It's been hours since Random's quiet message. Hours. And he'd said nothing more than he was going to the studio for a while and not to wait up. That was almost a full day ago and there's been nothing since. Ramon's regretting the promise he made to stay away from there. Just a little, but still. He knows he got that place for Random alone but that's not the point. He's worried.
There's nothing he can do but wait. So now he's sitting on the sofa in near-darkness, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. Random has to come home sometime.