[So much for a good mood.]
[An injured Liquid sat on a couch in the first floor lobby, doubled over with one hand supporting his head andthe other holding a lit cigarette. He had been so proud of himself for finally defeating Father...but now Snake's
words echoed in his head like an endless loop. He was wrong. He had to be. Liquid had done the right thing, done just one thing worthwhile in thirty-seven years.]
.../God damn it./ [He swore under his breath in Arabic, picking up the bottle of vodka on the nearby table and taking a drink. Liquid had said far more than he wanted to, rage allowing disturbingly sincere words out of his mouth.]
[Snake knew nothing of the true significance Liquid's victory had. He never could. That sentimental fool...Father's favored son. Someone like that would never comprehend what Liquid had gone through for their father's approval.]
[...but one way or the other, the entire exchange left him feeling sick.]