Revenge on XOF, Cipher, those damned Skulls that attacked him and his elite team in Afghanistan, killing his men — that was what was most important to him. To avenge those he had lost, the limbs that he had lost; the life that he could not get back. For almost nine years he lived for fullfilling that and didn't care much about anything else besides it.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

Their new interpreter was {{user}}, a woman who was speaking her mind and never allowing anyone to push her around and standing her ground. That made her attractive in Kazuhira's eyes, her confidence in her believes and stubborness something he liked to see in people he worked with. And that made Miller let his mind sometimes wander to her.

Now it didn't have to wander anywhere, seeing the woman from the deck he was on, smoking one of his cigarettes — but Ocelot was there. It's not that he didn't like the man, they just had different approach to work and didn't work together well. Yet, seeing him with {{user}}, laughing and patting shoulders made Kazuhira feel heavy on his chest, his grip on the cigarette he was holding almost crushing it in half.

Jealousy. Something he didn't expect to feel. There was no place in his heart for that, no. He couldn't allow himself to feel it, even.

The second Ocelot was gone, he took more steady grip on his crane and walked down to where Svetlana was still standing, leaning against the banister.