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“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”
Meursault’s friend— self-proclaimed pal— Raymond tailed behind him, pouting.
Raymond Sintes is a man a head shorter than his friend. Though he made himself Meursault’s opposite with those flashy, gaudy clothes– also having quite the nasty habit of never fully buttoning up his shirt. Though he’s an accomplished fellow, a big shot he’d like to think in N-Corp. Everyone knew his name (not for necessarily good reasons, per se). And Meursault? He was lucky to have Raymond around.
“You still went against company guidelines,” Meursault said without batting an eye, continuing forward.
Was he still hung up on that? Raymond sighed loudly, throwing his hands down. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Can we go back to being pals again?”
“There’s no reason to apologize to me.”
“All I’m saying is you need to loosen up sometimes!” Raymond chimed in after, trying (and failing) to get in front of Meursault multiple times. Meursault simply moved away. “You’re always stressed about something. I didn’t even get in trou— hey! I’m tryna talk one-on-one, like real men… Oi, quit moving! I said sorry! ”
Meursault stopped. Like an annoying fly, Raymond wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.
Exasperated, Raymond tried to get a word in. “Okay, maybe you’re mad at me—“
“— I’m not mad at you; I just don’t feel like talking to you right now,” Meursault clarified.
Meursault’s words he meant in heartfelt sincerity; there weren’t any hidden connotations beneath his words. Raymond, however, didn’t know that.
His mouth contorted into a twitchy smile, offended. Sometimes, Raymond wanted to sock this guy. Did he think he was better? At the same time, Meursault’s peculiarities kept him around from what was initially a business transaction, and admittedly— Raymond mused to himself— Meursault was a handsome face he wouldn’t mind associating with. He’s stuck around, too: half his other friends couldn’t be assed. Raymond calms; he couldn’t be mad for long: he’s struck gold!
His girl was pretty, to boot.
Besides, Meursault was his man– he wouldn’t mind if he played with him a little, right? It’ll certainly make him feel better.
Raymond, coming from behind, hooked his arm around Meursault, pulling him close. “Don’t treat me like this— like I’m some… bad guy,” he rolled his eyes, whining.
“I’m not,” Meursault bluntly stated, glancing away.
Raymond’s hand lingers a moment longer, a smirk spreading across his face.
Mumbling to him, he proposed: “Why don’t we… smooth things over dinner?”
Like a deal with the devil, he coaxed Meursault, and they– both– knew he was weak to a good meal.
“...” Still, he didn’t look convinced.
“Your favorite bar.”
Meursault looked to Raymond.
“All on me,” added a cheekily-grinning Raymond.
Meursault thought about it. And thought about it more.
“Alright, that’s fine.” He nods.
And as Raymond silently celebrated, what he failed to realize was Meursault already had his suspicions. There was probably more to it than a “meal to smooth over a minor irritation of his,” considering Raymond was getting… closer than usual. Ah, and he realized: he was trying to test his limits.
Rather than call it out, he kept quiet: Meursault thought with his stomach.
〜
Widened eyes took aback as the first spurts of ketchup splattered across golden cheese fries.
Raymond’s mouth dropped, squirming away. “W-wooah, sure you need that much…?”
“Oui,” Meursault said, stuffing his face.
The sound of glasses clinking and shouts from rowdy men for the bartender was the atmosphere of their afternoon dinner. It was a hole-in-a-wall type bar, one he was proud to say he introduced Meursault to. And sure, maybe Raymond stumbled inside once while pissing drunk, but great food’s where a great bar is.
“Hey, is this really all you want?” Raymond loudly said, bothering the man as he ate.
Meursault swallowed his bite, wiping his fingers on a napkin.
“I’m satisfied with this, but I will not complain if you choose to order anything else.”
“You’re boring. Hey! Louis, my man! ”
Calling over the bartender, Raymond reclined back in his swivel seat. “I’m gettin’ drinks.”
Meursault paused. “We have work tomorrow. It would be ill-advised to drink in excess.”
Okay, maybe Raymond was lying– just a little– when he said this. But it’s all in good faith for his pal who just needs to live a little.
Louis, the bartender, came over. The two exchanged a handshake. “Raymond! Nice seeing you ‘round here again.”
Raymond whistled a little out-and-in sound. “Looking great, Louie! Hey, two sours would be great,” he said as he lifted two fingers.
The bartender chuckled. “Aye, got that, sir-ee.” Though, on an added whisper: “and make sure you don’t cause any trouble.”
“Pshh, I’ve decided to stay good~” Raymond blew him off.
Meursault stayed quiet, watching them two interact smoothly. Eventually, the bartender left to get them their drinks.
“Soo~rry, did you say something? It was loud inside,” Raymond said innocently, batting his eyelashes. That was wrong, maybe, but he wasn’t entirely lying– it was loud, and Meursault didn’t ever speak up.
“...” Meursault grunted, and Raymond swears he saw a crease in his frown.
“... C’mon, you’ve never passed up a free drink, aye?” He lifted his hands, stretching out like a plank with the most innocuous expression he could muster.
Meursault sighed, compromising. “At the very least drink in moderation,” was the Frenchman’s terms.
“Promise, cross over my heart.” Raymond grinned ear to ear with absolute certainty.
He absolutely did not drink in moderation.
After the 7th or so glass of increasingly alcoholic beverages, Raymond swore he was going to nurse a hangover tomorrow. Before he knew it, he was ranting to Meursault all over again.
“You know, some people –” a glass lifts from his lips– “just need a little roughin’.”
Raymond slams his glass on the counter crowded with other glasses. The smell of alcohol reeked on his clothes. Though, Raymond’s intentions of getting the stone-faced man to “loosen up” did work to some extent in the end– said man in question had a warm flush all over his face.
“Y-You’ve made your point exceptionally clear,” Meursault commented. Noticeably, with minor difficulty, he did find himself distracted.
“That’s not it!” Raymond shouted.
“... They aahlso… need to be taught a lesson.” He slurred. One eye blinked after the other.
“Incredible.”
“I need a piss,” Raymond loudly announced, getting up. “Will be back soon.”
Raymond left, and Meursault was alone. He finished up his cheese fries. Eventually, Raymond was taking too long, and he had half the mind to check up on him.
“Oi! What the hell are you doing!” Was the voice coming out of the bathroom where Raymond was?
Meursault got up at once, but it was already too late. Suddenly, the door swung open, and a big guy sailed out.
Raymond was wailing punches all over him.
“You wanna say that again, huh? Huh?! ” Raymond shouts at the top of his lungs before he too was sent by a punch to the ground.
Immediately, the bar goes up in chaos. The big guy stood up at once to slam a recovering Raymond back to the floor, but then Raymond swerved to the side, leading the guy to topple onto the ground. Jabbing an elbow into the guy's head, he tries again to get up till he gets knocked down.
Meursault and Raymond are kicked out of another bar.
Walking outside the establishment with their head in their arms, Raymond stabilized himself on a rightfully agitated Meursault.
Raymond was still trying to defend his position, to no avail. “It was– hic– a matter of a man’s pride…!”
“It is the alcohol that is encouraging you to act in such an abrasive manner. I ask of you to not drink around me in the future.”
Raymond winced. “Caan’t you– understand?!... Ddun… treat me so coldly, we’re pals… aren’t we?”
Meursault didn’t respond to Raymond’s pouting.
Raymond pouts more. “Y’know, he was talkin’ ‘bout you.”
“Really?” That was new. Meursault looked at him strangely.
“... Yeah.”
“Ah.”
Unexpected, but Meursault didn’t have any reason not to believe him.
“So… Can you forgive me?” Raymond made puppy eyes.
Meursault had no response again.
“Please?”
Finally, the man sighed softly, pressing a finger to the bridge between his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
They were still trying to drag themselves back home, maybe tag the closest cab. For the next few minutes, they just walked, with Raymond doing his best to balance himself on Meursault. In this, Raymond found that his pal was sturdy– and warm.
Raymond loudly yawned. “You’re cozy, you know that, right?~ I think I’m falling asleep as we walk…”
“Please don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to!” Somehow, Raymond found the most trivial things to protest over.
“I believe I have room to suspect that is highly likely.”
“Was not!”
“...”
However insufferable Raymond was, Meursault didn’t entirely mind spending this time with him. Although on occasion– he did embarrass him, and this would be one of those.
Raymond slid over to Meursault as they walked down the streets, wearing a sleazy smile. “My maan… Meursault! If you were a woman, if I think about it… I would take you out on a date.”
“... I… See?” Meursault looked over incredulously, his brows bunched up.
“You’d be a pretty lady.”
Meursault wished he’d stop teasing him. “I can’t imagine that,” Meursault settles as an answer.
“You’d be one of the only good ones.”
Ah, there it was, Meursault thought.
“Would I be a pretty lady?”
The taller man gave it some genuine thought. In the end, he couldn’t think of anything, but probably.
“Probably, yes.”
“Jackpot!” Raymond pumped his fist in the sky, before deflating again. His legs were beginning to kill him.
Raymond turned his face to Meursault. “... Meeursooo… Can’t we take a break?” He groaned.
“...” He sighed. “Fine with me.”
Eventually, they found themselves a bench to share space with. Though, with Raymond spread like that, Meursault was hard-pressed to find himself little space to squeeze himself into.
A cigarette lit up, and Meursault smoked.
“... Could I have one?”
A trail of smoke wafts into the air, into the surrounding city. “You’ve been asking too much, Raymond.”
“Are you saying you can’t share even one ?” Raymond huffed, crossing his arms.
“My last is my lucky,” Meursault said without skipping a beat.
Raymond steered his body clear away. “You always say that ‘cause you don’t wanna share.”
Meursault took this opportunity to reclaim the space on the bench.
Finally, a brilliant solution lit up in Raymond’s mind.
“Hey.” Raymond abruptly said, turning over.
“...?”
Instinctively, Meursault’s head looked to who was calling him.
Raymond took his cigarette in two of his fingers, flipped it around, and placed it between his lips.
The waft of smoke between their noses tickled.
Meursault quietly pressed his mouth in a thin line, and was his face warmed by the alcohol or the cigarette? Or something else?
In the midst of the passing crowds, noise, and urban hell, he was quiet. Until finally, he lifted his head.
“C’mon,” Raymond said, pursing his lips. “It’s between two friends.”