The question catches Nene by surprise and, for a moment, he's not even sure Mike's talking to him. It's not unusual for someone with Snake in their system to speak to people or things or beings that aren't even there. Angel had done it many times.
But then, Angel heard voices that weren't there even without the drugs coursing through him.
Glancing very briefly over at Mike, he set down a crate of firearms with a clatter and stood up again, brows furrowed in an expression that looks almost like annoyed curiosity. Nene doesn't have much patience for Mike when he's on Snake, doesn't have much patience for the man in general, but he's quiet at least.
"Anta ta'hacer no ehtaja arif," he mutters gruffly, wiping a hand over the thigh of his jeans as he moves to grab another crate.
He shrugs, unconcerned. Nando doesn't like him; he's picked that up without too much trouble. A lot of it is general, and some of it probably has to do with the time--the only time, now--they'd gotten high together. He knows it, and maybe at one point it would have bothered him, but now he doesn't care. He's not sure how he feels about Nando, if it comes to that. He supposes he could like him. If he liked anyone anymore.
He still wants him. But that's mostly instinct.
"Fine," he says, tugging at the belt on his arm. "Para ser al manera." He gets to his feet slowly, taking pleasure in the way his muscles flex and stretch, and moves over to help Nando with the crates. He could sit and float for a while, but at some point even that loses its appeal.
In truth, the mark over Nene's left eye is not something he thinks much about. It's been there for years, as much a part of his face as his nose or his mouth anymore; certainly not anything that requires an explanation. Not for Mike.
Silently, he hauls another crate across the floor, dropping it next to the first, not acknowledging Mike's help at all. There's simply no reason to.
This shipment won't take long, an easy run to Nanashi and back. There's little danger in it and a lot of money. He still can't say why it matters, the money. Because it doesn't. Nothing matters at all anymore but staying alive.
He apes Nando's movements, dragging his own crate, settling it next to Nando's and going back for another one. He knows what this deal is about. He'd been in the room when it had been made. He thinks it might be someone he's worked with before, though he can't be sure. Faces all mesh together after a while.
And he's keenly aware of where they're going next. He hasn't been to Nanashi in months. In a way it'll feel like going home.
"Used to do this myself, mostly," he says, straightening up. "Guns. Armas. Al negociar." He smiles thinly. He's not really talking to Nando. He's talking at Nando. Or he's talking at nothing and Nando just happens to be there. "Era hayaa mojtalef."
Comments 40
But then, Angel heard voices that weren't there even without the drugs coursing through him.
Glancing very briefly over at Mike, he set down a crate of firearms with a clatter and stood up again, brows furrowed in an expression that looks almost like annoyed curiosity. Nene doesn't have much patience for Mike when he's on Snake, doesn't have much patience for the man in general, but he's quiet at least.
"Anta ta'hacer no ehtaja arif," he mutters gruffly, wiping a hand over the thigh of his jeans as he moves to grab another crate.
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He still wants him. But that's mostly instinct.
"Fine," he says, tugging at the belt on his arm. "Para ser al manera." He gets to his feet slowly, taking pleasure in the way his muscles flex and stretch, and moves over to help Nando with the crates. He could sit and float for a while, but at some point even that loses its appeal.
Reply
Silently, he hauls another crate across the floor, dropping it next to the first, not acknowledging Mike's help at all. There's simply no reason to.
This shipment won't take long, an easy run to Nanashi and back. There's little danger in it and a lot of money. He still can't say why it matters, the money. Because it doesn't. Nothing matters at all anymore but staying alive.
And even that seems to be losing its appeal.
Reply
And he's keenly aware of where they're going next. He hasn't been to Nanashi in months. In a way it'll feel like going home.
"Used to do this myself, mostly," he says, straightening up. "Guns. Armas. Al negociar." He smiles thinly. He's not really talking to Nando. He's talking at Nando. Or he's talking at nothing and Nando just happens to be there. "Era hayaa mojtalef."
Reply
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