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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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.

Ramon blinks at Random.

'Make...soup?' He frowns, first at one man, then the other. 'Is it in a tin or do you expect me to make it from scratch?'

Because...what?

Sands is stared at. He's making no sense but perhaps that's understandable.

Random, who has heard a little more of the story, gestures at the kitchen.

"No. Take the tin of chicke noodle soup out of the pantry, and follow the directions on the can. Please. If you have any questions, I'll come in."

Instructions, he can follow. So he nods and gets up, giving Random a quick kiss before disappearing into the kitchen. Because frankly, Sands is freaking him out.

Sands pushes himself up into sitting position again, rubbing his eyes, and watches Ramon go with an expression of mild amazement.

“Never taking drugs again…,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. However, this is nearly a full and coherent sentence; progress!

"Smart man."

Random reaches in his pocket for cigarettes, then thinks the better of it. He doesn't want Sands nor the sofa on fire, particularly.

"Do your eyes hurt? Might be light sensitive. Tell me if you want me to pull the blinds down."

Ramon sticks his head out of the kitchen.

'Where's the can opener Random?'

He glances over at Sands and rolls his eyes. 'You'll live. Stop moaning.'

“Not… hurt. Just,” he pulls a face, waving a hand vaguely, and then raises his voice so it carries through into the kitchen. “Would be easier to ‘splain if Ramon hadn’t drugged me to the gills.”

"Don't forget to blink?" Random offers helpfully.

"As for taking pills from Ramon, what did you expect?"

Sands snorts with laughter at that.

“Didn’t ‘sactly have much choice in the matter, did I?”

"No, not precisely."

He shrugs.

"Six of one, half dozen of the other. It was worth it and now you're sobering up. Drink your water, and the soup'll be done soon."

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