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Hal tells him on multiple occasions that relaxing would do him some good.
“That’s the whole point of semi-retirement,” he says, sliding a book into Snake’s hands and pushing him towards the sofa.
To his credit, Snake gives it a genuine go, but sitting on the couch in the middle of the day reading a book feels like an almost sacrilegious use of time. He only gets five pages in before feeling the urge to pace through the fuselage like a caged dog. Maybe he’s not cut out for a slower lifestyle, or perhaps he’s just not built for peace.
He spends the rest of the week prowling around the Nomad seeking out tasks to keep busy.
Today, he’s found a decent job: Mount a set of shelves to the wall so their gear can finally stop sitting in cardboard boxes.
It’s simple, easy, and something that Hal has put off ever since they moved into the Nomad a month ago. Home maintenance on a Sunday. If he doesn’t think too hard about where they are and what they’re storing, he can almost pretend he’s an ordinary person.
After a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and strong coffee, he’s feeling decently content. The drill whirrs softly as he lines up screws with keyhole slots. The work is monotonous and repetitive, just the way he likes it. Once he finds his rhythm, he lets his hands take over so his mind can drift.
He glances over at Sunny, who’s quiet as always, focused on her new coloring book with her brows furrowed in the way that mirrors Otacon’s while working at night. There’s certainly a resemblance there.
Snake knows the kind of man Hal’s father was. Hal told him the worst of the stories after a few drinks too many and let Snake fill himself in on the rest by obtaining old MSF files for him to read. Huey Emmerich had been distant, cold, and treated Hal like an inconvenience more than anything before Hal finally relented and emancipated himself at sixteen.
Even now, Snake can’t imagine how anyone could grow up under that kind of cruelty and still choose to be kind.
Somehow, Hal did that and so much more. He managed to become a person who cared deeply about both the people around him and the world at large.
The thought makes Snake's chest feel warm, until the feeling is shattered by a heavy metal clang.
The drill has slipped off the shelf in his attempts to level it, and it hits the steel diamond plate floor with a disproportionately loud crash. Had he been in Alaska with the dogs, they would’ve been sent scrambling across the living room and barking their heads off.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sunny startle, hands flying to her ears and coiling in on herself. He whips his head around fully and sees that her eyes are wide and locked onto the floor in front of her.
Crap.
Moving slowly, he descends his step stool and gingerly picks up the drill
“Sunny?” He tries as he approaches her. She doesn’t move as he gets closer, so he grunts as he kneels to her level. It’s a pain on his back and his knees, but he manages. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sits down fully and crosses his legs, mirroring her. “I dropped my drill, that’s all. I’ll be more careful next time. It won’t happen again.”
Her eyes flick from the floor to the tool in Snake’s outstretched hand. After a few hesitant moments, her hands drop from her ears and reach for the drill that Snake is holding out. Snake turns it off and lets her grab it, figures if she sees it for what it is she won’t be so scared.
“Loud noises scare me too,” Snake says truthfully.
“R-really?” She flicks the reversing switches like it’s a toy. In, out, in, out, in.
“Really,” he says. Her eyes are wide as they study his face, like she’s trying to decide if he’s telling the truth or not. “It’s okay to be scared sometimes. Uncle Hal was scared the first time we met, you know.”
Sunny’s mouth twitches, like she’s about to ask a question, but she stays quiet and waits for him to continue. Like Snake, she’s quite a good listener.
“He’s braver than he looks,” he adds, smiling slightly.
He doesn’t say why. Doesn’t mention the Hudson or how Hal had pulled him out with nothing but pure panic and ocean-numb fingers wrapped around the straps of his suit. Doesn’t say how Hal had worried over him as Snake suffered through dry-drowning, doing all he could to prevent his pneumonia from turning fatal.
Now is not the time to tell her that story. Maybe when she’s older and can fully understand the things they’ve been through, the two of them will sit her down and reminisce about the past.
For now, she’s just a kid, and there’s still time before she needs to hear those kinds of stories.
Sunny’s brows wrinkle, like she’s trying to match the description of bravery with the man who falls asleep with his glasses on and buys her picture books and watches cartoons. Eventually she relents, looking down at her coloring book and nodding, deciding that yes, Uncle Hal is a brave man, especially if he’s able to live with a person as scary-looking and grumbly as Uncle Snake. She doesn’t say any of this out loud, of course.
“Hm, I needed a break from setting up shelves anyway,” Snake says, stretching his arms above his head with a sigh. “Mind if I help you color?”
Sunny smiles at his offer and tilts the 96-pack of crayons towards him like she’s giving him permission. He pulls one out at random and ends up with a crayon named cadet blue, and settles in beside her.
All in all, it’s a damn good way to spend a Sunday afternoon.