[ Ray is serenity refined. He finishes his approach, leaning against the edge of the table. There was something rakish and dangerous about this guy, not a typical cop, but then the Chicago accent really gave him away. Dangerous was good in Chicago; it was good in Vegas too, but the cops here were really smothered, worn down, harmless even despite their best efforts. How did you police a city like Vegas?
If he was from Chicago, then he was here looking for Fraser. New partner, maybe? Why did that make him feel so...redundant? Jealous? Was he jealous of this blonde Polack with the smart mouth? Damn yes. He missed Fraser, missed Chicago, missed his home and his family. God, he'd even give up the spotlight forever if it meant getting out of this hairtrigger deathtrap.
As for Kowalski, it took some balls - real balls - to look at a guy in a three thousand dollar suit, a clearly made man, and ask him to bring a round of drinks. He liked that--jealousy or no. He could appreciate pure ballsyness. ]
Bourbon and soda, of course. Anyone else? Scotch, gin and tonic. Lemon ice with vodka for me. [ He tapped the dealer on the shoulder, tapped her out, and the attractive young woman in the red waistcoat stepped aside, not even so much as catching his eye as she stepped away. She'd fetch the drinks, while Armando took over the table. He collected the cards, shuffled them, and laid his hands flat.
Kowalski's two tablemates seemed to consider the stakes too high for them. They raised their hands and backed off, though they didn't seem to be so eager to leave the table; this was the Vegas equivalent of watching a car crash happening, and someone might end up mangled in the ground at the end of it. They were in it for the long haul. ]
So what about it, Detective? You want to try your luck? Of course you do, on your salary. That's what--sixteen thousand five hundred? [ He reached under the table, took out a thousand dollar chip and laid it in Ray's quarter. ] But it's always better when it's not your money you're playing with, so why don't we cut right to the chase. You win, the house pays up. Dealer wins, you can keep the chip, and I get to know what you're really after. Either way you can't lose.
[ He didn't wait to hear whether or not Ray thought this was reasonable; he'd probably fight it just to be difficult, and he wasn't prepared to let a cop get a one up on him. The detective was too quick for that, and he couldn't afford to allow himself to be undermined in front of his men. He dealt cards; two for Ray, face up, 4, 7, two for himself, only one face up, a 9. ]
You came here looking for me specifically, I know that much. Few people would be that foolish. Look around you--you see those guys in Boss suits by the door, the guy by the water dispenser, the one at the chip exchange? They all work for me. You can't lose; you gonna take a hit or not?
no subject
If he was from Chicago, then he was here looking for Fraser. New partner, maybe? Why did that make him feel so...redundant? Jealous? Was he jealous of this blonde Polack with the smart mouth? Damn yes. He missed Fraser, missed Chicago, missed his home and his family. God, he'd even give up the spotlight forever if it meant getting out of this hairtrigger deathtrap.
As for Kowalski, it took some balls - real balls - to look at a guy in a three thousand dollar suit, a clearly made man, and ask him to bring a round of drinks. He liked that--jealousy or no. He could appreciate pure ballsyness. ]
Bourbon and soda, of course. Anyone else? Scotch, gin and tonic. Lemon ice with vodka for me. [ He tapped the dealer on the shoulder, tapped her out, and the attractive young woman in the red waistcoat stepped aside, not even so much as catching his eye as she stepped away. She'd fetch the drinks, while Armando took over the table. He collected the cards, shuffled them, and laid his hands flat.
Kowalski's two tablemates seemed to consider the stakes too high for them. They raised their hands and backed off, though they didn't seem to be so eager to leave the table; this was the Vegas equivalent of watching a car crash happening, and someone might end up mangled in the ground at the end of it. They were in it for the long haul. ]
So what about it, Detective? You want to try your luck? Of course you do, on your salary. That's what--sixteen thousand five hundred? [ He reached under the table, took out a thousand dollar chip and laid it in Ray's quarter. ] But it's always better when it's not your money you're playing with, so why don't we cut right to the chase. You win, the house pays up. Dealer wins, you can keep the chip, and I get to know what you're really after. Either way you can't lose.
[ He didn't wait to hear whether or not Ray thought this was reasonable; he'd probably fight it just to be difficult, and he wasn't prepared to let a cop get a one up on him. The detective was too quick for that, and he couldn't afford to allow himself to be undermined in front of his men. He dealt cards; two for Ray, face up, 4, 7, two for himself, only one face up, a 9. ]
You came here looking for me specifically, I know that much. Few people would be that foolish. Look around you--you see those guys in Boss suits by the door, the guy by the water dispenser, the one at the chip exchange? They all work for me. You can't lose; you gonna take a hit or not?