latino_menace | OOM: Sands for dinner (not literally)

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OOM: Sands for dinner (not literally)

Ramon opens the door from the bar. The first thing Sands will probably notice is the warmth, because they're in Portugal at a hot time. It's late afternoon though so it's not stifling, and the living room beyond the door is large and airy, with french windows that open up onto a garden. Beyond that, beach and sea - the smell of the ocean is pretty strong, even here.

'I hope you don't mind crap for dinner Sands, because neither of us can cook. Unless you can?'

So not above making him do it now he's here. Although given that he and Random are practically carrying him after the drugs he took, there's a chance the man might not be able to hit his mouth with a fork anyway. And he knows he's not feeding him, that's for damn sure.

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"Oh dear."

Random, for his part, sounds wildly amused, and takes most of Sands weight to steer him towards a couch, which he is set on.

"What the hell did you give him?"

Ensconced firmly on the sofa, Sands lets the conversation wash over his head, instead focussing on his fingers. Staring at them intently, eyes half shut, he slowly curls and uncurls them. This, apparently, is a pleasing result, as he hums softly and quirks a smile.

Ramon eyes him sceptically, although the look on his face also manages to be amused at the same time.

'Just codeine. He'll be fine. Dinner, baby? We can leave him there. If you twist pizza, he can have it cold later. If you give it to him now he'll probably wear it as a hat or something.'

Random laughs, and does twist pizza, but sets it on the coffee table and flops into the armchair opposite Sands.

"I'm hoping he'll fall asleep. And if he does, someone should be here when he wakes. Maybe we head into the kitchen for a bit, he'll go out?"

Blinking out of his daze, Sands shoots Random a look at that.

“’M fine,” he argues. “Just- fuck. Him,” pointing vaguely in Ramon’s direction. Shaking his head weakly, his eyes focus on Ramon. “Thought he’d be taller,” he continues with a grin, and his head lolls back against the sofa again.

Ramon laughs and lights a cigarette.

'Not with an audience, thanks all the same. And some people don't need height to be imposing.'

Random should agree with that at least.

"Thought you'd say that about me, actually."

He grins, cheerfully.

"What was it I said when I met you, Ramon? Brawnier?"

Random is gazed upon thoughtfully.

“Short,” Sands agrees after a pause. His eyes begin to droop, and then snap open again. A hand is passed across his brow and for a second it seems like he’s about to say something else. But then the bony bit of his wrist catches his attention, and he focuses on that instead, mouth still hanging slightly open.

Ramon is finding Sands something like hypnotic. He can't help wondering what the guy's going to do next.

'Yeah Random, you said you'd thought I'd be brawnier. That's just because my reputation had preceded me though.'

He smirks. It's a big reputation.

'What you people don't seem to realise is that I might not have magic, but I don't need it.'

Said in the tones of an adult educating children. Just to get Random to roll his eyes and hopefully get a rise out of Sands.

Random does roll his eyes, and take a bite of pizza.

Though Sands is probably too stoned to answer.

"I'm going to go get him a glass of water."

Sands eyes Ramon suspiciously.

“Did you jus' insult me?”

These things are hard to tell when you’re having trouble sitting up.

Ramon eyes him right back.

'Did I? What do you think?'

Because when someone's this stoned, it's impossible not to poke them. And anyway, Random's out of the room so he can't stop him.

'What would you do about it if I did?'

Giving up all attempts to stave off gravity, Sands sort of flops and sort of falls down the sofa. He blinks and, looking momentarily lucid, grins lazily up at Ramon.

“Bang,” he murmurs, miming pulling a trigger. Eyelids droop.

'Asshole,' Ramon mutters. 'Couldn't fucking hit me even if you weren't stoned.'

He raises his voice. 'Random! Come and save me from this fucking imbecile would you? Get more sense out of Martin than him.'

He thinks he may have given him slightly too high a dosage.

"This is entirely your fault" Random tells him, before emerging with the water and offering it to Sands.

He won't let go till he thinks he can hold the glass steadily.

"Just so as you know."

Sands misses first time, reaching for the glass.

“You,” he exclaims, pointing at Ramon. He flails a little. Ramon would surely appreciate the look of absolute bewilderment on his face.

Ramon? Is trying his best not to giggle like a child, so he reaches for pizza to cover it.

'Me, what? And yes Random, I know. But you have to admit it's amusing. Where's the camera?'

"Ramon!"

The glass gets put firmly in Sands hands, then lowered to his lap, just letting him hold it.

"Don't try to drink yet. Just breathe. You should be coming back to normal soon, Sands."

“Fuckin’ better,” Sands mutters.

He rubs at his forhead irritably, glass wobbling precariously in one hand, and heaves a sigh. Eyes stare unblinking up at the ceiling.

'What?'

See the innocent face? How can you accuse it of anything?!

Sands gets laughed at again. 'You mean to tell me you've never tried this shit before? Bullshit.'

"Part of it is probably a bit of shock."

He hopes.

Glances at Ramon for confirmation.

"Or something quite strong."

“Strong,” Sands repeats. He nods, and then shakes his head violently, glass wobbling.

“’Course I’ve had it before. Wasn’t much fun then either,” a grin, more alert than the last. “Though the circum… stances were quite different then.”

Whatever lucidity he just held is lost again with a burst of quiet laughter.

He raises his eyebrows interestedly. 'Oh? C'mon spill.'

And then Random gets a beseeching look. 'Is there alcohol? I think I need it.'

"No there is not going to be any spilling."

Though Random does go for the alcohol.

"Ramon, can you go make some soup? There's chicken noodle in the pantry. He needs to drink the water and level out from whatever the hell it is."

“My eyes,” he explains, eyeing Ramon. “When they.”

The glass is raised cautiously to his lips, clasped tightly in both hands and still shaking a little.

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