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[A Liquid Ocelot appears on the rooftops. He is staring out across the railings, eyes scoping down to the Nexus below. His entire surroundings have changed from his last whereabouts, and confusion stiffles onto his face.]

[Naturally, he remains calm, but his eyes sharpen beneath his sunglasses propped against the bridge of his nose. He stares down at his walkie-talkie, firmly in his grasp, listening to the static motion on the other side. It was clear he was out of range.]

This is not the Middle East.

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[The beret can't deny that feeling his major's hand once more, so caring as it always was, knowing just how to bring out the best, most fashionable side of it, was its own kind of bliss, despite the awkward feeling that something was off. Then again it had helped Ocelot play many parts in the past, perhaps this was just a new act that it had missed, some role it (like the spurs, it noticed) was not a part of. Its flop drooped a little at this knowledge.

And then it was picked up, held much like before, though the face hair tickling its fabric was a new, but not unpleasant, sensation. The slight wind on the roof reminded the stitches of duels of the past, short hair and dust between its threads]

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[Ocelot caresses the hat gingerly with his aged hand, soothing his thumb over the fabric. He wonders how the hat managed to get here, up on the roof. Perhaps it followed him. Perhaps it was simply fate.]

[The man held up the beret, and brushed his lips in a light kiss to it. He smiled wistfully.] John didn't like you very much.

:D

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[Old and wrinkled, it did not matter. The whorls of those fingertips were a pattern it could never forget, the motion of a thumb so utterly familiar that all its suspicions evaporated. It was home.

It didn't quite know how it had gotten to the roof either, the days and nights blurring together without the aid of real sunlight in the halls. It had been compelled to be here though, by a force deep inside its stitches.]

[The coarse face hairs caressed its red, and a moment later it felt a slight pressure to its fabric, and all its threads nearly fell apart in complete joy. Never before had it been so happy, and it strained its hardest to push back against the soft kiss ♥]

[And then the mention of the bandanna man. No, he certainly did not like it very much, though the beret always suspected that was more out of jealousy than anything else. Not everyone could be as close to its major as it was. It wiggled slightly in agreement]

OTP

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[It only proved his loyalty, that after all this time, he remembered his beret. In fact, despite not wearing it anymore for various reasons, he still had his precious beret stowed away in his keep-safe box. Every now and then, he would return to it and give it a stroke, reminiscing his youth. It was always so smooth and soft, and this beret was his. He knew it.]

[Ocelot ran his finger around the edge of the hat leisurely, stroking with a hint of a purr in the back of his throat. He allowed his finger to inspect the inner section of the silken hat. It was still so smooth and untouched.]

Mmm...

OH BBY

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[The nostalgic treatment assured the beret entirely that this was indeed its owner. It could sense that its earlier assumption had been correct, that this role Ocelot was in was one that it could not help with for now, save for reminding him of better days.]

[The threads shuddered with the lingering, languid touch, stitches along the band tightening with the familiar vibration of that low noise settling throughout its always stylish color. The lining grew warm when a slender finger carefully checked it for any harmful wear; of course it was still pristine, it didn't willingly put out for let itself be worn by any one else (except that one time with Fear, but that was out of necessity).]

[The flop grew heavy with happiness, pressing down into Ocelot's hand with pleased, lazy inquiry as to what he desired of it]