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Current Mood: drunk
Current Location: 7th Floor

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[Otacon did frequent the bars of the Nexus just to drink casually. He had taken a liking to some of the odd beers the Nexus was supplied with. This particular bar, however, wanted its visitors to drink a little more heavy. Emmerich looked up and noticed - ]

Shots Drank : 0/3

[ - above his head. The doctor looked at all the gin, vodka, rum, sake, and all other types of hard liquers that were available. He figured this effect room was the same as the other ones he had been in. He had to fill his counter to leave because the room would be inescapable otherwise. The man grabbed a spiced rum bottle and began to pour himself his first shot in a glass.]

Here goes nothing.

((OOC: There's only one little twist - People with nanomachines, cyborgs, machines, and others can get drunk in this room even if normally they couldn't. Drink 3 or more to leave.))

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Sounds about right.

[And he hates the idea of being played with like that. Of being trapped anywhere against his will.]

So that's true, huh? People here can come back from the dead.

[He'd heard as much before, but a particularly pissy (and dead) Liquid does not a reputable source make.]

Can't help it, in fact. Three days appears to be the standard length.

[his teeth grit] I'd kill that other self of mine, but he's clever enough to take it out on Hal when he gets back.

[Something about that is just wrong. Even before coming here, he'd seen people who were supposed to be dead come back: Big Boss, Fox, even Liquid. It never ended well.]

He wouldn't get the chance.

But don't bother. There's no point.

There isn't, is there.

[Liquid gets up and goes to the kitchenette, where he pulls a bottle and glasses out of a cupboard]

I'm feeling the need for a drink. Whiskey?

[He shook his head. For a three-day respite? Not really. That's just revenge. Killing for the sake of killing.]

...

[It's a little unnerving how Liquid seemed to have read his mind. Three shots really hadn't been enough.]

Hm. Yeah. Alright. Sounds good.

[When it comes to need a drink, they're on the same wavelength.]

[Liquid pours a generous amount for Snake and himself and returns bearing the glasses.]

[It's strange to be alone with Snake again. A Snake. It makes something in him ache.]

Now. What are we going to do about him?

[Strange to be alone like this with Liquid, too. Let alone agree with him about anything.]

[He sits up from where he had been leaning to accept the drink. Doesn't even ask if he's poisoned it. (Though he does prop one foot up on Liquid's coffee table to be a pain.)]

"We," huh?

Maybe we ought to ask him.

[Liquid can feel Snake's tension. It's easy to read a reflection of your own body.]

[He gives Snake's foot on his table a look, then makes it very clear that he's choosing to ignore it.]

We. [He sips from his glass.] That is, if you choose to help.

What he wants to do. I suppose we could. [he frowns.] My alternate could have him so twisted that he would try to go back, or blame himself.

[He's too stubborn and he hasn't been here long enough for all of this not to make him uneasy.]

Don't be stupid. [Like hell he's just going to run off.]

Better to find out how he feels, then, huh?

[He wouldn't be one of the twin Snakes without the stubbornness.]

Good. It's probably best he have someone other than me to rely on. [Oh, the volumes of self-loathing behind that.]

We'll have to ask him when he wakes up. [with gallows cheer] If he despises me, it's a good sign.

[...And he isn't going to argue with that.]

[When he wakes up. He takes a drink to keep himself from looking back toward the door.]

Guess so. But I wouldn't hold your breath.

...He seemed pretty happy to see you.

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