[ france. if there had ever been a more unsufferable country (or a worse language), Ocelot didn't want to know about it. even their seedier bars still had the unfortunate aura of pompousness about them.

(which, in his opinion, made it absolutely appropriate for the current task at hand)

this wasn't exactly his choice. zero had notified him (through a few different cutouts of course) that he was sending an associate of Snake's (John's) his way. and not just any associate, but one "Kazuhira Miller". the same man who'd been there right by John's side in the caribbean the whole step of the way. (and the one who had let this whole mess happen, Ocelot thinks. if he'd been there instead, things might've been different). in the brief time that he'd tried to keep tabs on msf, his sources had turned up a few select tidbits of information. like Ocelot, his parents had never married and were both dead. like Ocelot, he too had started out with a dream of defeating Snake, only to apparently have it crushed. unlike Ocelot, he was apparently an incorrigible womanizer.

funny that Zero... or his proxies, had chosen a seedy bar in Paris of all places for them to meet. it was almost as though he wanted to make the whole ordeal as painful as possible for him.

he's dressed relatively plainly in a tan suit, with a few added accessories. a western-style duster is draped over his shoulders, a red beret that helps hide his rapidly greying hair (he supposes that he has his father to thank for that), and his boots are still adorned with his unmistakable spurs. every other moment, he glances towards the door, not particularly trying to hide his intentions.

hopefully, the other man knew how to follow simple instructions. ]