Weird. Otacon made a mental note of the Head Doctor's message, but was more focused at that moment on searching his side of the room. If all those years watching Snake had been good for one thing, it was giving him an eye for efficient on-site procurement. He pulled on the winter coat and changed to sneakers, instantly feeling a little more like himself once he had. He slid the radio into one pocket, remembering the note in M.E.'s primer, and his new journal in the other.

This was probably stupid and foolhardy and a variety of other damning adjectives, but Otacon had never been as careful of his own safety as he had been about the safety of others. Not that Snake couldn't take care of himself, but...

He hefted the reassuring weight of his flashlight in one hand and stepped out of M3 after bidding Hughes goodbye. Or maybe it's just scientific curiosity, Otacon thought to himself ruefully. In any case, there was nothing to do now but walk.

[To here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/629246.html?thread=53438974#t53438974)]