forum las vegas lights // oxo // closed

Started January 22, 2022 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

You're a detective assigned to solve the murder of one Crystal Valentine - a world champion poker player found dead in her Caesar's Palace hotel suite. There's no real leads, hardly any evidence, and an inconclusive cause of death… but odds are the murderer's one of Crystal's many enemies. Somebody she's bested in her high stakes poker rounds.

But the only way to get true information about the potential suspects is through an exclusive elite underground poker club. With the bouncer and head of the club - Mr. Whitney Harima - unwilling to take in a detective to fill Crystal's vacant chair, the Las Vegas Police Department turns to rising poker star - Felix Herrera - to be their inside man.

The only problem is, Felix and the lead detective can't work together to save their lives.

-

Basically I just want a straight-laced detective trying to solve the murder of a celebrity with the help of some chaotic friend of a man.

My rules are pretty basic: don't be an asshole, be somewhat active (replying once every 1-3 days is good), have good grammar, swearing is fine, and I have the right to turn you down if I don't like your writing style.

I will be playing Felix, you'll be playing the detective. I also don't want templates with this, but if you want this to blossom into romance, you're character has to at least be attracted to men. (Felix is a raging bisexual, okay? a;slkdfja;sl)

Felix is right in the middle of a game when he gets the phone call. Huffing heavily through his nose, he sets his hand face-down on the round table and answers the call. The other players and the dealer send him odd looks but Felix is unfazed. He already knows he's won all the money in their pockets. "Thiiiiis is Felix!" He greets, making his voice extra loud and irritable on purpose. "Oh. Uh-huh. Okay? Me? Are you sure? Is this about the- no?" The dealer blinks absently at the man across the table. In the low light of the basement, the bags under her eyes are more pronounced, her fingers red from shuffling cards the past few hours.

With a lazy nod, Felix hangs up the phone and groans, smacking his head against the table. The dim lime colored light above makes his dark brown curls look an off-green.

"Mr. Herrera-" The dealer tries.

"Upbupbup!" Felix exclaims, waving his hand wildly to silence her. "Let's just wrap this up. I have places to be." The game continues, but ends swiftly after that, Felix exiting the club and into the afternoon with pockets full of cash and stolen watches.

-

Normally, Felix never would've agreed to cooperate with the police.

But when they have a record of all the petty crimes he's committed since his days in Catholic School (he's long since been excommunicated from the church) and they're going to clear his name if he helps solve this case, he's willing to fold. Heh, fold- Ironic, considering he was just offered to fill a very important spot in a very exclusive Harima's Poker Club. But until he starts playing in two days, he occupies himself by lounging incorrectly on an uncomfortable wooden chair in a Detective's office. He's busy trying to clasp all six of the stolen watches on his dark tan wrist, golden brown eyes narrowed in concentration with his tongue poking through his thick lips.

The door opens and in comes the detective. Felix makes direct eye contact, bites his bottom lip, and squints his eyes. "Wassup, sexy?" He greets.

How the hell did he end up here? Damian had kept asking himself that question for the last few days. Ever since he got the phone call to rush over to Caesar's Palace, he has been wondering as to what the hell is going on. One moment he was off work, playing with the kids to be standing in one of the suites in front of the dead body of Crystal Valentine in the matter of minutes. He couldn't even describe what had happened in the moments after that. He could not even begin to describe the frustration of trying to convince Mister Harima letting him into the club or the press asking him questions or his answering to his kids why they have to go to grandma's house at two in the morning. When was the last time he peacefully slept? When did he last eat a full dinner? When was the last time his phone didn't go off in five minutes?

"Mae! Come on, are listening to me?" He heard Chief Alfaro ask. Damian was standing up against the wall, drinking a fruit punch Capri Sun. His eyes were fixated on the ground till Alfaro's change in pitch had startled him. Staring back at the chief, he nodded before bowing his head in apology.

The chief sighed then turned to look into Damian's office. There was some sort of rising to fame poker star named Felix Herrera sitting in there. Damian hadn't talked to him at all, it was Chief Alfaro who set this up after being told that Harima wouldn't let him in. Alfaro glanced back then patted Damian on the shoulder; he could feel the detective tensing up at the physical interaction. He let go then said, "Hey, you'll do fine. I know you'll stick to the plan. Just go in there and do what you do, okay?"

Damian just nodded again in response. Lowering the Capri Sun away from his mouth, he gave a small salute. By the time he walked across and opened the door, Alfaro left. No matter what training he took, he could not prepare himself for what he heard. He stopped at the door, staring at Mister Herrera for a second. With his lips turned down, he exhaled while throwing the empty Capri Sun into the trash bin.

"Please, just call me Detective Mae, Mister Herrera," He said, holding his hand out.

Felix narrows his eyes further and brings a hand up to stroke his chin. His sisters would tell him to grow up. Felix would tell them he would grow up when he's dead. He's twenty-nine, he only has so much longer to live out his best life before familial arthritis would take him down. "Mae, hmm?" Felix scrambles around, nearly falling out of the chair he was so precariously lounging in, and stands to his full height of exactly six feet. His height always irritated him. It's too clean, too even for his spontaneous taste.

He bends over at his waist, animatedly cocking his head to the side to closely examine the detective's outstretched hand. Deciding that he wouldn't die if he touched it, Felix swoops back up to his full height, seizing the other's hand in his own grip and violently shaking it. "Pleased to meetcha, Mae!" Felix beams, his sparkling showman's grin clearly his best feature. "And please, just call me Felix. Or Mr. Lucky if you prefer that." He wiggles his thin dark eyebrows, still maintaining uncomfortable eye contact with the other man. Felix finally breaks the handshake and wipes his hand on the side of his dark brown slacks. "I was told I'm supposed to help ya' with a case in return for my pardon?"

Staring back at the man, he arched a brow. "Yea," He reluctantly responded, following with a long sigh. Well, he only did for a second before jumping, preparing to catch the guy falling off of the chair. His heart nearly jumped at the sight of it before seeing Mister Herrera standing in front of him. This kind of behavior is quite something. It already is exhausting for him even to just witness it in a matter of seconds. What the hell is even going on?

Damian nearly jumped at the feeling of his hand being grabbed and shaken so violently. This is far more energetic than his kids doing it. He regrets holding his hand out and he most certainly regrets not just walking over and sitting down at his desk. Dumbfounded, completely utterly dumbfounded. He swallowed while adjusting his collar. Turning his head a little, he attempted to a fake smile while nodding back. Thankfully the handshake was broken; it couldn't have come any sooner.

Shortly afterwards, he trudged over to his desk. "Mi-chin saeggi," He mumbled to himself while sitting down. His desk was probably the neatest out of every detective in the entire state of Nevada. A laptop in the middle, file containers on his left, picture frames of his kids on the right next to a desk plant; everything was in its correct spot. Sadly, he looked over at Mister Herrera then gave a nod. "Yes, that is the plan. You are more so acting as a middle man for me, but there's a lot you have to do." With his elbows on the desk, he clasped his hands together, creating a steeple. His right index and middle finger played with the wedding band on his left ring finger. "I know Chief Alfaro gave you a short delineation the other day, but before we get into anything, do you have any questions for me?"

Joder, this guy is uptight. Felix raises an eyebrow questionably at the foreign phrase but decides not to comment on it. He knows first hand how irritating it can be for someone to translate a simple phrase from a language to another. Growing up in a primarily Spanish speaking household and living in a conservative English-speaking town in the middle of Texas was not something Felix liked to remember.

The desk in front of him is unreasonably tidy. Felix wants to take the small pencil jar and empty the utensils all over the desk, maybe spread a few files around and knock a picture frame to the ground. He doubts Mae would appreciate that. "Questions?" Felix points to himself as he plops back down in the chair, one of the stolen watches slipping off his thin wrist and onto the tile below. Felix stares blankly at the fallen watch for a few moments and then brings his attention back up to the detective. "How long will I be doing this? Will I get payed? Am I gonna have a wicked earpiece in my ear while I'm playing poker with you guys all talkin' to me James Bond style?" Felix smirks and shoots finger guns haphazardly around the room.

Beneath his slightly-tattered tan trench coat, something weasels around. Well-versed in hiding all his emotions, Felix shows no recognition as a long furry object wiggles out of the coat and onto the floor. "And also, I see you're a married man!" Felix's nose scrunches with glee as he points to Mae's ring. "Who's the lucky woman?" He purses his lips and makes his eyes unbelievably wide, resting his elbows on the detective's desk with his chin in his hands, long fingers cupping his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes his companion leap into the trash bin.

Raising his eyebrows, he nodded in response. His attention fixated on the clink sound of something hitting the floor. Leaning over, it was just a watch, though Damian could not help but wonder why the guy just let it fall to the floor. More importantly, he wondered why he didn't pick it up. Should he even bother asking for him to do so? No, somehow he is picking up on the fact that he probably won't do much of what he asks. For the sake of the investigation, it worries him. Screw his neat and tidy manner, but he does have bigger things to worry about at the moment.

Damian stopped playing the ring then reclined back into the chair. He made it turn side to side for a moment before sitting back up, pulling it closer to the desk. "As long as needed. I am carrying out an investigation and I won't close it till I get the murderer in prison. When I worked as an FBI agent, I had to do something like this for a year and a half, but I'm sure you'll do fine." For a moment, he stopped to think of answers for the other questions. And to also grimace at Herrera making finger guns. He's pretty sure in of the Bond movies a guy messes up cause he kept putting his finger up to the earpiece. Damian rolled his eyes. "Anyways….Once we get this started, you will get paid every other week like a normal job. And no, guessing off of what I'm seeing, an earpiece is going to ruin the both of us. Perhaps a watch with a recorder will do, but I want you to go in for the first game then we'll go from there."

He looked down at his ring then he looked down at the photo of his family; it's just him and the twins in it. Not to mention the photo was taken a few months ago. A sinking feeling hit his chest, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, he decided to focus on the guy in front of him or, whatever was making his trash bin rustle. Leaning over a little, he tried to look down into it then glanced back at Mister Herrera. "Excuse me, but what is in there?" He gestured to the trash bin. "Why is it in there?"

Felix's nose scrunches irritably when Mae says that there will be no James Bond earpieces. Welp, Adult Felix just throws another one of Kid Felix's dreams in the flaming bin. But then Mae mentions watches and - momentarily forgetting that he stole them - Felix rolls up the sleeve to his tan trench coat to showcase his arm of expensive watches. "Watches, I can do." An impish smirk crawls across his face as rolls his wrist around.

He raises an eyebrow when Mae doesn't answer the question about his family. He opens his mouth to press but then Mae quickly changes the subject by pointing to the corner of the room.

Felix does a double take, feigning shock when a narrow and furry face pokes his head out of the trash can. "Jackpooooooooot!" Felix mockingly lectures as the ferret knocks over the garbage bin, spilling out of it with the shiny empty Capri Sun pouch in its mouth. "Jackpot, you little bastard, you aren't supposed to go into people's trash cans!" Felix stands up, taking a few large overexaggerated steps to where the ferret is rolling around in garbage. The man swoops up the animal, cradling its long, slender body in his arms. Felix smiles sheepishly - even though it feels false - and proudly showcases the rodent to Mae. "This is Jackpot, my emotional support ferret. He likes to steal shiny things."

"And those are your watches, right?" He asked. In all honesty, he should have expected something like this, but for some reason, he did not. Funny now that Damian thinks about it, he even read Herrera's history last night too. Now he just feels stupid for asking the question. Oh well, c'est la vie. C'est la vie as they always say. Going to back to playing with the wedding band, he tried taking a deep breath. Well that is until he sees the thing pop out from the trash.

An emotional support rat. That has got to be one of the most unbelievable things he has ever seen in his entire life. What kind of lunatic even brings such a thing into a detective's office? Why? The guy is probably going to get himself killed during the mission because of it. Not to mention the mess it's making and the sole fact that Herrera is not going to do anything about it. Damian pinched the bridge of his nose; he's going to need a lot more Capri Suns. Maybe even more than Capri Suns.

He would rather have it be a little chihuahua. Anything but a rodent. How does a guy walk around Las Vegas with a freaking rodent in their coat? He wasn't even sure if all the stress he's experiencing is from the investigation, Herrera, the mess, or the rodent. Would he get yelled at by Alfaro for stepping outside for just a moment? No, he really shouldn't. It would be very unprofessional and go against his reputation. "Well could you please just clean up the mess it made and never bring it with you again? It's very distracting and could be trouble for this investigation, Mister Herrera."

Felix's face falls into an excessive pout when Mae showed nothing but irritation and disinterest over Jackpot. Jackpot his little ferret. His best friend, his brother, his son, his little guy. From the looks of him, Felix knows that this whole detective endeavor is going to be rough. He pushes the trash bin back up with the toe of his scuffed loafer and sighs heavily through his nose.

"Wherever I go, Jackpot goes with me," Felix firmly states, tucking the weasel under his armpit between the off-white fabric of his button up. "And that is non-negotiable Mister-" Felix cranes his neck to get a look at Mae's nameplate. "- Mister Detective D. Mae." He sticks his chin up high and stares down at the other man over his nose. He's had plenty experience "negotiating" with stubborn adults growing up. His parents, his Abuela, his Tío Andreas and Tía Lana, the priests, his teachers, his older sisters Santana and Miranda - The list goes on and on and on, Mae quickly earning his spot somewhere in the median of all the names.

Felix doesn't bend down to pick up the trash. That would be debilitating. He isn't going to fold. Nope, no way. He already fixed the trash can and technically Jackpot should be the one to clean up the mess.

Damian could not resist the urge to scoff at the guy's words. Sure, and he brings the twins to every crime scene he goes to. It's unbelievable. For a second, he actually entertained the idea that he was dreaming. It must be a dream the way he going insane over this, but he sadly found out otherwise when he pressed down on his wrist. He scoffed again when Herrera had read his nameplate. "Oh, is that so?" He asked, sitting up in the chair. "I hope this is something that you discussed with Chief Alfaro, 'cause this is a serious investigation. It's not a game, I hope you know that."

There is still trash on the floor. Yes the trash bin was picked up, but the trash is still on the floor. And he is not going to pick it up, not until he can try to reason with this guy. He has worked for the FBI for five years, he's been a detective for the Las Vegas Police Department for six years, and he has been a father for four years and counting. If he cannot get his cleaned up in a matter of minutes, then he does not know what else to do.

Curling his fingers into his palms, he took a very slow inhale then exhale. Quickly, he got up out of his chair then walked over to Herrera. Damian rolled his shoulders as he looked at the guy and his…..pet. He is not going to explode over a mess. Not right now, and especially in front of a guy like Herrera in his office. "Come on Herrera, it's just some Capri Suns. It's not a big deal. You will be doing things that you don't want to do for this investigation, but it'll be worth it, yes? Just clean it up and sit down with that thing of yours. Alright?"

"Jackpot is my serious emotional support animal," Felix states again, slightly stomping his foot against the tile. His hand rummages around his deep trench coat pocket, pulling a white card signed in messy ink from it. Felix quickly waves it in the Detective's face before the card goes right back into his pocket. The detective looks stupid enough to figure the card's from a doctor, even though it's actually just a royalty card for the smoothie place on the Strip. Well, Felix technically has him some ADHD and dyslexia, but the dyslexia only helps him read people instead of words. It's one of the many reasons he's gotten to the place he is. Jackpot is another.

When Mae practically orders Felix to clean up the mess he didn't even make, Felix has to laugh. The noise sounds momentarily fake, but then Felix actually doubles over with giggles, dropping Jackpot onto the ground. "Please, if anybody should clean that mess, it should be Jackpot." He points to the ferret - who is currently rolling around in said trash. An impish grin stretches across Felix's face. He knows Mae is close to snapping. The tense shoulders, the hardly concealed eye rolls- please! To an expert people reader like Felix, Mae is practically a picture book.

Growing up in a harsh household full of immigrants and first-generation Americans, Felix's life was always tough. He learned to smile and make the best of it, poking fun at whoever his golden brown eyes could land on. It doesn't lighten the mood in the room, but it sure as hell makes Felix feel better. Plus, watching people fall apart under his taunts give him insight to who they really are. It's only a matter of time before the detective loses his cool and Felix can see the real man behind that mask he so poorly puts on.

"Sure. And I have an emotional support unicorn named Quincey Morris." Damian looked off to the side as he scoffed. His hands were set on his hips. A typical dad posture his friends like to jokingly call it. The moment he glanced back at Herrera, he stepped back when the card was waved. He tired to look at it, but it was pointless. It could be anything really, more importantantly, it was just a way to get him even more ticked off. He knows it. Oh how he knows.

The thing is that know he has got himself to calm down. In the past, it hasn't been that hard for him. Typically he just backtracks everything going on then either steps out for a minute or finds another way to relax, but he really cannot do that right now. Right now, he should be having a casual meeting with a poker star who will be working with him as an undercover.

Now said poker star is pointing at his crazy furry noodle who is still making a mess in Damian's office. All the stress in the world is just piling up on his shoulders now; that's what it feels like. Really he could try whatever parenting techniques he usually uses on the twins, but this is far beyond anything he could imagine the twins doing. Besides, he's pretty sure the guy is around three years younger than him, parenting techniques aren't going to work. Unless…

"Alright, you win. Have it your way, Mister Herrera." He held his hands up as surrender then shrugged. Damian trudged over to pick up the trash bin then with it, he scooped up the trash. He may or may not have accidentally got the rodent too, but he also may or may not have purposefully pretended like he didn't know. "You know, after doing a lot of dirty work for the last eleven years…." He said while opening the door. Setting it down, he closed the door then pulled out a key. "I like to keep this office clean. I don't like messing with the feng shui in here. You know?"

Taking a key from his jacket pocket, he locked the door then closed the shutters. "Alright. Do you have any other questions or should we get down to business?"

Felix loudly snorts at Mae's exhausted sarcasm. Jackpot weasels around on the ground, diving into a small pile of trash. His wiry gray fur practically blends in among the balled up pieces of paper. Felix's grin only deepens as he feels Mae get closer and closer and closer to snapping, his heart beats - waiting excitedly for the other foot to drop. Waiting for the yelling and insight to who Mae really, really is. The opportunity is perfect. Mae can't drop Felix. Mae needs Felix for this case. Felix doesn't need Mae. Not really. He's lived eleven years since his first offense and there's been nearly no retaliation. Any fine presented he pays off with his earnings, any disappointed call from a family member is solved with a push of the block button, any policemen knocking on his door is ended quickly with an "I plead the 5th" and a text to his lawyer. His lawyer, Paisley Abbas, the best lawyer in the state of Nevada, is always happy to hear from Felix.

But then Mae calms down. Felix's heart stops.

The detective scoops his emotional support ferret into the trash can. Felix can't think of a snarky response. The detective walks behind him to lock the door. Felix can't bring himself to make a suggestive comment. His golden brown eyes stare a hole in the closed blinds to the window across the room. His face still remains somewhat upbeat. Long conditioning of maintaining his cocky poker face keep it stuck on his face like a mask. Behind the mask Felix's mind races.

He read Mae incorrectly. In his twenty-nine years of living, Felix had never once been wrong about predicting a person. So how- How did he?

Mae's voice snaps Felix away from his internal conflict, his smile flickers but then returns. "Business?" He wiggles his eyebrows, a short distraction to take away from the turmoil in his mind. "Whaddya need me to do, Mister Detective D. Mae?" In a last ditch effort to get Mae back to his irritated and so close to letting loose state, Felix enunciate every syllable of the detective's name.

Calm. What the hell is that? Damian does not really know; nope, not really. Whatever Mister Herrera is seeing in front of him and interpreting is not really what Damian is right now. It's all superficial, seeming. A mask. Will this affect him later on? Oh most definitely, but later on, he has a better chance of dealing with it alone. Alone the better. When alone, he can control himself so he doesn't even have to deal with anger or stress or anything. It's perfect.

But Mister Herrera right now is priceless. Absolute silence for a couple moments. Wide eyes that just stared back at him. Sure, there maybe be not much shock in the poker player's face, but the silence, that's how he knows he won this round. And oh boy, how that makes him feel good. The eyes too. He knows that the poker player is trying to assess what had happened, though he is not sure if the poker player will discover anything further. And yet, for now, he wins.

Whatever expression he had on his face dropped in seconds to nothing the moment Herrera said his name. At least the poker player doesn't really know his first name yet. He can already hear 'Damian' slipping off of the guy's tongue. He can already see it happening.

Shutting his eyes for a second or two, he took a deep breath. Running his fingers through his hair, he swallowed while making his way back over to his desk. With another key, he unlocked a drawer then pulled out a notebook. If it wasn't expected already, it is very neat. Everything in it is organized and each page has a nice, understandable layout.

"Well Mister Felix Herrera….", He said slowly, following a sigh. "I need you to help me catch a murderer who thinks they can get away with it. You will attend each and every game this poker club has in order to get clues as to who it is. Watching for body mannerisms, listen to every word someone says, befriend them so you could investigate further outside of the games…..There's a lot I need you to do, but rest assured, I will go through everything and explain it all as needed."

His eyes scanned his notes briefly. "Also I will be within a mile radius of the building the club is at, so I can be within reach for you and to listen in on what's going on. State law prohibits recording conversations without consent of others, so you must be listening and you must telling me everything. Even if another member keeps looking at their phone, I need to know. Okay?"

(sorry for the wait!! i lose motivation on the weekends a;dkjfa;slkdf)

Felix thinks he's good at hiding what's going through his mind. Hell, he'd made a living off of it. Racking in thousands and thousands every weekend with a sly smile and an unwavering glint in those golden brown eyes of his. He knows he's good at it. Which is why it pisses him off when he notices how Mae had seen right through to him. Oh, if only he could fill the silence with whatever tangent his brain would scrounge up this time.

Still really fucking irritated but hiding it, Felix plops down in the uncomfortable chair and rubs his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road, hot stuff."

The second Mae starts talking, Felix zones out. His eyes remain right on Mae's forehead, nodding along to what he's saying every now and then. All it sounds like to Felix is the near constant whah whah whah of the Charlie Brown teacher. Really, Felix is trying to figure out what the the hell the D. could stand for. The gutter in his mind immediately offers forward "Dick" and it takes all of Felix's will not to burst out laughing on the spot. Dave, Dillian, Devin… Dexter? Ew- no, please not Dexter. Felix leans back in his chair. Entwining his fingers in his lap, Felix kicks up a scuffed loafer onto Mae's desk.

The detective skims his notes and Felix thinks that he's done enough brainstorming on what his name could possibly be and tunes right back in. He has a short list in his mind and he's going to try them out, Poker Style.

"So, you want me-" He makes sure to subtly emphasize the sound. "To do what I always do, huh man?" Throughout the short sentence and judging Mae's near invisible giveaways, Felix knows exactly what the D in his name stands for. "Noting people's ever mannerisms and storing them away in my mind is something I do every single second of my life, Mr. Damian Mae." Just like his abuela always said, the troublesome smile on Felix's face could only rival the devil's.

(Don't worry! I'm glad you responded)

Hot stuff. Damian just had to roll his eyes at that. If he had a dollar for everytime someone's called him that, he would have enough for a fancy dinner; he probably would have as much as what Herrera makes in a single game. He just had to scoff at it. Scoffing and shaking his head is all he can do.

He wonders if the guy was even paying attention to anything he was saying. Might as well just have said everything in Korean or Spanish and he would've gotten the same results. Maybe he should try that later. Although, something must be on Herrera's mind; that must be a reason why the guy's eyes just glazed over as he talked.

His eyes widened as he stood back, watching as Herrera propped his one foot up. Damian clenched his jaw as he used his notebook to get the man's foot off the desk. Great, now he has to wipe the desk again, and he just did that two days ago too. Breathe. Slowly, he inhaled, and then exhaled. Breathe.

"It's not what you normally do. You are not taking in details to intimidate players to get money. You are taking in details to find evidence, to find suspects in order to solve a murder and put the victim's family at ease. You have to work with me," He added.

Damian was about to go on, but he had stopped after hearing what Herrera last said. In the corner of his eye, he glanced over at the nameplate. A sigh left him. Oddly right on the money. Sure, it's not a big deal that Herrera knows his first name. It's just that, he can only imagine all the things he'll say while addressing him by his first name. Having it seethe or slyly roll of his tongue. "Please only refer to me as Detective Mae or just Mae, okay? We are working together. We are not close, we are not on a first name basis. Got it?"

The way Mae's nostrils flare when Felix kicks his foot on the desk only widens the smile on Felix's face. He allows his foot to drop back to the floor noisily, not bothering to correct his slumped and awkward posture. It'll look like he's trying to impress Mae, and god forbid that happen. If anything, Mae is just a temporary asset. Work with him long enough to clear his record, fuck around with the detective as often as possible, win some money, and go home. Oh yeah, and solve a murder too.

Felix had never met Crystal Valentine. Rumor has it she's a coldhearted bitch that poisoned a man after he discovered her tell during a high stakes round. Felix is happy he never met her, grateful her chair emptied. One of his… buddies at the table explained to Felix that he would've loved to be the one who end the woman's life. Unfortunately for Felix, his buddy had a solid alibi and therefore wasn't worth bringing up to the police.

"Work with you?" Felix raises an eyebrow, a short laugh falling from his lips. "Whaddya think I'm doing, Damian?" He snorts, shifting around in his chair to lean forward. "If I wasn't gonna work with ya' I would've already been out the door and winning hundreds off of amateur games. And I'm not one to use formalities so I really don't know what you were expecting." He flashes a wide grin, the glint in his eyes bordering on malevolent.

"I also think you underestimate me," Felix's tone grows cold. "Your police chief is on the ropes with his wife. There's divorce being threatened and he's trying to keep it all together for his kid, who's in high school, and needs the stability because of their hardcore anxiety. I also know that your secretary has been crushing on the detective next door. He's married, but not committed." Felix adjusts his position yet again. The smile drops. "Wanna know what else I know?"

"I know you have two kids, twins, toddlers; a dead wife; and a mother you're close to. You want this case to be over with as soon as possible because you're guilty you keep leaving your kids at your mother's house and you want to be there for them. You still haven't gotten over your wife's death and it's showing, Damian. This case won't be a problem for me."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shook his head with a little shrug. Looks like his words did not translate well, although he barely has any expectations now. If this is what he has to go through in order to solve this case, then, he really is not sure if he can take it. This isn't even like any FBI work, let alone anything he's done as a detective for the Las Vegas Police Department. Damian just stared back at Herrera, at his malignant smile.

Does he underestimate this guy? Yes, yes he does. For living in Las Vegas for the last six or so years, he has learned that his expectations of every and anything should be as fluid as water. While listening to Herrera, he bit the inside of the corners of his lips. His head slightly turned to left as he squinted his eyes. Sure, he knows all these things he's being told, but he does not know how to take the fact that the poker player knows this stuff too. "What?" He said, barely audible.

Breathe. Something had hit him in the gut hearing these things about himself. A sour taste rose in his mouth. The familiar melancholic feeling hung in his heart. Twins, dead wife, guilt, grief…. Between the shiver running own his spine and the feeling of his blood boiling, he was not sure what he felt. Was he wearing a target and Herrera just happened to have a good shot? Yeah sure, there body mannerisms and movements that can reveal to another how a person feels or what they're thinking, but you cannot pick up such integrate details by the way someone clenches their jaw. How the hell can someone he just met minutes ago be able to pick apart certain things from him?

"Mother in law," He corrected. "I do not even speak to my mother; she lives in Boston with Doctor Mae anyways. Don't bother learning anything about me, because it all leads to where I am now. I don't like talking about my Achilles's heel to anyone." Whether or not this whole bit is to prove that Herrera knows his shit or to get back at him, Damian is on the fence about it. He's too tired right now to pick every single detail apart. Breathe.

Trudging over to his chair, he sat down. With his back up against the chair, he rested his chin on his palm. "You shouldn't have been wasting all this time in Las Vegas. If you weren't so full of it, you would've made a great FBI agent, but I am assuming that you feel like you're deteriorating in this detective's office right now."

A deep thrum of satisfaction rolls in Felix's chest. The way Mae stiffens, his eyes going wide and narrowing all at once, the panicked mannerisms that the ordinary man would've never had the knack to notice. The detective hasn't snapped - like Felix was expecting him to do early on with his provoking - but the deep jabs at his personal life are plenty enough for Felix to gauge.

"My mistake," Felix hums when Mae corrects him. He sits back in his chair, titling his head to the side and staring the other man down with a heavy honey-gold stare. The intensity previously found on Felix's face now floats in the air. A sly smirk rests naturally on Felix's tanned face. Abuela's words ring clear in his ears. "Hijo del diablo! Hijo del diablo!" He banishes the old bat from his mind and entwines his fingers on his lap. An eyebrow quirks upon hearing "Achilles' Heel" and Felix shelves that particular sentence in his mind for a later date.

"Wasting all of my time?" Felix snorts, rolling his eyes to the sky. "Please, I'd much rather be making the big bucks gambling with low lives than be holed up in a stuffy, poorly-decorated office all day!" He gestures haphazardly around him - the stone tile, the off-white walls, the dark brown blinds shut over the small window. "Not all of us are as dull and boring as you Damian. I don't have the patience for mundane tasks like paperwork and protocol-" He fake gags to enunciate is point. Upon Mae's disappointed but unsurprised reaction, Felix bursts into a long series of giggles.

"I'll be better detective than any of you. I just need to know when I start and when I'll get my epic James Bond earpiece."

Damian never really lasted this long without having some sort of outburst. Yes he was usually not the head investigator of a murder and having to deal with a newfound pain in the ass, but he normally gave up and just let his frustration out. No, he didn't let it out. It did on its own. He cannot let Herrera figure that out. Will he? Perhaps, though would rather not have that happen. He can do it. He can make it. Well, hopefully. Even he does not have faith in that.

Making the big bucks gambling with low lives, sounds awfully like a waste of time to him. Then again, he is living in a city that was built on those sort of things, so maybe he is wasting time himself. How hypocritical. His eyes took a glance around the room, leaving him to just shrug off the guy's words. His office is nice. It's feels closed off from the rest of the world. Besides, it's good for work, and that's the point of it.

Again, the usual Damian Mae eye roll, followed with the head shake and the question of why he even bothers. What's with this guy and earpieces and James Bond? It had to be the third time he has heard those two things from Herrera. This is just the Las Vegas Police Department, not the MI6. Geez, this guy really has some childlike fascination with fictional secret agents.

"Doesn't someone in Casino Royale get caught cause they kept doing this," He asked while bringing his index and middle finger up to his ear, lightly pressing on it. Carefully, he sat his notebook down beside the laptop. Dragging his feet, he stood behind his desk. "You start the day your first game starts which is….", he stops to tap on his smartwatch, "not that far from this very moment."