Ramon Salazar

There's a city out there, waiting to be enjoyed. It will be, later. He's not the type of man that's going to let this

(misery, despair)

setback stop him getting on with life. So there'll be dinner, and dancing, and lots of alcohol, dressed up to the nines and letting

(Random)

everyone see that he's not beaten. Later, that's what there'll be.

But for now, he lies in bed and smokes and lets himself think about it. It's safe, because Random's out being a good samaritan and he's alone. The room and the slum outside is a good backdrop for his mood, he thinks, as his eyes follow cracks in the ceiling and his ears listen to the sounds of pointless lives passing the time outside the window.

In times past, he'd deal with - well, not this type of emotion, because he's never felt it before - but this type of knockback, by surrounding himself with people that fear and follow him, lackeys and hangers-on, booze and prostitutes. He'd throw a party that would last for days, forcing people to be around until they all passed out and woke up with bleary eyes and hangovers they wouldn't forget. Maybe that's what he should do now, when he gets back to the bar.

But he won't. Times have changed, even if he hasn't, really. He knows people think he has, even Random does. The opinions of the majority don't bother him overly, because they'll see the truth when it suits him. It wouldn't be right though, to say that Random's opinion doesn't bother him, because it does. Part and parcel of falling for him, he thinks.

He's going, Ramon knows that. Wants him to now, just so it's done. And he can't live another five hundred years with this over him. Random's right about that. So, better that it's over with. He hates it, but won't fight it anymore.

What's bothering him now then? Well...he has no idea how long he'll be left alone. Just him and the kid, and the knowledge that Random's in a relationship, fake or not, in some other universe. And a large part of him can't help but wonder what that's going to be like, being alone again.

He knows Random will be back. And when he comes home, he'll be welcomed and loved and the whole sordid mess will be behind them. But in the meantime?

Ramon's eyes wander over the cracks in the ceiling, watching them split and collide, weaving a broken web over the dirty white paint. No answers appear. But for the first time in his life, he's starting to wish that he wasn't the type of man he is.