latino_menace | OOM: Fight

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OOM: Fight

It's been coming since the day they met and Ramon knows it. Right now, he can't think what took him so long. Because Sands needs to be taught a lesson, he's needed it for ages and it can't be put off any longer. There's only so long he can play nice.

Ramon exits the bar in a hurry, dragging Sands after him. It's dark enough and anyway, he's beyond caring if anyone sees. The thought that he shouldn't be doing this is drowned under waves of long-supressed anger, ignored to be dealt with later.

He lets him go eventually, when they're near the lake bank, a hard shove pushing him away. Then he spreads his arms wide and his face twists into a snarl.

'Come on then. You've been pushing for this, come and get it if you've got the guts.'

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Ramon stares at Sands but he hears Gorlim, and can't fail to notice that he has a gun trained at him now. It takes a while though, to calm himself to the degree that he can think about stepping back - but he does eventually, retracting the knife and sticking it back in his pocket. It remains close at hand though, ready to be grabbed again if Sands tries anything.

'Don't shout at me Gorlim. And point that fucking thing somewhere else, preferably at him.'

He thinks it's a low blow to bring Random into this but can't deny that he's now thinking about the shit he'd get if it had been a security member that had caught them and not a friend of his.

Gorlim stands slowly, and the knife and the gun switch hands, so now the gun is towards Sands. Mostly because he knows Ramon better. and maybe trusts him enough not to make any sudden moves at this point. "You stay put," he warns Sands again. "What the hell happened?"

“Or else what? You’ll shoot me?”

Sands’ grin is a bloody one, fingering his bruised face with a distracted air.

He does, however, remain still. Perhaps simply because it hurts to move.

'He will fucking shoot you, you jerk,' Ramon mutters, then glances at Gorlim, calming further now that there's no weapon pointing at him.

'Asshole here thought it would be a good idea to rile me into pounding on him. He got what he asked for.'

It's the simple explanation to what happened, and fairly accurate, he believes.

"Uh-huh." Gorlim believes him. He really does. The thing is? That same version of events could conceivably be Ramon's interpretation of infinite realities.

The one thing he's really right about is that yes, Gorlim will shoot him if he does anything stupid.

Gorlim is smart enough not to take his eyes off Ramon completely, and he manages to shift his attention without letting his guard down, now to Sands. "Right. Who are you, and what's going on?"

“I’m Sands.”

He laughs softly, wincing.

“I got what I asked for.”

Ramon glares at him, hating him even now. In the end, almost killing him isn't enough. Beating on him isn't enough. There isn't enough blood for him to be satisfied, although the bruising will be impressive.

'There you go Gorlim. Now what? You going to call security on us?'

He's pretty sure he won't. He knows Gorlim.

Gorlim gives Ramon a look. "Of course not. You think I need that kind of bullshit?" He does put the knife away. "I am going to make you two split it up, though. Is this your gun?" he asks Sands.

“Yup.”

He’s on his knees now, watching them both with an expression of mild amusement.

Ramon says nothing. He knows full well that Sands won't leave it at that - and that's OK, because with the mood he's in right now, he'll give him a repeat performance anytime.

'Don't give it back to him Gorlim. Bastard will probably shoot you in the back.'

Like he's one to talk. His hand goes into his pocket and fingers the knife again, glad to have it near. He has his own gun too, of course. but bringing it out at this point would be stupid.

"Of course I'm not giving it back. I'm giving it to Bar. Later. She can decide whether or not to return it. Right now..." Gorlim gestures to Sands with the hand holding the gun. "Up. Get inside. And if you've got any sense, you'll disappear from there. Right?"

Sands laughs again at that, climbing unsteadily to his feet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he remarks calmly, “without my sunglasses.”

He staggers, rights himself, and proceeds to scan the ground for the missing glasses.

Ramon spots them, near to where he'd landed the first punch. Two quick strides and he picks them up. He turns them over in his hands, looking at Sands...then simply snaps them in two. The pieces are tossed casually to one side and he just grins, though there's nothing nice about it.

Gorlim rolls his eyes. "Thank you, Ramon, for that mature and obviously necessary display. Sands, get the hell inside before I lose my patience, too. The glasses are easier to replace than a hand. Got it?"

For a second, it seems like Sands is about to start forwards. Without his sunglasses, the momentary flicker of rage is obvious. Then a slow and bright grin spreads across his face

“I’ll be seeing you, sweetcheeks,” he promises.

With as much dignity a man covered in his own blood can muster, he turns and walks back to the bar.

Ramon watches the rage with satisfaction, it being exactly the emotion he'd hoped to see. His eyes don't leave his back as he walks away, then he turns to Gorlim.

'I'm not going to thank you for stepping in. I would've liked to have his eyes out again.'

"I know."

Gorlim shoves the gun into his pocket.

"I wasn't expecting thanks. I would, however, like a somewhat more detailed explanation." If only to pass the time before he'll trust Sands to have decided it's a good idea to make himself scarce and let Ramon go back inside, too, without risking a war.

He shrugs.

'The guy was blind. He lost hs eyes on hie world because he pissed off a cartel boss. So the first time I talk to him, he pulls a gun on me. Random likes him though, so I didn't kill him. I ever got his eyes back for him. But is he grateful? Hell no. He takes every opportunity to wind me up and he asked for what happened tonight, so he deserved it.'

"I believe he deserved it," Gorlim says, glancing towards the bar, "but why does he do... whatever he's doing to piss you off?" This is clearly a relationship he's missed out on.

Ramon thinks about it, then answers honestly.

'I have no fucking clue. But I wish he'd stop it. I can't kill him until he pays me back for the favour, and dealing with him like this is geting really old.'

"I can see how it just might," Gorlim says, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "Has Random got anything to say about him?"

'Random likes him. If he didn't, I wouldn't have helped him out.'

He'd paid for Nita to fix the man's eyes.

'And - predictably - he told me to stay out of trouble with him. But he tells him not to be an asshole to me too, though the guy doesn't listen.'

Gorlim kicks at the grass.

"I've got plenty of people I don't like, but this just doesn't make SENSE," he growls. "It's just stupid that the only obvious solution is to have Random knock both of your heads together like children."

Ramon shoots him an exasperated look.

'Hey look, I don't like it either. But if he keeps getting in my face, what am I supposed to do? I just told you earlier on that I can't stand people pushing without doing something.'

Really, his restraint has been pretty remarkable up until now.

"I'm not blaming you. I'd smack the guy around, too. It's just bloody stupid that in a place as big as this, two people can't just leave each other alone."

He's not happy about it. Clearly.

OOM: Fight

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