"Deal!" said Rose brightly. She handed the freshly shuffled deck to Snake, who eyed it like a tainted cheese. Rose could do the 'bridge' shuffle thing, like a Vegas dealer. Snake usually dropped most of the deck. It was embarassing.

He dealt. They played. Rose won.

"She's stacking the damn deck," Snake complained bitterly.

"You can shuffle next time, then. I have to use the bathroom." Rose stood up and disappeared down the hall.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Otacon leaned back in his chair to check that the bathroom door was well and truly shut. "Not showing yet? Almost, what, seven months now?" He swigged at his beer.

"Ixnay on the avidgray," hissed Raiden. His palm crept nervously up to the patch of skin below his ear. "She won't admit it was a computer glitch. She's got names picked out and everything."

"That's rough. Like what?"

"Daphne. Daphne for a girl, Dave for a boy."

Snake very nearly spit out his mouthful of spinach dip. Hastily, he stole Otacon's beer to wash it down.

"She won't listen to me," Raiden complained. "You know how expensive it is with her going through ice cream, pickles, and feminine hygeine products?"

That did it. A pressurized mouthful of Mexican beer soaked the card table, the cards, and the front of Snake's uncharacteristically clean turtleneck. Otacon spared him another look that would cut tin cans in half.

"Jesus, kid," Snake snorted. "Not too bright, is she?"

"No," said Raiden, his eyes dreamy. "But that hair…those eyes…the way she moves…the things she talks about…"

"I…need a new beer." Otacon retreated back into the fridge.

"Get some paper towels," Snake called. "Dammit, the deck's ruined. What the hell are we going to do now, go bowling?"

"Yeah," said Raiden, his pale eyes alight. "God, I love bowling. I'm great at bowling."

Snake paused. It was too easy. It was below him. It was a cheap shot, and one that he'd made a number of times before. Still, the kid never seemed to catch on—a perfect example of what happens when a perfectly normal boy grows up on a diet of antidepressants and the blood of the unbeliever.

"It's all in the wrist," Snake said, finally, but his heart wasn't in it.

"I haven't been in years," mused Otacon.

"Been what?" asked Raiden, his face all innocence. Snake almost lost another mouthful of beer. Otacon reddened peevishly.

"Bowling. There was an all-night bowling alley and mini-golf course by the house where I grew up." His eyes misted. "There was a waterfall with colored lights under it on the seventh hole…"

"We'd better get going," said Snake, as the whoosh of flushing plumbing announced Rose's imminent return. "Like right now. She wouldn't like it. Tendonitis. She told me. Very painful."

Otacon shrugged. Raiden blinked. The heady smell of nostalgia filled the room, and no-one blamed it on the dog, because there wan't one. The moment was right. Without a sound—all right, with the sound of Otacon nearly tripping over the doorstop—the three made their way through the front door. There was a bowling alley on Third and Main, and it needed infiltrating.





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Next chapter: everybody goes bowling! Or something. Hope you enjoyed this one, more to come whether you like it or not!