He maaay have temporarily forgotten about that tiny detail. It didn't matter who killed Big Boss; war was war. War was also written by the victors, which was why it also didn't matter to him what kind of terrible tyrant they'd painted him as... Miller would always remember him as his closest friend.
He wasn't going to let himself stumble helplessly down the same path he watched Big Boss himself go down what felt like only weeks ago...
"What kind of suits do they have you wearing these days?"
"Hm." He paused, taking a moment to light up a new cigarette. He took a deep inhale, and tapped the new ash onto the ground next to him. On his loud exhale, he answered.
Miller took that as a reminder to dump the contents of his pipe for now. He was not a chain-smoker like fucking everyone else in PW, even the 12 year olds SOME people.
"Well, I meant just the suit itself... But if the opportunity for a mission ever presents itself, I wouldn't mind seeing hoe you perform. You know, to make sure I've taught you well."
"Hn. I'm not sure, anymore. At the time I was trying to get away from someone. I've come in contact with him since. Everyone outside of my circle still thinks I'm dead. I just haven't done anything to make them think otherwise since. Coming back to life would mean leaving the school. And I, uh."
Snake stopped for a moment, hoping that the end of the sentence would just come to him. It didn't.
There were so many questions Miller wanted to ask. Who were you running from? was a big one. But he didn't feel he'd earned that level of trust from this Snake yet, so instead he turned so that he could lean with his back to the railing instead. Even if he wouldn't press further, the discussion seemed pretty intimate as it was, so he subconsciously figured his body language should reflect it. In the process he ended up getting a few inches closer to Snake.
"Ah. I was wondering why you'd ended up here of all places. But you...?"
Snake noted Miller's shift, but kept his eyes on the horizon rather than acknowledge it. He let the silence hang in the air, enjoying a particularly cool breeze before answering.
"Yeah, I... I sure know that feeling." His own laugh echoed Snake's. "It's enough for some people to give up the fight and settle down. But then there are those who can try all they want, but in the end they're alive only in war..."
"That's why I said not yet. I can't survive without it. A while before you came, there was a war here. I had come the closest I ever came to forgetting. I was all wrapped up in someone else. It was... not so bad. But it didn't last long. The thrill, the lack of remorse.
This was the product of Big Boss, alright. Behind his sunglasses, Miller gazed at Snake with sad understanding.
"You can never really go back after taking a life, even on the battlefield. But you can't let yourself be consumed by it, either. I've seen men become cold, unfeeling war machines."
He added as a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood, "I guess invitingly you to join the MSF at any point would be awkward and a time paradox.
He maaay have temporarily forgotten about that tiny detail. It didn't matter who killed Big Boss; war was war. War was also written by the victors, which was why it also didn't matter to him what kind of terrible tyrant they'd painted him as... Miller would always remember him as his closest friend.
He wasn't going to let himself stumble helplessly down the same path he watched Big Boss himself go down what felt like only weeks ago...
"What kind of suits do they have you wearing these days?"
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"Tight ones."
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Miller took that as a reminder to dump the contents of his pipe for now. He was not a chain-smoker like fucking everyone else in PW, even the 12 year olds SOME people.
"You should show me some day."
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"Show you? You looking for a mission?"
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"Well, I meant just the suit itself... But if the opportunity for a mission ever presents itself, I wouldn't mind seeing hoe you perform. You know, to make sure I've taught you well."
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"I hope you'd be impressed. As for the suit, I feel like wearing it on this school campus would just be asking for trouble."
Snake stretched and yawned, "I'm not technically 'on the record' anymore, don't know where I could get another one."
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Not on the record? Miller just raised an eyebrow and stared at Snake.
"What did you do."
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"Hn. I'm not sure, anymore. At the time I was trying to get away from someone. I've come in contact with him since. Everyone outside of my circle still thinks I'm dead. I just haven't done anything to make them think otherwise since. Coming back to life would mean leaving the school. And I, uh."
Snake stopped for a moment, hoping that the end of the sentence would just come to him. It didn't.
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"Ah. I was wondering why you'd ended up here of all places. But you...?"
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"I can't leave. Not yet."
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"...You're waiting for someone, aren't you?" I am.
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"No. It's all here."
He let out a short bitter laugh.
"This is what you get when you spend too much time around the same group of people."
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"Yeah, I... I sure know that feeling." His own laugh echoed Snake's. "It's enough for some people to give up the fight and settle down. But then there are those who can try all they want, but in the end they're alive only in war..."
So which was Snake?
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"That's why I said not yet. I can't survive without it. A while before you came, there was a war here. I had come the closest I ever came to forgetting. I was all wrapped up in someone else. It was... not so bad. But it didn't last long. The thrill, the lack of remorse.
"All of it came back."
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This was the product of Big Boss, alright. Behind his sunglasses, Miller gazed at Snake with sad understanding.
"You can never really go back after taking a life, even on the battlefield. But you can't let yourself be consumed by it, either. I've seen men become cold, unfeeling war machines."
He added as a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood, "I guess invitingly you to join the MSF at any point would be awkward and a time paradox.
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He appreciated the attempt, all the same. Miller got a shrug, and a smirk. "Do I have to wear sunglasses at night, too?"
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