[It's hard not to feel sorry for Sands even though he's probably lucky to be alive and should be counting his blessings. While it might be true that Matt can't see the extent of the scars, he chooses to see it as a healed wound rather than a disfigurement, a temporary setback rather than a disability. Maybe it's just dressing up what is permanent damage done, but even a simple change of mindset can make it less debilitating of a pit to be floundering in.
Anyway, he's not really one to talk. He hasn't been in the emotional or mental state that his new friend is currently in in a long, long time. Matt's got a tight-lipped smile on even though he knows it can't be seen when he knocks, freshly showered with fresh clothes and a spritz of light, summery cologne. There'll be no pity party tonight.]
You ready to go? [If Matt's aware of any struggles in between the time he arrived and the time the door opened, his tone of voice seems blissfully oblivious.]
[Sands is honestly lucky to even be where he is right now.
He survived his eyes being brutally removed, followed shortly by several gunshot wounds that have left him stiff and uncomfortable half the time. On top of that, he knows the CIA might come after him to finish him off at any point... they've just chosen not to considering his sorry state.
Maybe. Who knows if there are ulterior motives? Having been an agent until recently, he knows there's usually a reason to keep someone alive when they should be dead.
Sands knows he should be grateful to be alive and back in the states, but goddamn, it fucking sucks to be in this state. He's taken to wrapping gentle fabric around his head to cover his eye sockets most of the time since it's more comfortable than sunglasses. But since they're going out tonight, he swaps the two for a better look.
Sunglasses, a sweater (who knows what color), and some jeans. Nothing flashy. Not since he's trying to lie low.
Cologne has become a real necessity lately, so he has some of that on too. He can still sense Matt coming before he knocks on the door. Strange, that. Keeping his items in the same spot has become vital, making it easier to prepare to go out when he finally answers the knock. He'll be damned if he walks around with a cane (still in that stubborn phase), so there's a lot of wall touching wherever he goes.]
Ready as I'll ever be.
[He shuts the door and fumbles to lock it. Each little thing feels like a success, at least. Look at him, locking a door! Great...]
[Yeah the cane is unfortunately part and parcel of navigating the pitch black world. It will come in handy for other reasons, but he'll probably need to start with learning how to use it to not walk into people or trip over things first. Baby steps.]
I've called a cab. [They could have walked, but he'll spare Sands the misery. There's plenty of time to wallow - they don't have to rush to create reasons for it tonight.]
Trust me, you'll get a lot more out of a bar than you will a stripclub. [There'll be plenty of pity and awkward silences everywhere they go, but a stripclub is just going to make him miss what he can't see even more.]
Do you plan on staying in this city a while? [There has to be a life after all that madness. Other avenues to pursue. Things that have been put off indefinitely that he'll now have time and space to explore.]
[In addition to his health and sense of sight, his pride has taken a major hit. It's not as easy to be confident in this state. Bravado so very forced at this point, and even he can tell it's all bullshit.]
Great.
[He'll take the cab and one less reason to feel awful so early in the night.]
You're probably right. [Said with a sigh. Not being able to see naked people has to be one of the worst parts about all of this. He needs to get laid, but it's probably more of that pity that keeps people away from him. Unlike Matt, he can't function almost normally in the dark. Who knows what people think?]
Fuck if I know. [There's a part of him that itches to get back to Mexico and fuck up every cartel member he can find until someone finally shoots him dead. Other than that? Nope, no plans other than just surviving.] No where else to go. Might as well stick around the only buddy I've got, right?
[He makes sure he knows where Matt's back is before patting it twice.]
You're a swell guy. I really mean that. Do I say that too often? Nah, I'll just keep saying it.
[It's undeniable that a lot of experiences are visual, from big screens and small screens to art to, well, stripclubs. It's better that they start focusing on things that they can enjoy. He squeezes Sands's shoulder as he climbs into the cab, getting him to duck his head a little lower in case he hits it on the way in.]
Heh, thanks, but. You know it'll take some time, but you'll get there. [It's a promise, not simply empty words to accompany empty gestures. However long this won't feel normal, he can't say for sure. It's different for everyone. What he does know is that it's not the end of the world.]
New friends, new life, new purpose. All of it. [And hopefully it's not some reimagined version of going to Mexico and shooting everybody. That's hardly his idea of moving on. Maybe it's asking too much of people, to let go and move on like no one had wronged them. But the alternative, holding onto these wrongs in a tightly-clenched fist and going off on an out of control spree - it's not really a life worth living either.]
But not tonight - tonight we'll... have a few drinks, and see what happens. I think we're almost there.
[Sands simply grunts softly at Matt's optimistic words.
He's not past the phase where he feels the need to get revenge from the remaining people who ruined his life, or just the cartels in general. Whatever 'new life' or 'purpose' out there for him isn't going to be anything like the thrilling one he left behind with the CIA.
Even if those fuckers are definitely keeping an eye on him, just waiting for him to step out of line. He has no doubt.]
It's better than nothing.
[A few drinks with someone who can relate is a more pleasant evening than listening to the TV and moping.]
Great. But if you can't get me laid, then you'll have to do it yourself.
[It's a joke. Sort of. Funny to imagine, anyway. Neither of them would be able to see shit, but in a way it'd be like fucking with the lights off.]
[Yeah, you know, Matt will at some point gently suggest ditching the TV. It's such a visual medium that Sands is better off with the radio or podcasts or some other streaming service that doesn't involve lots of action that he'll miss out on. Or long, meaningful silences that are really just awkward stretches where you're not sure if the TV is working or not.
Matt laughs the joke off (he's pretty sure it was a joke, anyway) though as he scratches a sensitive spot above his ear, he tries his best to sound reassuring than awkwardly fumbling.]
I think you're going to regret that more than I am but uh, let's just get a couple of drinks and see how the night goes, alright? [He doubts Sands will enjoy the pity sex that will inevitably come with his new way of life, but he can figure that out on his own. He's pretty sure the cab driver isn't interested to eavesdrop on this conversation.]
Come on. [Matt hands the cash over as their ride comes to a stop, a small, simple, ordinary task that will probably frustrate Sands a bit when all the bills are the same size and feel the same.]
Anyway, I mean. [It's easier to joke around when it's just the two of them.] Think of it this way - I'm sure you've always wanted to try some things blindfolded.
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Anyway, he's not really one to talk. He hasn't been in the emotional or mental state that his new friend is currently in in a long, long time. Matt's got a tight-lipped smile on even though he knows it can't be seen when he knocks, freshly showered with fresh clothes and a spritz of light, summery cologne. There'll be no pity party tonight.]
You ready to go? [If Matt's aware of any struggles in between the time he arrived and the time the door opened, his tone of voice seems blissfully oblivious.]
He survived his eyes being brutally removed, followed shortly by several gunshot wounds that have left him stiff and uncomfortable half the time. On top of that, he knows the CIA might come after him to finish him off at any point... they've just chosen not to considering his sorry state.
Maybe. Who knows if there are ulterior motives? Having been an agent until recently, he knows there's usually a reason to keep someone alive when they should be dead.
Sands knows he should be grateful to be alive and back in the states, but goddamn, it fucking sucks to be in this state. He's taken to wrapping gentle fabric around his head to cover his eye sockets most of the time since it's more comfortable than sunglasses. But since they're going out tonight, he swaps the two for a better look.
Sunglasses, a sweater (who knows what color), and some jeans. Nothing flashy. Not since he's trying to lie low.
Cologne has become a real necessity lately, so he has some of that on too. He can still sense Matt coming before he knocks on the door. Strange, that. Keeping his items in the same spot has become vital, making it easier to prepare to go out when he finally answers the knock. He'll be damned if he walks around with a cane (still in that stubborn phase), so there's a lot of wall touching wherever he goes.]
Ready as I'll ever be.
[He shuts the door and fumbles to lock it. Each little thing feels like a success, at least. Look at him, locking a door! Great...]
Let's go.
I've called a cab. [They could have walked, but he'll spare Sands the misery. There's plenty of time to wallow - they don't have to rush to create reasons for it tonight.]
Trust me, you'll get a lot more out of a bar than you will a stripclub. [There'll be plenty of pity and awkward silences everywhere they go, but a stripclub is just going to make him miss what he can't see even more.]
Do you plan on staying in this city a while? [There has to be a life after all that madness. Other avenues to pursue. Things that have been put off indefinitely that he'll now have time and space to explore.]
Great.
[He'll take the cab and one less reason to feel awful so early in the night.]
You're probably right. [Said with a sigh. Not being able to see naked people has to be one of the worst parts about all of this. He needs to get laid, but it's probably more of that pity that keeps people away from him. Unlike Matt, he can't function almost normally in the dark. Who knows what people think?]
Fuck if I know. [There's a part of him that itches to get back to Mexico and fuck up every cartel member he can find until someone finally shoots him dead. Other than that? Nope, no plans other than just surviving.] No where else to go. Might as well stick around the only buddy I've got, right?
[He makes sure he knows where Matt's back is before patting it twice.]
You're a swell guy. I really mean that. Do I say that too often? Nah, I'll just keep saying it.
Heh, thanks, but. You know it'll take some time, but you'll get there. [It's a promise, not simply empty words to accompany empty gestures. However long this won't feel normal, he can't say for sure. It's different for everyone. What he does know is that it's not the end of the world.]
New friends, new life, new purpose. All of it. [And hopefully it's not some reimagined version of going to Mexico and shooting everybody. That's hardly his idea of moving on. Maybe it's asking too much of people, to let go and move on like no one had wronged them. But the alternative, holding onto these wrongs in a tightly-clenched fist and going off on an out of control spree - it's not really a life worth living either.]
But not tonight - tonight we'll... have a few drinks, and see what happens. I think we're almost there.
He's not past the phase where he feels the need to get revenge from the remaining people who ruined his life, or just the cartels in general. Whatever 'new life' or 'purpose' out there for him isn't going to be anything like the thrilling one he left behind with the CIA.
Even if those fuckers are definitely keeping an eye on him, just waiting for him to step out of line. He has no doubt.]
It's better than nothing.
[A few drinks with someone who can relate is a more pleasant evening than listening to the TV and moping.]
Great. But if you can't get me laid, then you'll have to do it yourself.
[It's a joke. Sort of. Funny to imagine, anyway. Neither of them would be able to see shit, but in a way it'd be like fucking with the lights off.]
sorry, I've had one of those weeks
Matt laughs the joke off (he's pretty sure it was a joke, anyway) though as he scratches a sensitive spot above his ear, he tries his best to sound reassuring than awkwardly fumbling.]
I think you're going to regret that more than I am but uh, let's just get a couple of drinks and see how the night goes, alright? [He doubts Sands will enjoy the pity sex that will inevitably come with his new way of life, but he can figure that out on his own. He's pretty sure the cab driver isn't interested to eavesdrop on this conversation.]
Come on. [Matt hands the cash over as their ride comes to a stop, a small, simple, ordinary task that will probably frustrate Sands a bit when all the bills are the same size and feel the same.]
Anyway, I mean. [It's easier to joke around when it's just the two of them.] Think of it this way - I'm sure you've always wanted to try some things blindfolded.