OOM: Mary Anne again
From here...Ramon feels just a little light-headed as he opens the door to the house in Portugal. Probably just his body getting used to having blood again after losing a few pints. Or maybe it's just shock...but it doesn't matter, because the only thing he wants now is a drink, regardless of whether he should or not ( Read more... )
"Of course. Don't suppose you could point me towards a sink, though?"
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'Yeah, this way.'
The place is understated in the way that the immensely wealthy can afford, but it's still very human. Some of Martin's things lying on worktops, a drawing of his attached to the fridge by Random. But still, tidy. He hasn't been letting the place go to the dogs just yet.
He points at the sink and pulls a towel from a drawer.
'Knock yourself out.'
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"This place is beautiful," she says, attempting to clean under her nails. "The beach right there..."
It's weird trying to make chitchat with his blood on her hands, but she's trying.
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He drops the towel next to her and opens a cupboard, pulling down a fresh bottle of tequila.
'Yeah. Been in my family a long time. I bought it because Random,' he hesitates, just now remembering that he'd told her that Random isn't here. But maybe she'll just think that he's out for the evening or something.
'...liked it.'
Two large glasses are filled. Screw dirtying up the things and screw polite amounts of the stuff too.
'You want a mixer?'
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She drys her hands off, then lifts a glass. "Do I ever?"
A healthy amount of the tequila disappears. She keeps her eyes closed, rolling her shoulders against the burn. "Oh, that's good."
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Well, after draining half his glass, which he takes care of as soo as his hands are dry.
'Yeah, that's better.'
A glance at her and he sets his glass down.
'I've got to check on the kid. Take a seat in the lounge, I won't be long.'
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A moment's juggling and she heads into the lounge with her glass, his and the bottle of tequila.
She takes a seat on the couch and refrains from propping her feet up on the coffee table.
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He slips into the darkened nursey and flips on a lamp, walking over to the cot. He's got blood on his face but it doesn't occur to him that the boy might be scared of it - hell, there's blood soaked all over his clothes too. It doesn't matter. He'd thought that he'd never get to see Random's eyes again and if he can't get the real thing, this is the next best option.
He's gentle when he shakes the boy's shoulder to wake him.
'Martin?'
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He informs his pai, eventually managing to open his eyes and gaze out over Ramon's shoulders. It takes several minutes before he focuses. Even as a kid he doesn't wake up early,
"Si, pai? You have blood."
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There's an unconscious wiping of his hand on his jeans which actually just makes his hand dirty again. He's too focused on the green eyes to care. Random's eyes.
'You OK?'
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"Si, pai. Bug help wash up?"
If he skins his knee someone helps him wash up, at any rate. So he sits up in bed so that he can go get a washcloth if wanted.
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'No, it's OK. I just wanted to see if you were alright.'
He knows time doesn't pass while he's in the bar, which is why he feels he can leave him to go there. But still. If he's just learned anything, it's that the unexpected can blindside you at any moment. If he had died and Mary Anne had had to come find him, then he would have woken up here alone. Random would have been beside himself when he got back and Ramon shudders to think that anger could have been the last emotion he felt towards him.
'I'm taking tomorrow off work. You want to do something?'
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"Fishing? Slam it down an' hold it by the head?"
Fishing is a good thing to do with Pai. It means that they're there, and quiet, and productive, and generally Pai seems happy if he's killing something. So.
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'Yeah. We can go fishing if you like. Could even get one of the big boats out and catch some of the huge fuckers.'
But just them and a pier would be alright too. It won't be as good as having the real thing with him, he knows that. He also knows that nights like tonight won't last. But still. Better than nothing and Random will be pleased to hear about it when he get back.
'You should go back to sleep then. You'll need to be awake for it.'
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He lays back down, obediently,
"Don't care which fishes. I like fishing."
And as sleep claims him again (like going under for the third time, he's out almost as soon as his eyes are closed),
"Love pai."
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He says it distractedly, still watching him, looking for the last glimpse of green as the small lids close.
Almost fucked it all up Random, Jesus.
He sighs as he turns away, mutters a quiet, 'Sleep well, filho,' as he turns the light off and leaves the room. He'll work it all out later, there are other priorities now that's done.
A shower is the next order of business and then, drinking a lot - ten minutes later he's back in the living room, clean and in fresh clothes, picking up his glass in order to fill the last slot on the list with as much gusto as he can manage.
'Sorry about that. He wanted to know about the blood.'
Sort of true. He hardly wants to explain that he felt the need to be close to a toddler just then.
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