forum las vegas lights // oxo // closed

Started January 22, 2022 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

Damian cannot see into the future, but he knows himself, and he wants to avoid any potential danger that can as soon as possible. It's funny how he used to drink occasionally, but recently, he cannot even bring himself to taking three shots of soju or anything. The irony of him living in Las Vegas.

He can't really leave his things in the parking lot. Now that Dane knows about him, he is going proceed everything with more caution. Part of which is the driving situation. "How about you follow me home, I put my bag somewhere safe, and we go over together? It probably will be easier since one of us might get drunk, easily or not…."

Felix smirks, tilting his head to the side and scrunching his nose as he steps out of the car. He stretches his arms way above his head and huffs through his nose. The sun beats down on the back of his head, his trench coat not really the most practical clothing choice in the world, but Felix knows he looks good in it and he wouldn't trade it for anything else. The trench coat, button up, slacks and loafer combo are all apart of his charm. That plus his stolen watches and accessory weasel. Felix pokes at his coat. Jackpot wiggles his head out of the inside pocket, his beady eyes gleaming with the Homophobia Glare.

"Alright then." He slides his hands into the external pockets of his coat and turns on his heel. His off-gold sedan waits for him a few parking spots away. "I'll see you there." Felix twirls the keys to his car in hand before unlocking the drivers seat. Jackpot gets thrown into the passenger seat and the engine gets started up.

The moment he was by himself in the car, he shook his head. All the things that have just occurred are mindbaffling to him. What's worse is that he knows that what may happen can be as equally, if not more, mindbaffling. "I am going to regret this," He mumbled to himself while turning the key in the ignition. "I am going to absolutely regret this."

Damian did his best to go home as quickly and lawfully as possible. Of course there was a traffic jam, but he ended up taking a short cut that eventually led him home. He doesn't waste any time parking the car or gathering up all his things and hiding it in his closet. Then, out of fear of ruining a perfect try good white shirt, he changed into a black long sleeve dress shirt and went back outside. He is anxious, but he made it outside in less than fifteen minutes so, everything should be good though. Right?

Felix had gotten lost on the way there, missing Mae as he swerved to hit some sort of shortcut. Nevertheless, Felix dug through his phone (while at a stoplight, mind you. He values his face too much to risk it in a car accident) and found the address from their texts a week prior. The house - unsurprisingly - is exactly the way Felix left it a week ago. He parks next to the curb and marginally increases the volume to his favorite ABBA song playing on the radio station.

Mae exits - wearing a dress shirt. "Oho," Felix cackles to himself, unlocking the door to the passenger seat. "Jackpot, get out." He reaches over to the ferret and carelessly tosses him into the back seat. "Welcome to your chariot, sire," Felix greets with an unnecessary (but it's actually very necessary to Felix) amount of bravado.

Damian rolled his eyes. He could just turn around, walk back up the steps, and give the finger before disappearing inside. He could, and boy was he tempted to. At least Herrera is playing ABBA, but his ears already are ringing from the high volume. "What am I doing? I can't believe I'm doing this cause I felt bad for him," He mumbled while dragging his feet over.

"Ahh thank you, you are too kind." He opened the door and ducked his head as he got in. After he put on the seat belt, he looked over his shoulder at Jackpot then back at Herrera. "I think everyone is accounted for, darling. Let's go."

Felix can't help the vicious smirk that explodes on his face at the nickname. Ah, the joys of being a bad influence. He pulls the car away from the curb, checking his mirrors and sparing a quick glance over his shoulder at Jackpot. The weasel is staring a hole into the back of the passenger seat. "Jackpot's not happy you took his spot," Felix muses with a light laugh. He turns the corner that marks fifteen minutes to the bar. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

Right. The reason they're even in this situation arrives in an ugly fax machine in the lobby of Felix's brain office. The paper looks like a cruddy billboard to some injury lawyer. "Notepad and pen are in the jockey box-" He gestures to the glove compartment. "Ready?" He asks, shooting a brief look in Mae's direction.

Damian looked back at the furry noddle. The sight of it's mischief makes him feel lucky that all his kids want is a beta fish. His brow quirked as he looked at Herrera. He shook his head then asked, "Didn't you chuck him back there anyhow? He's probably not happy because of that too."

Not wasting anytime, he opens up the glove compartment and finds the notepad and pen. The detective is mildly impressed at the fact Hererra carries a notepad and pen in his car. He would've been fine using his phone, although he is suspicious, but he clicked the pen. Looking back at Herrera, he gave a nod, "Ready whenever you are."

"Please, I throw Jackpot all the time." Felix glances at the ferret through the rearview mirror. "He's durable." Felix turns down the radio, the song something newer that Felix had never heard before. It didn't spike his interest, too slow and lovey-dovey for his usual upbeat taste. "And let's see…"

Felix focuses hard on the road for a brief moment before reaching into the back of his mind. The tiny mini-Felixes working in his brain hand him various stacks of papers from the file cabinet labelled "POKER CLUB."

"Clyde. She's seat number five. She radiates nervous energy, like she's scared of something. It started before the match and continued afterwards, even after she won a game. So I bet it isn't the poker game that's making her nervous. She kept looking at my seat. I'm assuming it's because she misses Valentine." Felix takes a left turn. "Dane. He doesn't want to be there. I saw it in his eyes. The last thing he wants is to be gambling, which makes me question if Harima lets any of these elite players ever leave." A huff through his nose. "Dane also has birds. Don't know if that's relevant but it's neat." A left turn. A stop at a red light. "Blake - lady with the undercut - and Rivers are at least acquaintanced with each other. After Rivers went into the room semi-drunk and semi-hungover, Blake lectured them about it. 'We've talked about this.' Blake told Rivers." Felix drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "The overall mood at the table was… anxious almost. Not about money or the cards or the dealer or anything, but… Like they thought they were going to be next or something."

The whole time he never looked up from the notepad. His muscles tensed as he pressed the tip of the pen against paper. He wrote abbreviations down in order to get to more vital points, which he would elaborate on later. Every now and then, his lips pursed as he repeated phrases Herrera said.

They were going to be next…. Damian flipped to a new page, then wrote down everyone's names from Harima to Herrera and at the very bottom, he wrote Miss Valentine's. He drew an arrow from Clyde down to Valentine. Sometimes the things he would draw and write don't make sense, but it got his thoughts going.

"There's six of you, not including Blake…." He mumbled to himself while putting the pen up to his bottom lip. The word "anxious" kept prancing around his mind. There isn't a lot of situations where a group of people are anxious over something. They know, or at least, they have their suspicions. There's something more to the group, especially if Clyde isn't worrying about the game. Damian shook his head, "Sounds almost like a Russian roulette situation….."

Downtown Vegas slowly fades away, Felix taking the two of them away from the strip via backstreets and into the more relaxed, rural area of Vegas. Condos housing retired folks and semi-sketchy drug stores line the street. A few chain malls with massive parking lots occupy the desert space. Felix turns down another backstreet.

Felix nods. "If Harima isn't letting anybody bow out of this whole elite poker club situation, and if he only has six seats at all times… Makes me wonder…" He trails off, huffing through his nose. "Could a suspect possibly somebody trying to get into Harima's club?" Jackpot crawls onto the center console, sniffing at Mae's arm. "It's exclusive invite-only, hell, I don't even know how I managed to secure a spot. The winnings are the highest I've ever seen though, so I wouldn't rule it out just yet."

Herrera's idea seems probable. Damain scribbled that down two spaces below everyone's names. His eyes scanned everyone's names, thinking if anyone had any afflictions with any other players who might want to get in. How else would anyone know about Harima's club?

He looked down at Jackpot, scratching the little noodle's head. "In a way it makes sense, but removing Valentine wouldn't give them the guarantee of a seat," He assumed, "But if it's someone trying to get in, I still think it's someone who has to know Valentine in particular because why pick her? And they have knowledge about Harima and his rules…."

As he spoke, he tapped the pen against the paper. Damian tilted his head see all the names staring back at him. "One of them knows….I'm sure of it…"

Felix sighs, taking a moment to listen to the low-playing song on the radio. An old Queen song. One of his favorites but it's clearly not the time to belt the lyrics to Don't Stop Me Now. "Maybe. I don't know." Really, it takes quite the amount for Felix to admit that he actually doesn't know something instead of bullshitting his way through an explanation. He turns right onto a street that takes them into a slightly more populated area of rural Las Vegas.

There's a few storefronts lining both sides of the street, a decent amount of shoppers and pedestrians filing down the sidewalk. Killer Fern Botany, May's Cajun Cookin', O'Connell Shooting and Archery Range, Evangeline Tires and Mechanics, Donovan Law Firm. Felix pulls into the last parking lot on the edge of the strip. Concordia Bar and Grill. A fairly modern restaurant with wide windows and sleek wood and glass walls.

"Thinking about this too much won't do us any good," Felix states, pulling the keys from the ignition. "Time for a margarita."

Damain didn't write anything else the rest of the ride over. With a click of the pen, he put it back in the glove compartment. He kept the notepad on him though; eventually he will give it back, but for the time being, it's better to have it on him then to have it in the car and for such notes to go missing.

There just has to be something there for him. The suspect might be just arm's reach away if he can only just connect all the random puzzle pieces that is laid out in front of him. Someone outside of the club trying to get in, but they know about the club because they have, or had, ties with someone who is currently in.

The fact they had parked is something that took him a moment to realize. Once he did, he undid the seat belt then got out. After slipping the notepad into his pocket, he stretched his arms out. Damian let his arms drop to his sides. He looked at the sign of the place before shaking his head to himself.

Felix gestures to the building after getting out and locking the car. Jackpot and his keys stay in the side pocket of his coat. "Welcome, welcome, to my favorite place to eat. I know the owners. Hell, I even planned their wedding." He lightly elbows Mae and smirks. With that, he swaggers up to the front door and throws it open, stopping it with his foot and nodding his head towards the place. It already smells like cooking chicken, light alcohol, and other heavenly smells Felix associates with the place. "C'mon, darlin'."

The interior is just as sleek as the exterior with dark, clean wooden flooring, industrial light fixtures and a dark gray hostess stand right at the front. A teenager wearing a semi-neat uniform taps away at her phone, only perking up when the pair of footsteps approach. "Evening," Felix tips his head. "We'll just take bar seating." The bar is visible from the entrance, a wide display of wines, tap beers, bottles, and top-shelf liquors lining the shelves. There's no worker behind the counter, presumably residing in the kitchen behind the bar.

The teen opens her mouth to say something, but a quick "No." Fills the air. Out of the kitchen comes a short, platinum blonde woman with sharp, dark eyes and a very nice uniform. "Felix, I refuse to let you in my bar."

"Bianca, darling, is that any way to treat your best customer?" Felix bats his eyes at the woman. She rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Damian, doll, meet Bianca Wong-Garner-Hence. She's the co-owner of the place. I'm her favorite."

"You absolutely are not," Bianca retorts. "I can't have you scaring people off again."

"Bianca, there is nobody here. Plus, I got a guest. Is that any way you treat a paying customer?" Felix sticks his bottom lip out and pulls his biggest puppy eyes imaginable.

The owner only rolls her eyes once more. "Fine. One wrong move Herrera and you're out." She throws her hands into the air and retreats back to the kitchen.

"Sorry 'bout that," Felix says, even though he really isn't sorry in the slightest. Despite her prickly exterior, Bianca loves him. (At least that's what Felix told himself.) Hell, if she didn't then why did Felix get wedding planning privileges? "Anyways, that's Bianca. She's a hardass but we love her. Her wife is the bartender, A.K.A. one of my favorite people ever." Felix grabs Mae's arm and practically drags him to the bartop. The restaurant is fairly empty, only a family of four in one corner and two separate couples on the other side of the building. The dinner rush won't be for another hour or two.

When being lightly elbowed, his lips scrunched with judgment. He rolled his eyes. How anyone could trust Felix Herrera to plan something, let alone a wedding, is something beyond Damian's vast plains of his knowledge. Of course he is trusting him to relay information for a critical murder case, but that's his own trouble to contemplate. Hell, maybe he will have the chance to soon.

On the other hand, the place looks really nice. Even though he doesn't normally drink, he wouldn't mind spending a bit of time here after work or whenever he is taking a break. He stayed a couple steps behind Herrera, constantly gazing around out of curiosity.

Whatever look he had on while in his car with Herrera, he clearly doesn't have it now. At this moment, Damian does have his usual resting stone cold face, but he also feels like a kid being dragged to an event. Nevertheless, he did his best to wave at Bianca when being introduced.

He almost laughed at Bianca's swift retort. Holding his hand up to his mouth, he did his best to hide it before taking a deep breath. There wasn't enough time to process everything, especially when Herrera was dragging him over to the bar. Damian just let it happen as his feet practically glided on the floor.

"Ah, I see…." is all that he manages to say. The place seemed relatively quiet, even though it is obviously before rush hour. Actually he prefers going to restaurants when it's slightly more busy, it's just fascinating to him. He kept looking around at the place as they went over. Damian didn't bother to fight against Herrera's grip, he just accepted his fate.

The countertop of the bar is a sleek, black granite - polished to a near-reflective shine. There's a mirror behind the shelves of liquor and drafts, all of them glistening and dustless. I see Bianca still takes good care of the place. The barstools are a dark wood with leather seats and small silver details. Behind and to the left of the counter, a set of double doors lead to the bustling kitchen. Felix has never been allowed back there. He doesn't really blame Bianca for the ban.

"If you wanna eat you should get the jalapeno poppers." Felix leans on his elbows, eyes scanning the bar menu. "Or the caribou burger. The cod is good too." He flips it over, seeing what new beverages Bianca added to the menu since he had last been there. (It's been nearly a month, so there's nothing new.) "This place is weird. They got Mexican, Chinese, and after Bianca got married, they added a lot of Inuk-inspired dishes." He chews on the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking to the kitchen doors.

Some voices can be heard behind the swinging doors, both of which Felix recognizes. He smiles and perks up from his slouch. The doors push open and Bianca, accompanied by an orange-haired woman with tan skin, dark eyes, and a mangled scar down the left side of her smirking face, emerge. The newest woman is wearing a black button-up with similar black slacks. Underneath the shirt, there's powerful muscles that could throw Felix across a building. (She has thrown him through a window before, but that's a story for another time) Bianca looks exhausted, carefully explaining things to her wife. Felix can see his name form on her lips. Bianca's wife perks up at the mention of Felix, whirling around to make eye contact with the gambler.

"Felix!" She shouts, ditching her wife to slide across from him at the bartop. "My man!" She reaches across the counter, Felix returns the gesture. About 90 seconds and an overly-extreme handshake later, the woman reaches forward to ruffle his hair. "Damn, took you long enough." Her eyes meet Mae's. "Ooh- A date. I'm Shea Wong-Garner-Hence, co-owner of this fine establishment and Felix's best friend."

Damian kept adjusting how he sat on the barstool. He felt like awkward and gangly sitting up straight but also worse when bending his back to relax. Nevertheless, he was up straight and a bit stiff. Looking over at Herrera, he decided to copy him by leaning on his elbows. His eyes gravitated towards the menu.

"Inuit food in a bar? In Vegas?" He asked with perked brows. After five years of living here, he's still being constantly surprised. Well in recent terms, all of them are because of the oddity he's sitting next to. Damian glanced up, staring at the menu. His eyes scanned the whole thing over and over. He mumbled, "Nothing's as weird as you, Herrera."

His shoulders jumped. Keeping his chin parallel to the floor, he looked to see who was shouting Herrera's name. To be quite honest, Damian completely forgot about the concept of social interaction outside of home and work. It's more like he doesn't have it actually, yet that is besides the point. At least he's in a bar rather than the office or home, and that's all thanks to Herrera strangely enough.

When Shea introduced herself, more so as Herrera's best friend, he held back the urge to say sorry out of sarcasm. And he did his best to seem nice by putting on a little smile, although he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He just gave a simple wave and said, "Nice to meet you…….I'm Damian Mae…." Great, he has been practicing that introduction for a couple of seconds and he thinks he didn't mess it up.

"Damian Mae, pleasure to meet'cha," Shea says, a lopsided smile on her face and a boisterous voice to match her loud and proud energy. "Been a while since Felix has dropped by with a date. Who was that last guy you were with?" She raises her right eyebrow and shoots a glance in Felix's direction.

Felix purses his lips. "Drew?"

"Yeah, Drew." She snaps her fingers. "What happened to him?" She turns her back to the men, already grabbing two expensive-looking, thin-stemmed margarita glasses from the rack. The large glass bottles clink as she pulls them down from the top liquor shelf.

"He left for New York for some sort of non-profit?" Felix narrows his eyes as he tries to remember what his ex said when they broke up. "Anyways, I said I refused to leave Vegas. He said I have a gambling problem. I drove him to the airport. He left without saying goodbye. We haven't talked since." Shea slides an iced margarita over to him, the rim salted and the citrus alcohol smelling absolutely intoxicating. "Thanks, doll. But we're not here on a date." He takes a small sip. Fantastic, as always.

"Oh?" Shea's right eye widens. The left side of her face doesn't seem to move all that much. The jagged scar slicing from her left hairline to her jaw pulls at her skin. "If you're not dating and if I know all of Felix's friends, then who's he?" She tilts her head in Mae's direction with a playful yet curious stare.

"Nice to meet you too," He smiled, but the smile didn't last for long. Damian frowned. For whatever reason why, he has no clue. Regardless, he kept quiet. He was already on a mission to calm Herrera down and to make sure that he isn't overly stressed and down. Well, mission might actually be out of Damian being a decent human being and the fact that he is a bit worried for Herrera. Drew doesn't seem to be any worth of Herrera's concern.

He fixated his attention on Shea making drinks. Despite not really being a fan of alcohol, the glass of margarita looked good, he guesses. "Hm?" He hummed as he looked back at Herrera's best friend. Copying her, he tilted his head as well while also biting the inside of his cheek.

While he doesn't like to lie, much like others do, but he also still feels bad for Herrera. Damian wouldn't say that he pities him, mostly because pitying someone isn't good and he doesn't think that Herrera doesn't deserve that. Why is he thinking this? Obviously he has no idea. He also does not want to talk about his investigation; not only is it highly unprofessional, he would rather talk about other things.

"Well….we aren't dating, but this is our first date," Damian admitted, "He's just embarrassed to admit it because I am an absolute nerd and he was just really excited to show me this place."

The bartender listens to Mae's explanation as she finishes off his own drink. The glass clinks softly against the countertop as she sets it down in front of the detective. When he finishes his brief report on he and Felix's relationship, Shea's expression turns outright friend-esque. "Aw, Felix!" Her smile is nearly biting as she whips around to face her friend. "You wanted to show your date my restaurant?"

Felix snorts into his margarita, quickly finishing it off and sliding the empty glass to her. "Please, it's hardly your restaurant." He uses the back of his thumb to wipe his lip. "If anything it was your wife's wedding present to you." The sharkish expression doesn't waver from her face. "Plus, this place has good jalapeno poppers!" He shrugs, a meager defense.

Shea waves her hand. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, idiot." She swipes up Felix's glass, already knowing her friend wants another. "You know you love this place." She quickly fathoms another drink, this one more pinkish in color than its predecessor. "Speaking of which, do you actually want food, or are you here to drain my alcohol supply?" Shea glances between the two men at the bartop.

(Hey, I just wanted to let you know that it might take longer for me to reply because I have band camp and college. I'll try to respond as soon as I can.)

Damian looked down at the drink the same way his twins look at any bug that's in the bathroom. His eyes were lit with curiosity and fear. He wondered if he should start drinking it right away or if taking a small sip would work. He isn't the kind of guy to just down a whole thing of alcohol. It's been three years, he cannot even get the thought of drinking into his overwhelming mind.

In the corner of his eye, he glimpsed over at Herrera before looking up at Shea. Biting down on the corners of his lips, he did his best to keep any ounce of laughter down. His explanation worked. Not to be boasting or anything, but he does feel proud of himself.

He was ready to explain that he isn't really fond of alcohol and that he only came along because he was worried Herrera. On the other hand, Damian wants to eat to ignore his own troubles; also he probably will go back to his office after this, but he digresses. Gazing at the menu, he shrugged, "He kept telling me about all the food you guys serve here, but I am not sure what to pick. What do you think, darling?" Damian turned in his seat to face his "date" with a small yet somewhat sincere smile.

(yeah no worries my guy! i literally start school tomorrow so i understand aklsdf)

Felix spares a quick glance over to Mae, instantly indexing all of the detective's body language. Scared? He concludes, a small smirk playing at his lips as he licks the rim of his glass before taking a sip. A little alcohol won't kill ya', doll. The margarita - as always - is absolutely fantastic. Shea is the best person Felix could ever think of when it comes to mixology. And to think! She almost wasted her life away being an athlete, ugh. If Shea was put on this earth for one thing, it would be bartending. Even when they were barely twenty, she could always make something delightful out of stolen beer and week-old limes.

Shea opens her mouth to answer Mae's question before her jaw fully unhinges at the last word. Her dark eyes flick to Felix, whose nose is currently buried in his margarita class. Shea snorts, causing Felix to do the same and choke on the beverage.

"Holy shit," Felix mutters after finally finishing his coughing fit. "Shea, you're not allowed to make me laugh ever again." He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "But here, darling, they got one hell of a tostada. Better than my abuela's, and that's saying something. There's also a caribou burger and fries which I've had a few times, but the best thing here is the jalapeno poppers, I've told you that." Shea snorts, drifting down the counter to take a new patron's order. "I've heard a bunch of their Chinese food is good, but I've never had it. S'not really my taste." He tilts his head and stares over at Mae. "Any ideas?"

An eternity must have passed by the time he finally took the glass into his hand. Damian had to get a quick glimpse at both Herrera and Shea to make sure that neither of them noticed him constantly moving his hand towards and away from the drink. He really hoped so. At least he is holding it, hooray; he has to start somewhere and introducing a sense of positivity could be that start.

The urge to take a sip stirred (no pun intended) within him. And so he did. Damain managed to take a small sip. His lips puckered as he sat the glass down as his eyes squinted shut for a quick second. God he certainly did not miss the taste of margaritas. Well he tried, right?

Attempting to take another tiny sip, he had to thank Herrera for using his sweet nicknames. With his usual eye roll, he just continued to look down at the margarita. It was like his eyes were practically glued to it.

A sour expression settled on his face. Glancing back at Herrera only made it worse. With every single bone in his body, he did everything to muster up some sort of smile. He shrugged, "Ahhh I don't know Felix." Biting his bottom lip, he took a glimpse up at the menu, "Why not have some Chinese? Doesn't hurt to try something, you know…."

Felix purses his lips, noting Mae's expression in response to the alcohol. All the signs point to a strong distaste for it, hell, probably something prior involving the substances. There has to be some sort of underlying fact… Shea's mixes can turn even alcohol haters into fans. Felix hums softly, piecing a few pieces together in his mind.

"Yeah, yeah. I should branch out a little." He points a smile towards Mae. "Bianca's Kung Pao recipe came from her grandma. Shea refuses to stop talking about it. Apparently it's god-send." He flips over the menu, scanning over the Chinese section beneath the Inuk list.

Sometimes it's better to sit down and get something over with. Dragging it out can make it worse. Besides, it is a good margarita after all; you can't get intoxicated after drinking one, right? Sighing quietly, his finger traced the rim of the glass as his eyes followed.

Damian shrugged to himself. Picking up the glass, he did his best to drink as much of it as he could; at a slow pace of course. He did put it down not too long after. There's still a little bit left in the drink. Nevertheless he looked over at Herrera, giving him a faint smile.

Leaning over a little, he looked at the menu. Using his right hand, he rubbed the back of his head before letting it rest on his knee. "How about the Kung Pao then?" He wondered. Damian shifted a little closer. "Or is there anything else on there rather looks good to you?"