Nate stuffed the last bite of a cheeseburger into his mouth, chewed thoroughly, and swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he stood, crumpled the wrapper, and turned to throw it in the garbage can at the end of the kitchen counter.
And that's when he remembered that he couldn't. Namely because the trash was filled to the point of threatening to spill out onto the floor. "Hey, Sully," he said casually while looking over his shoulder at him, "be a pal and take out the trash?"
"Hmmm," Sully hummed as he dipped a duo of french fries into his plastic souffle cup of malt vinegar, than brought them to his mouth and deposited both at once. He stared at Nate while he chewed thoughtfully- which, for the record, Nate found incredibly unnerving- then finally swallowed and replied, "How about I continue to be the book keeper and you take out the trash?"
Immediately on the defensive, Nate turned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Hey now, that's fighting dirty. After all, I cleaned up from breakfast this morning!"
"Everything except taking the trash out, yes."
"The trash wasn't full!" Nate nearly whined.
Sully smiled and raised an eyebrow. He knew that neither of them took this argument seriously, but that they were both definitely going to act like they did. "The amount of work it took to get that egg carton to stay in the can would suggest otherwise," he parried.
Nate rolled his eyes and leaned back against the cheap laminate countertop that graced their circa 1975-era cabinet set. "It wasn't that much work."
"You had both feet in the can trying to tamp it down."
"True, but that was, uh...conservation," Nate improvised. "You know. Can't have too many plastic garbage bags ending up in landfills, it's bad for the environment."
Sully chuckled and jabbed a fry at him, apparently momentarily forgetting it wasn't one of his cigars. "This from the guy who rarely leaves a place without causing at least one explosion."
"...and his bookkeeper/partner who enables him. But I get it," Nate said, holding up both palms in a motion of surrender. "This is clearly a personal challenge, so... challenge accepted."
Sully's brows knit together. "What?"
"Yeah," Nate grinned. "I'll play you for it."
"'Play me for it'?" The older man shook his head. "Nate, what do you mean, 'play me for it'?"
Thirty minutes later, Nate was standing on the coffee table with the balled-up foil wrapper from the burger held up by his head while his other arm was stretched out in front of him, poised to throw the little missile into the empty fry container he had tacked up on the door frame across the room. A triumphant grin spread across his face as he launched into a boastful monologue. "And so, with the same ease and grace that he would lob a grenade into a crowd of angry mercenaries, Nathan Drake lines up to make the winning shot for his little wager with his slightly less lucky and very much older partner, Victor Sullivan." Bending his knees slightly, he tossed the little foil ball in a graceful arc, landing it cleanly in the container. Turning to Victor with a smug smile, Nate stepped down off the coffee table. "Your turn."
Sully looked at Nate, then at the fry container goal, shrugged, and stepped up onto the table where Nate had been.
"And for the 'E' in 'horse' and Nate's victory," Nate began as if he was an announcer at a sports event, "it's Victor-"
Sully suddenly lunged off the table and across the room, landing the foil ball in the container with a dramatic slam dunk that ripped the little paper bin clean off the wall. He rolled upon landing, ending up in a heap against the doorway.
"Goddamn... Sullivan." Nate finished with noticeably less gusto. "That's cheating. You can't do that!"
Sully stood and brushed himself off. "Your right," he said apologetically. "I should take out the trash." He bent over to pick up his piece of foil, but stopped suddenly, putting a hand on his lower back. "Oh! Oh no!" he cried, taking a step forward with a feigned limp. "Your slightly less lucky and very much older partner seems to have hurt his back!" He made his way to the couch and laid down. "Would you be a pal and take it out for me, Nate?"
Nate stood shaking his head and frowning, before finally going to the kitchen and lifting the bag out of the can. "Cheater."
