latino_menace: (Thinking)

Ramon is so glad to get out of the museum because there's only so much culture a man can take, especially when you can't draw attention by exhibiting 'inappropriate' behaviour. Dinner's booked at an upmarket resturant a couple of miles away and he's quiet for most of the ride over. Just takes Random's hand in the back of the darkened limo and watches the city go by.
latino_menace: (Shadow)

There's a city out there, waiting to be enjoyed. It will be, later. He's not the type of man that's going to let this

(misery, despair)

setback stop him getting on with life. So there'll be dinner, and dancing, and lots of alcohol, dressed up to the nines and letting


everyone see that he's not beaten. Later, that's what there'll be.

But for now, he lies in bed and smokes and lets himself think about it. It's safe, because Random's out being a good samaritan and he's alone. The room and the slum outside is a good backdrop for his mood, he thinks, as his eyes follow cracks in the ceiling and his ears listen to the sounds of pointless lives passing the time outside the window.

In times past, he'd deal with - well, not this type of emotion, because he's never felt it before - but this type of knockback, by surrounding himself with people that fear and follow him, lackeys and hangers-on, booze and prostitutes. He'd throw a party that would last for days, forcing people to be around until they all passed out and woke up with bleary eyes and hangovers they wouldn't forget. Maybe that's what he should do now, when he gets back to the bar.

But he won't. Times have changed, even if he hasn't, really. He knows people think he has, even Random does. The opinions of the majority don't bother him overly, because they'll see the truth when it suits him. It wouldn't be right though, to say that Random's opinion doesn't bother him, because it does. Part and parcel of falling for him, he thinks.

He's going, Ramon knows that. Wants him to now, just so it's done. And he can't live another five hundred years with this over him. Random's right about that. So, better that it's over with. He hates it, but won't fight it anymore.

What's bothering him now then? Well...he has no idea how long he'll be left alone. Just him and the kid, and the knowledge that Random's in a relationship, fake or not, in some other universe. And a large part of him can't help but wonder what that's going to be like, being alone again.

He knows Random will be back. And when he comes home, he'll be welcomed and loved and the whole sordid mess will be behind them. But in the meantime?

Ramon's eyes wander over the cracks in the ceiling, watching them split and collide, weaving a broken web over the dirty white paint. No answers appear. But for the first time in his life, he's starting to wish that he wasn't the type of man he is.
latino_menace: (Reclining)

So, it hasn't been the best vacation so far. It had had potential, and then it had sucked. But Ramon is determined that the time away isn't going to be a complete waste - and he's rather good at sweeping emotion under the rug and ignoring it, when he wants to.

And so, the sight in their dingy little motel room is rather innocuous. The place is more used to seeing hookers and junkies - but tonight, it gets two men getting ready to go out and dressing in tuxedos.

If the good mood is a little forced, then Ramon hopes it'll be better once they're out. Is determined to try.

'Nearly ready?'
latino_menace: (Two Names)

He'd had no idea how much he'd missed Latin America until he was back. Two days in Argentina's capital city has done more to make him feel like himself than anything else ever could, short of going home.

Of course, he's seeing the place differently than he would normally. They're in a dirt-cheap motel in a part of the city that's practically a slum, a fact born out by the small and grimy accomodations, the noise of people screaming at each other two floors above and the way ths streets outside are filled with pushers, hookers and pimps.

Ramon loves it. He feels thirty years younger. He knows this sort of life, though he's far removed from it now. But it's nice to visit and be reminded of what he came from, he's finding.

It's early and Random's still sleeping in the rickety old bed; he can hear him breathing as he stands in the bathroom, dressed in worn out jeans and a white beater, with damp hair curling in the heat and shaving with the aid of a cracked and dirty mirror. His thoughts make him smile to himself sarcastically - he may feel younger but even a broken mirror tells him that he's not eighteen any more.

But it's OK. In the span of the life he's going to have, he's still young. And there's a city out there right now, close enough to home to be comforting, familiar enough to be enjoyed. And Random in their bed, which is enough to make any day good.


latino_menace: (Default)
Ramon Salazar

September 2010

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