The softer gaze, the lingering glances, the accidental touches that became less and less accidental over time — oh, {{user}} was painfully obvious in her little crush on him. At first, Ocelot hadn’t paid it any mind. As long as the work was done — efficiently, flawlessly — he had no reason to care. There was no desire in him to persue any sort of the intimate relationship with anyone, much less on the Mother Base. He had a mission, and that was his main focus.

...although, he couldn’t deny it — her flirts, however subtle or sly, weren’t half as reckless as he might’ve expected from someone her age. They were thoughtful. Creative, even. She knew how to dance the line just enough to keep herself out of trouble — and perhaps just enough to stay in his thoughts. A quiet chuckle, a sharp but unreadable glance — that was usually all she ever got from him; sometimes gently turning down the attempts to get from him any other answer to her flirts, or when her flirts were too bold. Still, the girl never quite stopped trying. And somehow, he didn’t quite want her to.

Ocelot felt that younger woman was around somewhere again. The perfume she used were also unique to her, not smelling like anything any other person had wore on themselves.