milliways_bar | (no subject)

Ramon sees him and grits his teeth a little. He's...worried. Another virtually sleepless night hasn't helped.

But still, he's also glad to see him. And now they're both in the bar, its not like he can ~~stay away~~ avoid him anyway. So he wanders over slowly, sipping at a tequila all the time.

'Hey.' And yes, that's a bottle of extremely expensive vintage champagne in his hand. He sets it in front of him. 'Happy Birthday.'

Random gives him a delighted grin as he reads the champaigne label.

"You have good taste. Tonight, we can use it to christen my brand new livingspace."

He pulls a small gold key with the numbers '67' etched into the top out of his pocket.

Ramon stares at the key for a moment. There's a small smile on his face but inside he's uneasy.

'Sounds like fun.'

You just assumed I'd come over? That's rich.

But...fuck, I want to...

"Well, if you don't want to, you don't have to."

Yes, I assumed you'd come over. You are sleeping with me, aren't you?

His smile is shaky.

"Though I believe I can promise you'll enjoy yourself."

'Oh, I already know I'll enjoy myself.' He sits down finally and his smile is a bit more real. He always enjoys himself with Random. 'Yes, I'd like to come over.'

Some of the trepidation is falling away. The man has that effect on him.

"Oooh, good. The bed is big. And lonely."

He grins, and grabs his bag off the floor beside him.

"The cutest little Minions of Evil tried to set me on fire yesterday. Look at what they made me a sign for my door."

He pulls out a white sheet of paper with scratchy charcoal printing- 'Tha Prn-ss Pal-lis.'

'Cute little Minions of Evil? I dont think I've met them. I thought Minions of Evil were...' Hmmm, risky sentence. '...well, evil. Not cute.'

He casts an eye over the printing. A dry, 'Nice. The bed is more interesting than what's on the door though.'

"They were like little black and red and orange plushies."

He shakes his head. Most people probably wouldn't have found them cute. But Random has a straaaaange perspective on these things.

"And I'm inclined to agree with you, of course."

'They tried to set you on fire? I hope you put them in their place.'

The talk of putting people in their place reminds him of Castle. He looks up at Random properly for the first time, then frowns.

'What happened to the bruise? You heal that fast?'

"I have a Guardian Angel."

He's still endlessly amused by this fact, and there's a strange kind of horrified wonder on his face.

"I picked her up in the bar. She's younger than me, and her name is Sariel. She healed me up last night. And they offered to set my pants on fire, but I told them I wasn't interested. We got talking."

Pants on fire? Picking up young healers?

He orders them a couple of scotchs. Sometimes Random just breaks his head.

'I thought the bruise was sexy.'

"Well, that's reassuring. I have a tendancy to turn up black and blue, so get used to it."

He still has marks on his chest from where Castle shoved him. And a new series of marks along his side from his accidental tumble off the barstool.

He picks up the scotch, and takes a long sip.

Ramon laughs a little. 'I guess you weren't lying when you said you were unpopular here also. You could probably keep the young healer in business.'

He picks up his own drink.

'So how did the move go?'

"It went well. I managed not to break anything too important."

He stares at the scotch for a long moment.

"I do bruise easily, but the marks go faster than they would on a human, so it rather evens out. And Sariel's a few thousand older than you."

He toys with his glass. What's that supposed to mean?

'Closer to your age then?'

"No, not really. If you talked with us for a few hours, you'd probably think she was much older."

He sets his cup down on the counter, and carefully rolls up the paper.

"I mean if you call her 'the young healer' then she'll probably laugh her ass off. Actually probably not, given angels. Too pure to poke fun and all that."

'Oh, she's an angel?'

His voice his flat and he doesn't look at Random. He rubs at his temples a little and tries to cheer up.

'So, you have any plans for this evening? It's your birthday, want me to buy you dinner?'

"She is."

He smiles, and gently traces the champaigne bottle.

"If you're interested, I know this great bar. Little place called Milliways... have you heard of it?"

He smiles back a little. 'I think it rings a bell. Why, you think we should live it up and have a drink there?'

"Sounds like a plan."

He pushes his hair out of his face. What it sounds like is the best birthday he's going to have had in a very long time.

"I appreciate this. Thank you. Damn those non-alcohol drinking merfolk."

He nods, actually starting to think that this isn't going to be so bad. 'Merfolk? From when you wre hiding out in the ocean?'

He spends a moment trying to struggle with how exactly that worked, then gives up and just asks. 'So - I know you said you did by magic. But...how? And how long were you there for?'

"Yes. I have a sister who lives there, and we're close. She pulled some strings, and got me a spell that gave water the same properties as air."

He picks up his Scotch glass again.

"So I lived there for about a century. And hated every minute of it. Then one day I found a door..."

'A door at the bottom of the ocean?' He laughs. Only Random could say that with a straight face. 'So tell me what merfolk are like. Like in books, all long hair and fishtails?'

He wonders whether there would be any point asking exactly why he was hiding from his family. He'd refused to answer all other enquiries. 'And...your sister lives there?'

"She does. She's part merfolk. So no, they don't have tails."

His fingers clench a little on the Scotch glass.

"They look like you and me. Only greener. And with gills here..."

He traces a line from from his ear to his collarbone. There is, of course, a bruise there.

He was going to ask how they swim all the time then, but he's instantly distracted by the bruise. He shoots a hand out and pulls his shirt collar back a little, a deep frown on his face. When he speaks his voice is angry and dark.

'Castle did this too?'

That fucking asshole...

"That one? I... maybe. But I don't think so. No. I did a bad Tarot reading and went ass over teakettle off a barstool."

He shudders, and his fingers whiten as they clutch the scotch glass.

"Big Evil."

His sudden anger is punctured with the phrase 'ass over teakettle' and he has to fight back a laugh as he blinks at him. But then...

'Who was it for? I didn't know it affected you that badly...' He smirks. '...I guess I wouldn't, I know nothing about it. And at least you didn't fall off your stool when I pulled the Devil card so...' He breaks off. 'What happened?'

"Somebody's been using magic to fuck with my friends."

He sets the Scotch glass down.

"When I do a deep reading, I go kinda wonky. What I saw surprised me enough to let a rather large piece of bad into my head. And barstools aren't the steadiest of surfaces."

He demonstrates quickly, gripping the edge of the bar and rocking back on two legs, then settling the seat flat on the floor.

"But it was the least I could do for Gorlim. He'll need all the help he can get."

He listens closely and is brought up with a start. 'You did it for Gorlim? Thats...interestng.'

He reaches for his drink. 'I would have thought he wouldn't go near you now. What happened to him?'

"Someone put an abrupt and violent compulsion on him. He's still sleeping it off, I think."

His hand reaches out and his knuckles rap quickly on the polished wood of the bar.

"Andres asked me to look into it. That should give you an indication of how bad it was."

He turns an eye at the rapping of the knuckles. 'Superstitious?'

He takes a drink, an amused look on his face. 'Yes I suppose it must have been bad for that. What sort of compulsion was it? And do you know who did it?'

"I'll take all the luck I can get, at this point."

He leans against the bar.

"Made him try to kill someone. Castle and Andres had to physically pry him off. And I have a vague idea of who did it, but if I told you, he'd kill you. And you should have seen Andres's face when I shared that particular tidbit."

[OOC: Arg, connection crapped out. Bastard thing! Will be a bit slow but hopefully it'll be OK again later on.

Is the look similar to the one now on Ramon's face? He's a bit sceptical and might as well come right out and say 'Can't be that bad'.

'He'd kill me just for knowing his name? I'm impressed. Even I've never done that.'

He has a hard time taking any affliction of Gorlim's seriously, it might be noticed.

"Damned good thing, too. After my oh-so-subtle near heart failure upon our introduction."

He snickers at the memory.

"God, that was funny. But I really can't tell you his name. I'm not suicidal, not after making it this long."

[ooc: not a problem.]

There's an amused - and quite proud - smile on Ramon's face at that memory too.

'Surprised me as well. I'm used to people knowing who I am before I've met them but no one - in this bar at least - has spat scotch across the table when they heard my name. Andres must have really spun some tales to you.'

He orders them another couple of drinks. 'So you know this person - does he know that you know him? I suppose he mustn't or he would have killed you already.'

"It was just so deliciously ironic. I mean, he'd just warned me not to talk to you. And I'd just come down from his room from our first tryst."

He shrugs.

"And I know him personally. He's asked me to read for him before, but our understanding was that I wouldn't go deeper without his permission."

So now...

Ramon chuckles. 'Timing couldn't have been better if you ask me. Spitting that drink made quite the impression.'

He's a little sobered by the conversation though. 'So what happened when you read for him before? It was OK, as long as you don't go deep?'

"He was there, and controlled it. Shook me up, but didn't do any lasting harm."

He stretches and stands, picking up the champaigne bottle.

"I'll save this for later, then. We can share it over supper?"

It seems like he doesn't really want to talk about it so Ramon lets it drop. It is his birthday after all. He turns to the bar and asks for an ice bucket for the bottle.

'For supper, for bed, wherever you like.'

Why yes, that is a cant-wait-for-later smirk on his face, and he's not ashamed to admit it.

"I'll think on it."

He slides the bottle into the bucket, then in an easy sway leans in to whisper in Ramon's ear:

"See you tonight."