[ The way the kid's gone quiet, Snake can sense that he's considering it, or at least weighing his options. While it seems like a no-brainer to Snake, he doesn't know much about where this stranger is coming from, and so he stands there patiently, his hand going for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket if only for something to do.

He slips a smoke out of the pack and places it into his mouth about the same time that the barbell's dropped, all those hundreds of powers of weight sending reverberations through the ship's floor. Snake knows that it would take more than that to send anything off-balance on the Moira, but it's disconcerting all the same.

After taking a quick look around the room, Snake re-centers his gaze on the kid and shakes his head. ] Nothing like that, but I've been training at this since I was younger than you. It's not a hobby. [ Snake can't imagine why it would be a hobby for anyone, but he figures he should make the point anyway. He's a professional, simple as that.

Snake lights up and takes a drag on the smoke before he speaks again. ] If you want someone who fits that profile, though, I don't think you'd have to look too hard. [ Snake doesn't need to be his trainer, but he'd sleep a little better at night if he knew that the kid found one. ]