Snake didn't know what to think about this woman. There was a part of him that liked her. Part of him saw her as a sentimental soulmate of war. Talking to another soldier was worlds apart from talking to someone who didn't know the pain of loss from battle. People who had been suffocated under the oppression of their own government, of their own commanders, saw life through a different shade of glasses. Snake felt that she might understand him better than anyone he had met in years.
And as much as he hated to admit it, there was something ... comforting ... in that.
He took the card when she offered it. And he would take the rest of the Chinese food, too. (Though he would wait until she left before he indulged in the pleasure of eating it.)
He looked at the card and nodded his head, then turned so that he could get a good look at her with his only eye.