[ since the beginning of this whole mess, Ocelot had found it incredibly difficult to enjoy anything. much like Miller, he too was full of rage at what happened. at having to once again play the part of Zero's lapdog. of the whole damn thing. for all that he liked to think he was one step ahead of everyone, he hadn't seen this whole thing coming either. he hadn't been there for John when he'd needed him most and now he was sitting in a bar with the guy who could've done something, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

but even so, he was getting a cold sort of satisfaction from that look Miller was giving him. let him try to punch him out. if anything, he'd welcome the chance to show this guy a thing or two. to remind him that's his his fucking fault that John's in the state he's in (does he even know John's his name?).

unlike Miller, however, he lets none of that show, masking any disdain with carefully practiced arrogance. his smile widens, as if daring Miller to come right out and hit him.

(if John were here, he wouldn't be impressed. but whose damn fault was it that he wasn't here in the first place?) ]

You and I both know that our mutual contact [ because, as much as he's enjoying pissing off this guy, he does want it to be clear that Zero sure as hell isn't his friend either ] wouldn't like that. And I don't know about you, but I'm not going to try and fight a war on two fronts while he's asleep.

[ besides, who knew how many Cipher agents were listening to them right now? ]