Snake had actually thought he was a pro. But somehow watching Rick suffer those brief instances where he lacked air seemed to be a bit nostalgic. How long ago had it been that he'd had his first cig? The reaction wasn't that different. He'd thought he was a macho man, just like he did in the present, and it had turned out that cigarettes had thoroughly kicked his ass.

He couldn't resist that crooked smile of his as he moved to light himself up. And in that 'seasoned pro' fashion, he took a long drag, casual, as if nothing could possibly pull him from his moment's peace.

And then.

"Good, eh?" was the question that accompanied Snake giving Rick a friendly pat on the back.