(Untitled)

[latino_menace]

Ramon's not had the best night, and he hadn't really planned on coming in. But here he is anyway, for lack of anything better to do.

Anyone observant may notice a slight looseness to his movements, as though he's drunk. This is because he is. But Bar still serves him up another bottle and he slumps on to a sofa to enjoy it. Well, drink it, if not

Comments

[not_one_drop]

"Don't you look just gorgeous, sweetheart."

Mal perches on a chair near him, grinning to herself as though everything's a private joke.

"Having fun?"

[latino_menace]

Ramon is wearing jeans and a rumpled white T-shirt, hasn't shaved and hasn't combed his hair. Regardless of this, he smirks at her and raises his glass.

'Of course I fucking do.'

The glass is emptied.

'Doesn't it look like I am?'

[not_one_drop]

"Of course."

She tsks lightly under her breath.

"Should take care of yourself. What will Random say when he gets back?"

[latino_menace]

His hand freezes on the way to the bottle and he glances up at her, eyes hard despite the alcohol.

'What do you know about it?'

His tone is quiet, but not soft. Rather the opposite of soft, in fact.

[female_were]

"Good evening, Ramon."

Raina's perched on the arm of the sofa, regarding him curiously.

[latino_menace]

He looks up, blinking at her, then away again.

'Hi.'

[female_were]

She leans her chin on the sofa. She hasn't talked to him in ages.

"How are you doing?"

[latino_menace]

'Fine,' he says, automatically, as he pours himself another drink and throws it straight back.

He's normally tidy of appearance; good clothes, clean shaven, generally well groomed. Today? He is not. Jeans, T-shirt, not shaved and messy hair - Raina can decide for herself if he's lying or not.

'You?'

[almost_arabian]

The man nursing the bottle is somewhat of a concern.

It also occurs to him that he may be able to pry a drink from it. So he slides over, smelling faintly of desert, and smiles.

"I don't suppose some company would go amiss?"

[latino_menace]

Ramon snaps his eyes up at the stranger, regarding him with instant suspicion, as is natural for him.

But then - robes. English accent. Polite phrasing of the question.

Ramon relaxes and shrugs. 'Couldn't give a fuck, amigo.'

He's quite drunk.

[almost_arabian]

"Well, that's quite better than a no."

He takes a seat in a chair nearest to the couch and orders a glass of lemonade from the waitrat closest to him.

"You may call me Lawrence. Is that bottle not a tad much, or are you trying to forget something?" It's more of a polite observation than an accusation.

[latino_menace]

His muscles tense and he stares at him for a long moment, before realising that this guy doesn't, can't, have a clue. Still, he doesn't relax.

'May I? Shit, aren't I privileged?'

It's as sarcastic as it could be, but he still follows it after a moment with,

'Ramon Salazar.'

A somewhat grudging introduction.