"Hm." There were so many questions that they all tumbled around in his fractured mind like a whirlwind. Memories, old, new, false, all too real, swirled into the mix and Snake found himself suddenly missing the near constant strong breeze from the Seychelles sea. Davy Jones Locker, he thought to himself, completely derailed from reality or the elf next to him or what he was supposed to be focusing on. He wondered where the term came from, Davy Jones Locker. I won't scatter your ashes to the heartless sea...

"Uh." Snake blinked a few times, only coming back to reality as his foot falls slowed and he lagged behind his new companion a few steps. He caught back up and forced himself to recall what the question had been.

Questions - right. "Questions. Sure." Why were they here? How did they get home? Why were they called flawed? Why did the natives not like them? Why weren't there weapons here? Why hadn't the flawed militarized yet? Who was in charge? Did the flaws have a leader? Were the natives their enemy? What was a soldier supposed to do without an enemy? Without a war to fight?

"Questions. Why a leaf? Why not a..." He tried to think of things shaped like a leaf. "A tear?"