2020-06-08 - Sizing Up

A lot of things happen in the back room of a strip club. Many of which are better off never seeing the light of day, which is why this cinderblock room has no windows. Like a casino, it's impossible to tell the time of day, which is why Cris has no idea how long he's been here, running stacks of hundred dollar bills through the automatic counter so they can eventually be banded and sent off to the casino to be laundered. But something is off, the count is not adding up, and Cristobal is running his hand through his hair in frustration.

Vic may be new to town, but she's not new to Felix's organization. He trusts her enough to take the cash from the club and deliver it to the casino, secure in the knowledge if anyone tries to take it from her en route, they'd never find the bodies. There is a knock on the door to the back room, and the tall woman waits to be let inside, in jeans and a white tank top under an unbuttoned black shirt. At least she's in tactical boots, which don't add too much to her 5'11" height. Her hair is down and wavy, but it doesn't look like she put effort into styling, it just falls like that.

Cristobal slides his gun off the table, the safety thumbed off when he answers the door, boot blocking it from being opened more than a crack. Hs pale blue eyes flick up and down Vic's form before the door swings open the rest of the way. "What do you want." The question is asked as he's already turning away back to the table. Let it never be said that he's not in the running for Mr. Congeniality of the organization.

Vic is definitely not Miss Congeniality either. "I'm here to do the transfer to the casino," she states flatly as she moves inside and shuts the door behind her, locking it. She hooks her thumbs into the belt loops on her jeans and leans back against the door, those cold dark blue eyes taking in everything in great detail. "I don't think we've been introduced. Vic, I've worked for Felix up in Hoquiam for four years. He sent me down here to make sure no one fucks with Joey Kelly and his operations."

Cristobal slumps down in the chair, his hand immediately going to tent over his eyes. Forefinger and thumb bridged over his nose and rubbing ruefully around the socket. "So you're Kelly's new muscle, huh? That's really swell. Super swell." The surly Mexican pitches back forward. "Well, have fun telling Felix that Kenny came up Two K short. I hear he doesn't shoot the messenger. Much."

Vic's eyes narrow, sharp and glinting in the dim backroom. "Who is Kenny and where is his business?" Clearly, Kenny is going to be making up his deficit, one way or another. "Muscle, yeah. I clean things up nice and tidy." Because she was a cop, she knows forensics, she knows that people aren't going to find a body brought into the Veil and chucked into its version of Gray Pond.

"How long have you been working for the boss? The big boss, not the little one." Kelly is the latter.

Cristobal's eyes flash up to Vic's face, just as his upper lip curls into a half smirk, half sneer that has the it sitting lopsidedly over his teeth like a vicious version of Elvis. "Kenny's dead, baby. Kenny's dead. And I already dispatched the cleaners, because this isn't my first rodeo. I came up highly recommended from El Paso a coupla months ago." Or more importantly, just across the bridge in Juarez. "Cristobal Cruz." Also an ex-cop if the sources are correct.

Vic makes a sound low in her throat, which might be approval that the situation was handled before she got there. "El Paso, hm? Deal with a lot of cartel traffic?" she asks curiously. One brow arches, if he's done his research, he might have sussed out she was on the force in Portland, a Narcotics detective.

There is a scratch to the side of his nose with his thumb nail, giving a little bit of a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, something like that." Cris makes a little motion to one of the chairs. "Have a seat. I haven't packaged this up yet, gonna be a hot minute." A bottle of Jack is nudged over, but she'll have to share his glass if she doesn't want to swig directly from the bottle.

Vic settles into the chair and grabs the bottle for a swig. She's clearly not shy about booze. "Dealt a lot with Sinaloa in Portland. Big cell there. Crazy brutal motherfuckers," she notes. "Being here is almost a fucking vacation compared to that."

Cris takes a stack of bills and starts tapping them into a little neater pile than the counter left them with. "This town is its own brand of loco. Portland, huh?" That makes him look a little harder at Vic, like he's trying to peel away the layers and look at what's underneath. "You know the police Captain, de la Vega? That used to be his own stomping ground."

"De la Vega was Seattle PD. But I pulled him to Portland for an undercover job. I was a Narcotics Detective. We were inserted down there in the thick of it. It was ugly. Two years worth of really fucking ugly shit." She smirks a little. "Let's just say I'm not Javier's favorite person."

"Sweetheart, even his significant other isn't his favorite person. That's not saying much. Ruiz hates everyone, but I'll keep that in mind." Cris touches one of his canines with the tip of his tongue with an expression of amusement. "Annoying him is one of my favorite past times. And, sort of my job, so." More specifically, his role is keeping the Police Department of Gray Harbor in line, on the take, or unwise to Felix's and now Joey's operation.

Vic just looks amused at Cris' estimation that Ruiz hates everyone equally. Not everyone sold him out to the cartel and nearly got his ass killed when she turned dirty cop. "I'll keep that in mind. He and I sure as hell won't be exchanging friendship bracelets, I can tell you that much. So, he has a significant other these days?" She seems curious at that. "Someone can actually stand being around him for more than ten minutes?"

"A man's gotta stick his dick somewhere." Cris says obliquely as he slaps a paper band around a stack and tosses it into a pile, his eyes flick up to Vic briefly before they go back down to his work. "Was that you, once upon a time? I mean. Gotta maintain your cover when you're under the covers, right?"

"With De la Vega? Hah! No. I was the arm candy of the cell's head. He had a thing for blondes. Javier and I never fucked." Vic pauses, pondering. "I don't think. Maybe? If we did I can't remember. There were a LOT of drugs and an ocean of booze at those cartel parties. You could ski on the coke alone." She snorts and wipes at her nose with the side of her hand. Clearly she's still got a taste for the latter.

And don't think Cris didn't notice that little sniffle maneuver. He knows it all too well, though it's clear from the turn of his mouth, it's not from personal use. "That's some real shit, isn't it. The force puts you in the Lion's Den and then expects you not to come out with some permanent claw marks."

Vic shrugs. "Yeah, well, that was then. Now I work for Monaghan and he's done right by me." She reaches to take another swig from the bottle of whiskey and smacks her lips after swallowing the mouthful. "Do you know anyone good at installing surveillance shit? Hidden cameras and the like?" she asks.

"I gotta guy who can obtain the best damn equipment this side of the Rio Grande, but you want an install, 'fraid that's where my contact dry up. We can ask around. Joey probably knows someone. Who are you trying to surveil? I'm guessing this isn't for some kinda kink. Unless it is, and then I want copies." Cris tosses over another stack of bills towards the growing mound. It'll fill that medium sized duffel by the time he's done.

''Nothing nefarious. Just someone back in Portland I want to make sure is safe and sound, and I can't go there myself right now." Vic's jaw tightens. Condition of Felix's agreement with Francisco Ojedo. Vic was banished from her hometown, and the Fantasmas de Sangre would leave her father and his bar the fuck alone. "Get the equipment. I'll see what Kelly has in his pocket for an installer. You bout done?" She looks at the pile and the duffel, eager to get the task finished so she can go back to her trailer and snort something.

"How about I just make the fucking introduction, and you can pull the trigger on the shopping list yourself. I'm not your step and fetch boy, Vic. And if you're getting your panties in a wade about the wait time, why don't you make yourself fucking useful and start packing the bag instead of just sitting there, drinking my booze." Cris' eyebrows tick upwards, wondering if this is going to turn into a thing.

"I don't touch the money, Cruz. It's how Felix knows I won't be the one taking any of it. Why don't you text me when it's ready, and I'll come back to get it. I'll be out there drinking the strip club's booze til then." Vic smirks at him. There are plenty of forensic reasons for her not to touch the cash ever, but she may just be being an ornery asshole in this case, because he was being snippy. She gets up, slides his bottle back to him, and heads for the door.