Ramon Salazar

Ramon has no idea where Random is this evening, but figures he must have gone to the bar. He's been ages though and he couldn't wait up any longer. Martin was fed - rather grumpily from both parties involved, it has to be said - and put to bed and eventually Ramon followed his example.

Sleep is a good thing, he thinks. He's not really counting on getting woken up.

The morning had taken quite some sleeping off. But at least it was good sleep, comfortable and close. Ramon had woken up after a few hours, ravenous and dying for a coffee, so he'd come downstairs to try and put something together.

Needless to say, attempts are going badly. But he's got a door into the bar now, so if he burns this batch of toast as well, he'll be wandering through to let her provide. At the moment he's just watching the toaster and wondering where he's going wrong, while hoping Random doesn't wake up in the meantime.

A few hours after this...

It's the middle of the night, not that Ramon's aware of it. He still sits in the chair, his neck at an awkward angle but totally oblivious.

The good thing about Atlantean, is that you're too passed out to dream. If he weren't so gone, he might have ones that he'd rather not have.

But as the night wears on, he does shift a little. He hadn't managed to ingest that much.

There's been some rest, which is a good thing. it was needed. And some pottering about, not doing much of anything.

But things are still not right. Neither is sure that they were clear earlier and that doesn't make for a relaxed atmosphere. So they're both...around the house, doing...things. And not really talking about it, both lost in trying to work things out.

Sadly, up until this point, not with each other.

He hates that he's left Random sleeping alone, but he can't cope with the proximity at the moment. And much like the last few nights, he can't sleep either, there's too much going on in his head. It occurs to him that he'd like to talk to someone that might have a somewhat objective viewpoint...but that means bothering Arithon, as he's the only one that he'd trust with this stuff.

It's late though. He sits downstairs in sweatpants and T-shirt, chain-smoking and with a bottle of scotch on the table. He's not touched it yet but he wants to. God, he'd give anything to just get slaughtered right now.

And eventually, when the night's late enough to be classed as early morning, he gives in to the urge to talk. There's things he needs to tell the man anyway. He just feels like a shit for bugging him at this time of the morning, and when he's got a new wife to care for.

But he can't help himself. He reaches for Random's jacket and locates the Trump, making contact with his brother.

'Arithon?'

Ramon, as promised, has waited up for Random. He's in bed and reading but still very much awake.

Which is good, because when Random staggers in it looks like he needs someone to talk to. Desperately.

'Baby?'