Anyone who doubts that Snake wears lipstick, look really closely at a screenshot next time.
Told you.
((glomps reviewers))
Balancing Act
Ace's first ever words to Snake had been, "Y'know, most people try lifting their feet. Yikes, can't you walk right?"
Accompanied by a quizzical look shot at him over the rims of the older boy's shades, it was one of the friendliest overtures he had ever been given.
Snake's first words to Ace, predictably, had been, "No. What's-ss-sss it to you?"
Then Ace had burst out laughing, saying that he even talked like a "weird lizard or sumthin'". Hopping down from the wall he'd been lolling upon, he'd walked up, stuck out a hand and introduced himself then and there. Further sniggering ensued when Snake, who had jerked back in thorough anticipation of a punch, stared at the outstretched palm in astonishment.
What confused Snake about that meeting now was this; the first thing he'd noticed about Ace hadn't been the green skin. It had been his eyebrows.
The boy is a headcase, but the boy has some im-press-ive eyebrows.
He hit the ledge hard, bruising the palms of both hands, and spun round. Panted breath came in short hisses between his teeth, making him sound even more uncannily similar the reptile Ace had named him after. Kicking off with one foot, he launched himself across the rink once more.
Two more laps, then I'll quit.
He didn't know how he did it. Arturo had remarked before on his serpentine friend's impeccable balance, but was unable to come up with a reason for it. Certainly, while walking, he was nothing to look at. His posture was atrocious, shoulders slumping so far back that his feet tended to arrive at most places long before the top half of him did.
Unable to skid to a halt in time, he smacked into the opposite ledge so hard he almost toppled over. Regaining balance in a slithering movement, he righted himself and shot off again, headed full speed for the other side.
Okay, make that four more laps.
The Townsville Ice Rink was a disheartening place at the best of times. The one at the mall was larger and better-lit, but it was usually too crowded for his tastes on a Saturday. Like most of the Gang, when he wasn't surrounded by the others, he preferred to be alone.
He hit, with decidedly more finesse this time, turned and began a fifth lap.
If I ever do get into drugs-s-s, he thought, adding the hiss to his thoughts out of habit, it'll probably take a bullet to the head to get me to quit.
He grinned nastily at this, black-smeared lips parting to reveal teeth that always struck onlookers as a bit too big for his mouth. His compulsive tendencies had earned him a generous amount of ribbing from Arturo, although Ace let them pass with no more than his typical supply of jibes.
A bullet…or possibly just Ace with a lead pipe.
On impulse, he tried to do a spin, got his legs tangled and fell upon the ice in a heap, with an undignified 'smack'. After a healthy amount of cussing, he stared thoughtfully up at the strobe lights.
Ace…with his eyebrows.
Footsteps approaching, and he was one his feet quicker than a cobra. Slatted, dully red eyes scanning the entrance, he spotted the one who had invaded the chilly sanctuary. Not the boy, with or without his eyebrows, but Arturo. The shortest Gangrene nodded as he saw Snake spot him. He was pulling himself up onto one of the stands as Snake smacked inelegantly against the perimeter yet again. Balance, Snake could do; stopping took a little more practise.
"Hey Snake."
"Hi, Arturo. Where's-ss the others-ss-s?"
"Mini-mall. Bowling. Billy's visiting his aunt. And Ace tried to get into the casino without ID again. He got thrown halfway across the street."
Snake snickered.
Ouchies-ss.
"If we hurry, we can fish some quarters out of the fountain while the security guards change shift."
Finishing unlacing his skates, Snake tugged them off and replaced his boots. That done, he returned them to the locker he'd found them in, snapping open the ten-for-two padlock with practised ease. He'd thought often of just snatching a pair for himself, but that would probably lead to an increase in security. And that would inevitably lead to the Girls, which would, in turn, end in a headache, a split-lip and all-over bruising. This was safer.
Pausing only to adjust the angle of his hat, he took a replacement lock from his pocket and clicked it into place. Perfect. Hissing softly, he followed after Arturo, shoulders instantly dropping into a carefree slouch.
Twenty seconds after the door had been slammed behind them, the lights fizzled and went out.
"Would you put that stupid thing down? Yer gonna get sick."
Snake spared him but a glance and a grin, before returning to the small rodent busy scurrying up his shoulder. It ran across his neck, fur tickling his collarbone.
"It's-ss a mous-ss-se. Mice are clean-sss."
He wasn't entirely sure if that was true, but he remembered reading somewhere that some or other small rat-like creature was more clean than other small rat-like creatures. Mice or hamsters, one of them. He didn't really care if the small brown mammal was carrying rabies or malaria or the freakin' plague. He liked mice. Despite a penchant for cruelty towards animals -cats especially, to a degree that even grossed Arturo out- he didn't touch mice, except to play with them.
Ace watched, mouth pulling into a grimace that showed off a carefully filled tooth.
"You're not gonna do anything weird with that thing, are ya?" he asked after a moment.
"Like what, Accce?" the sixteen-year old enquired, retrieving the mouse from under his shirt.
"Like…eat it or anything?"
Snake threw two things at him; a glare and the mouse. The latter bounced into the taller boy's lap, squeaked piteously and shot out from under his legs. Ace yelped and leapt up with comical speed, yelling, "Oh my…get it OFF! Snake, you moron!"
Already beset by hysterical hiss-like giggling, Snake shot to his feet and ran for his life, an infuriated Ace in tow.
When the customary black eye had been administered and a dutiful apology had been given, they made their way to the arcade, which served as a default meeting place when nothing else had been planned for the day. Going via the park, they paused only to point out to a couple of kids that handing over their weekly allowances really would be the charitable thing to do (a dangerously stupid move, but the temperature was too high for Snake to care. Ace commended the dispirited youngsters with a hearty 'Thanks, kids!" and a salute.) Financial matters covered, they acquired two sodas and drank them slowly as they walked, ignoring the occasionally strange and occasionally fearful looks of the few others who were foolish enough to be out in this heat.
Snake said suddenly, "Hey, Accce?"
"Yeah?"
"You know how to ssskate?"
Arching one impressive eyebrow in confusion, Ace said, "What?"
"Iccce-ssskating. You know how?"
"Why the heck would I know-…Why the heck would I want to know how to skate on some stupid ice?"
"Ah, no reason." Snake returned his attention to his soda.
The other three were already at the arcade, Grubber and Arturo taking turns at a mini-basketball set and Big Billy playing with a yo-yo that some turkey had been dumb enough to give him. Upon noticing their arrival, the red-head broke into huge grin.
"D'ah…hi, guys."
"Hey Ace. Hey Snake", greeted Arturo, still concentrating on his throw.
"Phhhbt!"
Ace smirked, nodded his greetings and patted Billy's shoulder. Big Billy's smile became even wider, as it tended to whenever Ace paid him special attention.
"So, what youse wanna do now?"
Snake, the only one who noticed the older boy's hand lingering over the darker green fabric of Billy's threadbare T- shirt just a second too long, felt an odd twisty sensation in his gut. Pulling himself together, he joined the rest of his pack in calling out suggestions, making a mental note to leave mice alone when in Ace's presence from now on.