milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Ramon is in the bar and is not in a good mood at all. No particular reason, he just gets like that sometimes. Company could either make it worse, or better, depending on who you are and what you have to say. Either way, he'd like to talk to someone because being pissed off on your own is never as much fun.

[OOC: Irish firebomb!tag: Fiona Glenanne]

[OOC: 2:30am and I have to hit the hay. Am around for slowtimes...well, until forever, practically. Catch y'all tomorrow!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He looks up from where he'd been staring into his glass of tequila, and frowns.

'...Jason?'

He thinks he got that right. It's been a while and a lot has happened.

Jason nods, a little uncomfortable.

"Yeah. It's been awhile." He fidgets a moment, then gestures to the open chair. "May I?"

He raises his eyebrows, more than a little curious. A few years ago, he very much got the impression that this guy would like to rip his throat out.

'Sure.'

Beat.

'This is unexpected.'

To say the least.

A few years ago he would have been happy to.
Still seems like a fun thing to do, even if his friends haven't long since gone.

He sits, pulling the beer bottle to his lips. "Yeah. Uh...yeah."

He takes a breath and looks evenly at Ramon. "Might as well not beat around the bush. I have a question for you about...business."

'Ah.'

He smiles slowly. 'Business' means Jason wants something from him and that always gives him the upper hand. In his mind, if nowhere else.

He waves a hand in that universal gesture of go on.

'I'm listening.'

Jason doesn't miss that slow smile, nor does miss that look in Ramon's eyes. He doesn't want to owe this guy anything, but...

He's done enough swallowing of his pride and bowing down to people stronger than him. It's time to take matters into his own hands.

He surreptitiously glances around again, keeping his voice low. "I need a gun," he says buntly. "Hand gun; something powerful."

'Mmmhmm.'

He doesn't sound surprised, or curious, or anything. He doesn't need to know why the man wants it.

'When?

Is it a human you're trying to kill?

And do you have the money?'

The last question is, to him, the most important.

Jason nods. "I've got the money. I keep a direct line to my account here."

He'd been saving it for a place for Khemrys, but now...

"No. I'd need special ammo. Glaser Safety Rounds is what a friend of mine uses, but I think she tips them with silver. It'd be a custom order for you, I'd think."

He takes a long swallow of his beer. "As soon as you can get them...I'm not looking to wait long."

'For a werewolf,' he says flatly, thinking. He can't go home just now but he has two other worlds he has access to and people who can work with weapons on both.

'Do you know if your friend uses them with any particular weapon or are you not bothered? If you want power, I'd suggest a forty-five. And they're expensive.'

Must reiterate the cost. He's not about to let Jason screw him on this, though he supposes it wouldn't be too hard to shift silver tipped bullets in Milliways.

"Look, I know jack shit about guns. I just know that I need something that's going to be small and cause a lot of damage."

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "How much are we talking here?"

He contemplates, weighing up the cost against what Jason looks like he can afford against profit against how much the guy obviously needs this.

'I'll do you the gun itself for five hundred. The ammo will be a lot more - how many bullets do you need?'

Jason takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He doesn't argue, because going through Ramon will be a hell of a lot easier than trying not ot get caught buying one in his world. Or rather, the fucked up version of his world.

He closes his eyes, obviously doing some mental calculations.

"Do...do they come in certain amounts?"

It's obvious he knows nothing at all about guns.

'Five hundred is cheap for a hand gun,' he tells him, in case he was getting ideas about taking his business elsewhere. And shakes his head.

'A custom order, you can have as many or as few as you want. Probably be a bit cheaper overall if you buy more, but its up to you.'

"Ok."

His brow knits as he tries to think. Damn it, he just wished Anita was here.

"If I can't get the job done with a few shots, I'm not going to be needing any more."

'So...four? Six?'

He's internally quite amused that Jason is obviously quite poor.

Jason sighs. "Make it six." He's really hoping he doesn't need any more than that.

By Ramon's standards he's likely in a poverty state, but when in his own version of his world, between work and Jean Claude's gifts, he lives very well.

He nods, all business.

'I would guess that it'll come in at somethink like two thousand for the ammo but I won't be able to tell you for sure until I speak to the guy who's going to make them for you. Do you want me to get the price and come back to you or should I just tell him to go ahead and make them anyway?'

He refrains from cursing. He can think of a lot of things he'd buy with two thousand. But then, can he put a price on seeing those two dead...again?

He shakes his head. "No. Just get them made. Do you need money down?"

Ramon laughs shortly and reaches for his drink.

'No. I imagine you're good for it. And if it turns out you're not...well, I'll have this shiny new gun and six silver-tipped bullets to put in it, see?'

And Jason knows very well that he'd do it.

"I'm good for it," he mutters quietly.

He drains the rest of his beer and waves to Ivanhoe for another.

"I'm a...businessman such as yourself doesn't need to be asked to keep this quiet?"

He shrugs a shoulder languidly, looking amused.

'If that's what you want. It's not like I give a damn who you're planning on killing, as long as it isn't me.'

Jason gives him a friendly smile.

"No, I wouldn't need silver tipped ammo for that. Though I'm sure it'd still do the trick."

Ramon eyes him steadily, unconcerned.

'You may find it wouldn't be as easy as it might have been years ago. And you can keep your veiled threats to yourself if you want me to get this stuff for you.'

The not-so-veiled too.

Jason's eyes roll. "I have no intention of fighting with you. Arithon wouldn't like it."

He knows what Arithon can do, but he's more afraid of losing his friendship. Though only marginally.

Arithon can be scary as hell.

His beer arrives and he gratefully tilts it back, trying to wash away his next words. "I'm sorry." (Oh, it really is hard)

'Sorry? For what?'

Confusing! Ramon wasn't insulted by the threat. He's nfinitely more comfortable when people are at odds with him, to ge honest.

'No need to apologise. You're right about Arithon not liking it but he's not here so I wouldn't worry about that.'