[ He notices — of course he does, even though he makes a good enough show of pretending he hasn't seen a thing. His last tour of Discedo was heavy in premature nostalgia more than anything else, what with his sudden and intimate relationship with John that ended just as quickly as it had started and so one would think that there are no faces left for Ocelot to dread or look forward to. He made no friends and an appalling low number of enemies.
One would think so, wouldn't one.
Of course, this time he remembers it all. Not just the short few months he spent here last, but the ones that came before. Of using cigarettes as a trade-off to gain Reno's trust and, accidentally, companionship. Of watching him bleed out in the dirt, the numb, sticky, searing pain of a third-degree burn and Azula, oh he remembers Azula and where other people would dread seeing her Ocelot hopes that little bitch is around so he can put a bullet or three in her kneecaps.
He remembers and Reno doesn't know. Not yet. Maybe it should be kept that way but Ocelot was never that good with concealing the upper hand when he didn't need to. He pauses in his steps, head craned to one side as he surveys the crossing streets. ]
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One would think so, wouldn't one.
Of course, this time he remembers it all. Not just the short few months he spent here last, but the ones that came before. Of using cigarettes as a trade-off to gain Reno's trust and, accidentally, companionship. Of watching him bleed out in the dirt, the numb, sticky, searing pain of a third-degree burn and Azula, oh he remembers Azula and where other people would dread seeing her Ocelot hopes that little bitch is around so he can put a bullet or three in her kneecaps.
He remembers and Reno doesn't know. Not yet. Maybe it should be kept that way but Ocelot was never that good with concealing the upper hand when he didn't need to. He pauses in his steps, head craned to one side as he surveys the crossing streets. ]
It was... two, three blocks from here, wasn't it?