Being polite and concerned nearly always wins out over trying to be inconspicuous. Someone looking distressed and talking to themselves, well, that's a reason enough to ask about their wellbeing, right? Ramon certainly thinks so.
He slides his hood off as he carefully sneaks his way over to the mumbling fellow. "...'Scuse me. S-Sir? You, um, you okay?"
Walter looks up at Ramon with wide, startled eyes. "Okay?" he asks, as if he'd never heard the word before. He draws in a breath and asks, in a hushed and worried tone, "What's your name?"
(( Gah, only two days later. >_>; Sorry 'bout that! I've had a rather obnoxious workweek here and couldn't get back to it till now. ))
Whoa, yeah, this guy's not okay, obviously, but he doesn't feel it's right to just mumble 'nevermind' and slink away again. Even though that's kinda what he wants to do now.
"R-Ramon? I'm, uh, Ramon..." Weird thing to ask right out the gate when you look like you're about to have a heart attack, but it's not like this kid's going to question it.
"Ramon...." His eyes glance back and forth as he murmurs what sounds like math to himself (except it's not math, not really, just what he knows he's supposed to do). Eventually he seems to deem that acceptable and a very slight smile is pointed at Ramon. "Sorry, I- don't think things are all right. An-ti-no-ra." Whenever he said it, people seemed to back off. Or at least ask less questions. All except for the sheriff.
"...Wh-What? I mean-...Y-Yeah, things are gonna be kinda-...Um, but-..." This comforting thing is so not his strong suit. Just talking to other people isn't either. But he can't help but still be a little worried about this guy. Even if he's also pretty scary.
That last thing he said; what was it? It sounded...almost familiar. "I-I couldn't hear what you, umm, s-said. Sorry. Uh, what was that? Sir, d-do you need anything?" There, that's helpful, right? Ramon can be a helper!
Well, damn, that didn't work. Ah, well. And this kid is being so nice, too. "No, I- um." He stares at the floor for a moment, trying to gather something from his pile of scrambled thoughts. "Um...I...could I have a glass of water?" He looks up with hopeful eyes.
"Y-Yeah, sure. I could prolly get one." He stands up, feeling a kind of relief that he can do something of actual value for this messed-up guy, as well as now have an excuse to get away from him a little bit. Not that he can really complain about that, as he brought this on himself in approaching Walter in the first place.
Ramon wanders his way over to where the food supplies and the like are kept, and eventually returns with a bottled water. (He tucked a second one for himself in the pocket of his jacket.) He hopes it being in a bottle doesn't make a difference to the guy, since he asked for a glass. Ramon has OCD; he knows how details like that can gnaw at your head.
"Um. Here ya go." And he holds out the water for the distressed man, shifting a little from one foot to the other as he waits for him to take it.
He takes the bottle with a shaking hand. Unscrewing it, the cap slips from his hands and rolls on the floor. He ignores it. "Thank you," he says, his voice finally sounding more lucid. He doesn't mind that it's in a bottle. Bornpang made sure he ate and drank at the station, and Walter is being good about that.
"I'm- I'm Walter," he says quietly, after he's gulped down half the bottle. "Walter Sparrow."
Ramon watches the cap escape, not looking up from it until it rolls behind someone's foot. Then back to the man he just gave the bottle to.
When the man says his name, Ramon can't help a tiny, inward lurch of the stomach upon hearing it. Sparrow? Ramon...does not like sparrows! They are like the anti-spider to him. (Spiders being good things to the silly little medium. Anyways.) But he tells himself to shrug it off; it means nothing. He's just being stupid.
"Nice to, um, meet you. Er, Walter." Mr. Sparrow? No idea how to address him, but he'd sooner say Walter anyways. "I'm R-Ramon." Wait, he already said that. "Ramon Salazar." Not that he had to add that. "Glad I could, you know, uh, he-help you out?"
"Salazar..." Walter repeats, and it seems as if he's looking somewhere far away. "In on the flight....New York to LA. Key survay...but I didn't. Too busy elsewhere..."
He shakes his head rather violently then looks up at Ramon with a shaky smile. "Nice to meet you too, Ramon. I sure hope we don't have to stay here very long...this storm is really weird, don't you think?"
Cue the mental noise of a needle flying off the record. Whoa, sir, back this pony up.
"...P-Pardon me? Wait, did you just-...? What about the flight? Were you on it? How do you, uh, kn-know?" Not that Ramon spent a lot of time looking at other passengers, or would remember any he did see. But still. Knowing that he was grounded here because of the flight to NY having a rapid case of death is one thing. Did he hear him wrong, or did he make it aware that he knew that was where Ramon had flew into LA from originally
( ... )
"Cuz you-...? Uh." And then, yes, right back into small talk again, which makes Ramon's head reel a little. This is really bizarre, and he hopes he's not just being paranoid in his feeling that things are not right here with this conversation either.
"F-Figure it's just a regular storm, I guess. I mean, d-doesn't this part of America get ones like this pretty often? Not that I'd....um, know, but...you know..." He trails off.
"Well, yes, but hail in August? That's not normal, not at all. It's not cold enough! Or- it shouldn't be cold enough, not yet." He chuckles a bit and looks at the floor. "Of course, I don't really know, either. I'm not from here."
He's completely ignoring the semi-formed question about the serious stuff. Must move away from that, even if he doesn't know why.
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He slides his hood off as he carefully sneaks his way over to the mumbling fellow. "...'Scuse me. S-Sir? You, um, you okay?"
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(( Gah, only two days later. >_>; Sorry 'bout that! I've had a rather obnoxious workweek here and couldn't get back to it till now. ))
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"R-Ramon? I'm, uh, Ramon..." Weird thing to ask right out the gate when you look like you're about to have a heart attack, but it's not like this kid's going to question it.
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That last thing he said; what was it? It sounded...almost familiar. "I-I couldn't hear what you, umm, s-said. Sorry. Uh, what was that? Sir, d-do you need anything?" There, that's helpful, right? Ramon can be a helper!
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Ramon wanders his way over to where the food supplies and the like are kept, and eventually returns with a bottled water. (He tucked a second one for himself in the pocket of his jacket.) He hopes it being in a bottle doesn't make a difference to the guy, since he asked for a glass. Ramon has OCD; he knows how details like that can gnaw at your head.
"Um. Here ya go." And he holds out the water for the distressed man, shifting a little from one foot to the other as he waits for him to take it.
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"I'm- I'm Walter," he says quietly, after he's gulped down half the bottle. "Walter Sparrow."
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When the man says his name, Ramon can't help a tiny, inward lurch of the stomach upon hearing it. Sparrow? Ramon...does not like sparrows! They are like the anti-spider to him. (Spiders being good things to the silly little medium. Anyways.) But he tells himself to shrug it off; it means nothing. He's just being stupid.
"Nice to, um, meet you. Er, Walter." Mr. Sparrow? No idea how to address him, but he'd sooner say Walter anyways. "I'm R-Ramon." Wait, he already said that. "Ramon Salazar." Not that he had to add that. "Glad I could, you know, uh, he-help you out?"
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He shakes his head rather violently then looks up at Ramon with a shaky smile. "Nice to meet you too, Ramon. I sure hope we don't have to stay here very long...this storm is really weird, don't you think?"
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"...P-Pardon me? Wait, did you just-...? What about the flight? Were you on it? How do you, uh, kn-know?" Not that Ramon spent a lot of time looking at other passengers, or would remember any he did see. But still. Knowing that he was grounded here because of the flight to NY having a rapid case of death is one thing. Did he hear him wrong, or did he make it aware that he knew that was where Ramon had flew into LA from originally ( ... )
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And then he's back to the small talk, his expression near-smiling. "I think there's something not quite right about it. I hope it just hails."
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"F-Figure it's just a regular storm, I guess. I mean, d-doesn't this part of America get ones like this pretty often? Not that I'd....um, know, but...you know..." He trails off.
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He's completely ignoring the semi-formed question about the serious stuff. Must move away from that, even if he doesn't know why.
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