant to just be his replacement, maybe because he thinks that there shouldn't be more than one of him in this world.

years later after the fact, john still thinks what he did by leaving them was for the best of everyone involved. just think of the disaster those two would've been if they had been raised by him.

he matches ocelot's drinking, glass by glass. this IS a competition, after all. still, though, he has to clear his throat a little after that much whiskey in one go. and his voice might be getting a little scratchier, like that tone you get after you just wake up.]

Тихий. I remember. [mostly, he remembers getting a scalpel in the shoulder.] You relayed some information to me about her in person, but it was all clinical. Her technique, who she was, that she had disappeared. Hell of a thing to lose track of, Adam.

[shashka]

[ a shrug. ]

She was always good at disappearing. But, wherever she went, she can't harm us now.

[ in all honesty, she probably long dead now, with the vocal cord parasites having taken effect. it was a shame, really. ]

She might've started out as XOF, but I always liked her. Some of the men never trusted her, but I'd say she was the best listener on the whole base. The Bo- [ no, that really wasn't right... ] Ahab worked really well with her too, and she could shoot a bullet in between rotating helicopter blades.

[ he pours himself another drink, though this time he waits on John's cue. ]

She wasn't awful on the eyes, either. But not really my type.

[ and not John's type for that matter. really, Ocelot is surprised he didn't pick up on that.

(but we all have lies we tell ourselves) ]

[camouflage]

You always did have weird taste in friends.

[haHAA. if there's one thing that's a complete mystery to him when it comes to those five or six years where diamond dogs was a functioning unit, it's quiet. sure, he knows the base facts, but ocelot liking her is new. ahab working well with her isn't; he had picked up some stories here and there, whispered at merc bars and on the field. what he wonders about is how important she was to him.

was she truly just a good soldier? was she ahab's 'best man', so to speak?

but it doesn't quite matter anymore, he guesses. she's gone, like dust on the wind.]

You have a type? [this time, john doesn't drink another shot immediately after pouring it. instead, he gives himself a metaphorical breather, and lights up one of the cigars he had brought through the ingress with him. that was one of the worst things about the 90s; all that non-smoking garbage.] I can't believe you even see people as easy to look at, Mr. Workaholic. [where do you find thr energy to be attracted to people, adam???] So, what is it?

[shashka]

[ at first, he just shrugs. Quiet had never been something he'd brought up with his friend, it had seemed mostly unimportant. another casualty for the cause, and not something for him to worry about.

it was really a shame about her and Venom, though. they were a terrific pair. and given time, maybe even more than that. but, nothing could ever be done about it now, could it.

no... now he was facing down a rather... daunting question. it wasn't complicated. no the problem was that it was really quite simple.

my type, John? well, it's the man sitting across from me at the table

on another occasion, he might've found a way to divert the conversation. but Russian blood, drug resistance training or no, he had just downed six shots in a row.]

I don't have time for relationships. [ the official line when well-meaning Soviet "friends" had always asked him why he wasn't married yet. and it certainly wasn't a lie. ] I'm not blind.

[ and sometimes, a man does get tired of pining after the same man for twenty years lonely. he had been planning on waiting for John's cue, but before answering his friend's question, he finds himself quickly emptying his shot glass, and then emptying another one. ]

As for my type? [ he pretends to consider it for a moment... ] I usually prefer him [ that part was probably obvious, even to a man like John ] to be older than me, but that doesn't always happen anymore [ ...they were getting old after all ]. Sturdily built, and athletic. A bit of a beard. Overall a little rugged. Preferably brown hair, though that also doesn't really matter all that much.

[ wait... that sounded almost too familiar. but the alcohol wasn't impacting him yet (or so he'd insist).]

And nice eyes. [ plural. ] Someone like John Wayne or Clint Eastwood.

[ there. he'll never know. ]

What about you? I bet you were a real Marilyn Monroe fan back in the day.

[ because one preference of his is blatantly obvious. ]

[camouflage]

[adam would be right; if there was one thing that he's picked up over the years about his friend, it's that his preference had always leaned towards men. that had never been a point awkwardness between them, either. after all, john had apparently been bisexual for most of his adult life without ever thinking about it. it had just seemed natural to be attracted to men when he was around them all the time.

in that same vein of thought, john does actually consider the fact that he definitely has some of the traits his friend lists off. but it's a coincidence. has to be.

anyway, john actually manages a dry chuckle at adam's suggestion--more like accusation--before he's back to his glass. and downs. three. more. shots. to make up for ocelot's sudden two. the cigar simmers between his fingers, smoking coiling above the table, as he clears his throat one more time.

it's getting a little warm in here.]

Well, you got me fingered for blonds. Marilyn was an easy woman to daydream about, but Eastwood probably took up an equal amount of time for me. [wayne was alright, but damn if john wasn't watching eastwood movies for more than the story.] I think my type is anyone who looks good with a gun in their hand and blood on their collar. [and, you know, blonds that try to kick his ass, physically or mentally. eva had always been a firecracker of wit and kaz was always challenging him anyway he could.] A nice butt doesn't hurt, I guess.

[on this, he takes a drag from his cigar. totally smooth.]

[shashka]

[ Adam would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't slightly taken aback by his friend's statement, and it's emphasized by a raised eyebrow. sure, he'd always assumed something must've happened between him and Miller (though he wouldn't ask for the details, just like he hadn't with EVA. he's not a total masochist, after all), but sometimes things just happened outside of one's usual preferences.

this... was something.

(he'll also ignore the fact that barring blond hair, which he had in his youth, John had described someone shockingly similar to Adam.)

he takes another shot to keep pace with John, but decides for the time being not to amp up their competition (not that he was feeling anything). when he finally opens his mouth, however, while he'd insist he was still completely sober, his accent was starting to tell another story. ]

Huh. I guess you and I have even more in common than I thought. [ though he'd argue Wayne remained attractive even into his old age. Particularly in True Grit, for one particular reason. ] But I hope you still paid some attention to the plots. The whole Dollars Trilogy is really something else, especially the last two.

[ Lee Van Cleef is a style. icon.

someone's back up on stage, trying to sing what must've been "Nobody Does it Better" at some point. Adam involuntarily shudders. even if it had been sung well, he'd never been one for James Bond though Sean Connery had been easy on the eyes. ]

[camouflage]

You mean besides always getting into trouble? [though maybe 'trouble' wasn't exactly the right word to use for adam. what he got up to was more of a 'getting-his-fingers-into-ever-pie'. what john got up to was what one would call 'general mayhem'. cuba had been meant to step away from all that, a chance maybe not at a peaceful life, but something relatively quiet.

as quiet as a militant force of 300 could possibly be.

zero, the boss' legacy, the twins; he had just wanted to put it behind him forever. some people went to cuba for a vacation. john had just wanted a new life. and yet, here he was, almost thirty years later, still eating his own tail.]

And give me some credit. I made sure to watch them at least once. [some of us don't see civilization for months at a time, adam. the two of them had spent more time apart than together over their many years of friendship, but watching westerns had always been his one connection to ocelot.] Just in case you wanted to quiz me.

[that's when the song choice of whatever drunk fool is singing hits him. john visibly cringes, suddenly unable not to take a drink. the whiskey provides a minor distraction, but it's enough.]

If I never have to be reminded of James Bond, it'll be too soon.

[shashka]

[ at that, he laughs. once or twice, you could say that Ocelot has gotten himself into trouble. but, like any good spy (or... any good cat) somehow, he's always gotten himself back out again. unfortunately, the same couldn't always be said for his best friend. the worst things always seemed to happen to him when he wasn't there.

(but if John had really wanted him at his side, he'd have insisted. even if Adam had his own missions to carry out.) ]

Of course. So, which one was your favourite? [ Ocelot's had always been For a Few Dollars More. as great as the others were, there was something he liked about a mismatched pair beginning as rivals, and then teaming up to take down a true monster.

and speaking of true monsters... as the singer hits another awful note, Ocelot shakes his head. ]

They should've quit while they were ahead. After the first one. [ what kind of villain gives his whole plan away and then lets the hero escape? ] You know, I think he used his influence to keep making Bond movies. Of all the things he's done to us, that one just might be the worst.

[ ...well. it really wasn't his worst action by a long shot, but as the idiot up on stage keeps singing, it sure as hell feels like it right now.

though, that might also be the eight shots. in Russian, Adam mutters a few swear words under his breath, while casting a truly fearsome glare at the singer. ]

You mind passing me your cigar? I need something else to take the edge off of our "entertainment".

[camouflage]

[he's about to tell adam exactly what he thinks about zero using his influence to create those god awful movies and he wishes it was the worst thing done to them. of course, that's when the russian asks for...his cigar. there's a clear moment of thought passing between them, as john takes his cigar from between his lips. thinking about it, there's honestly not a clear moment where he can remember ocelot smoking.

ever.

so it's a little strange to hear him asking for it. maybe it's the booze making him, not only slowly lose that carefully practiced american accent, but suddenly crave other vices. and john has never been one to really deny adam anything.

so he hands it over, with a smirk.]

You sure you can handle that?

[shashka]

[ Adam would once again say that he wasn't drunk at all. that all of this was still something he'd do under normal circumstances, and that his accent remained perfectly fine.

after all, he is an accomplished liar.

he returns his friend's smirk one his own as he takes the cigar. ]

John, when haven't I been able to keep up with you?

[ and yes. is it true that he doesn't smoke? yes. but is it true that he was also getting dangerously close to heckling the godawful singer singing that godawful song, and needed something else to take his mind off of it? yes.

(and besides, maybe he'd tried to smoke one once or twice during those nine years. just to remember him)

his first inhale and exhale seems to go well enough, as he shoots his friend another challenging look as if he wanted to prove something. ]

[camouflage]

[there's something about that look in ocelot's eye and the way he smokes that damn cigar that makes a little thrill go up john's spine. he intimately recognizes it as the same feeling he gets before a fight he's going to enjoy, that sharp stab of adrenaline. except, the two of them are not about to get into a friendly scuffle in the middle of a bar, so john settles for the verbal version: teasing.

is this really the hill you wanna die on, ocelot?]

I seem to remember a young Major who got trounced at every turn by an American dog. All that effort to keep finding me, only to get outpaced.

[hey, speaking of outpaced, he takes another drink. and okay, he's definitely starting to feel the descent into drunken territory. but it's the point that matters here, not how much he's screwing himself over.]

[shashka]

[ he studies his friend's face for a moment, trying to place the brief look that he gave him. at least, until he starts to talk, bringing that moment up all over again. at first, he remains calm and collected, smirk still clear on his face. ]

But I still managed to catch up to you, every time. Remember, an ocelot never lets his prey escape...

[ another clue to the fact the alcohol was perhaps beginning to affect him. he would've never so blatantly used one of his old and embarrassing lines, especially in front of John. as if to prove something (although he really doesn't have anything to prove anymore), he puts the cigar back to his lips and takes a deep inhale...

...and then proceeds to choke on the smoke.

and almost falls off his chair in a fit of coughing, with the only miracle being that he managed not to drop the cigar.

and suddenly, he really does feel like he's twenty again, as he shoots his friend a glare (though he had nothing to do with it), as he hands it back, grateful for a moment that the redness in his face could easily be mistaken as coming from his residual coughing fit. ]

As I was saying...

[ and then takes one shot to wash it down. and another. take. that. snake. ]

...I've come a long way since then.

[ except right this second, it was like he was right back on the ground, looking up at the man who'd one day come to define his life. ]

[camouflage]

[whatever zinger john had lined up to continue on this train of thought is immediately lost when his friend almost knocks himself out by choking on cigar smoke. whatever mood the conversation had been leaning towards, it's dispelled pretty easily by big boss visibly shaking with barely contained laughter. in fact, just as ocelot couldn't hold in the smoke, the old soldier can't stifle a deep, warm laugh.

it probably says something when laughter makes him feel warmer than any alcohol, reaching deep into his tired bones and making him feel lighter.

while quick-witted, sharp-tongued Ocelot was the man john had ultimately become friends with, it was those moments where awkward, over-eager Adam shined through that he stayed for. after a moment, he manages to calm himself, moisture threatening to spill over the corner of his good eye from how hard he'd laugh.]

Cute, Adam. You've definitely come a long way, but you've stil got a ways to go.

[john heaves a long pull from his cigar, expanding chest tightening his t-shirt a little obscenely, before he lets the smoke coil out of his mouth like the monster people claim he is. he smiles after and takes another drink.]

You don't smoke a cigar like a cigarette, by the way. Just like you don't work a Makarov like a revolver.

[zing.]

[shashka]

[ for his part, Adam's glare remains fixed on John, anger building as he remembers just how frustrating it had been. at least, until he sees his friend's face and his expression momentarily softens.

while he'd have preferred that it didn't come at his own personal humiliation... he would admit that it was good to see his oldest friend finally let go of some of that burden he'd been carrying, if only for a little while.

and then he has to be so insufferably smug. He sighs, before saying something in Russian. ]

American Dog.

[ but once again, he's reminded of just how much he really does like the man behind the legend. 'Big Boss' was more important than all of them, but so was John by himself.

still, one day, after all these years, he'd best his rival somehow.

(at least, the song up on stage finally finished, and hopefully they wouldn't be assaulted by any more awful singers) ]

I know that. It's just... been a while.

[ again, trying to save face, even though they both knew there was nothing to hide. ]

[camouflage]

[despite being on the express train to drunkville, john still understands russian perfectly. which means that when ocelot calls him his favorite nickname, the old soldier's face falls into a fond look. the karaoke is all but forgotten about in the wake of adam making the slightest fool of himself.

if ocelot wants to to be petty, big boss has no problem matching him. so, in better french than he normally speaks, he replies:]

Rouge sale.

[with his words slurring a little around the edges, he decides to forgo anymore upping the ante and just settles in to smoke. speaking of:]

You actually smoked before? That's news to me.

[although it would explain why he always inexplicably had a lighter on him. though maybe not why he liked to light john's cigars so much.]