For a few seconds, Kaz only stares at Snake's hand. When's the last time that they clasped hands? As far as he can remember, it had been when Big Boss had reached out to pull him into the helicopter, right before the crash that ruined their lives. His throat goes tight and his shoulders feel heavy, but eventually he squeezes Snake's hand and pulls himself up. There's a few seconds where he's unsteady, but then he stands straight.
Snake's definitely singing a different tune if he thinks that bartering with the gods is a good idea. If Kaz does that, then he'll owe Hope something, and that's never a position that he wants to be in. At the same time, Snake has a point -- he can't really sustain this, not in a place as dangerous as Hadriel. "I'll think about it," he says, uncertain.
He reaches out to grab his aviators off the bedside table and puts them on, figuring that Snake's gotten enough of a look by now.
"Colors are faded," he admits, "and I can't see that far." He can manage close interactions and paperwork just fine, and that's usually all that he needs. In the middle of a fight, though, it could be a death sentence.
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Snake's definitely singing a different tune if he thinks that bartering with the gods is a good idea. If Kaz does that, then he'll owe Hope something, and that's never a position that he wants to be in. At the same time, Snake has a point -- he can't really sustain this, not in a place as dangerous as Hadriel. "I'll think about it," he says, uncertain.
He reaches out to grab his aviators off the bedside table and puts them on, figuring that Snake's gotten enough of a look by now.
"Colors are faded," he admits, "and I can't see that far." He can manage close interactions and paperwork just fine, and that's usually all that he needs. In the middle of a fight, though, it could be a death sentence.