"You know, miss, the whole act you did from the moment you stepped into this room was amazing, was mesmerizing, just like you." César began with a flirty tone, but for Sirina it felt more like pushing her into a corner, and she immediately wanted to counter it.
"I don't—"
"Let me finish it, okay?" César asked, interrupting her, and she immediately realized this was going in the wrong direction. Not just pushing her into the corner but having the upper hand over the whole situation.
"Yeah." Sirina answered him with a light smile, still composed.
"So." César began, leaning back, still nonchalant. "First of all, why would a detective walk in to question a witness while knowing absolutely nothing about the case, or even why I'm here? That's just stupid… and yet you did exactly that, came in without so much as a notebook. That alone sends a clear message, you know nothing. Which also means you aren't a detective, but something else."
She knew it too… but she did it because she thought César was just a random civilian, someone who would be a hundred percent convinced she was a detective. More than that, she believed she could control the narrative, dominate the flow of the conversation, but she failed miserably.
At least now she knew she had.
Not a single piece of paper, not a pen, not even a pencil. Nothing on her. She walked in as if she knew everything, only to stupidly ask why César was even here in the first place. Still, she had no choice but to counter him once again.
"I think you are the one overcomplicating it." Sirina answered him with that still fake smile. "You are a witness, why would I bring anything with me? And second, I didn't say I am the one who is handling your case. I just came in to ask questions, so your assumptions are wrong."
"Oh… that could be true." César answered immediately, and in fact, it was. She never said she was leading the case, never said she was the officer gathering the information, or anything else. "…but in this situation, it isn't. You just made it up."
Still nothing, no smile, no reaction, nothing Sirina could read or use to figure out his goal. But she knew, without a doubt, that her excitement had led her into a room with someone who knew how to flip the narrative, who understood the difference between detectives and officers, how the entire system worked… which meant he had dealt with them before.
Suddenly, the cartel outfit, the behavior, the unreal presence of César began to make sense to her. Not just making sense… the picture became clearer and clearer. He didn't wear that outfit just because he liked it.
"What led you to believe I made it up? That a detective would lie to you?" She asked, still trying to escape the corner he had pushed her into. "That would be against the rules and the oath I took."
That alone almost made César burst out laughing again… hearing her talk about oath and justice turned the entire situation into something absurd and laughable. They always said it was for "justice," always talked about "oaths," and then the next thing you know they were murderers, corrupt motherfuckers, serial killers who didn't give a single fuck about their oath or justice as long as there was enough money or blackmail material involved.
Half the time they ended up worse than the criminals themselves.
Though at least Sirina noticed it, finally noticed something as César visibly pushed the smile back, shaking his head slightly, forcing down the laugh. "You know, Sirina, I've never in my life seen a detective on duty wearing high heels. Not just high heels, but red-bottom ones that cost a thousand or more. Heels that are half, if not more… than a detective's salary."
Suddenly, the atmosphere between them tightened. César stared into her eyes, and Sirina was now a hundred percent sure that Peter and Hoffa had been acting strange because of him and that wasn't all.
The fact that César noticed something as small as her red-bottom heels, and understood exactly how a police interrogation worked, was more than enough for her to realize the truth.
He was experienced.
"I thrifted them for a hundred bucks." She began. "And you stared at my legs?" She asked, kind of trying to break the tension, but César had no business in it.
"Lies…" He smirked, leaning forward. "You know, agents like you act exactly how you do, switching suddenly from friendly to aggressive, back and forth. And your hand… too smooth, too soft to belong to a detective. Your nails are done, but not painted. Your hair is a wig, and you tried to hide your eye bags with makeup… but you didn't do a very good job. But do you know what gives it away even more?"
Those eyes… man. César's gaze transformed into exactly what he had described about the Directors in his past lives. Hollow, dark, empty eyes, without of any human light, staring into Sirina's.
It's hard to explain… like a thousand-year star on steroids, just pulling you in.
"…what?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, her heart racing for the first time in what felt like forever.
It was completely absurd. Sitting across from someone who hadn't even threatened her… in the middle of a police station, with her bodyguards waiting just outside the door… yet she felt something that wasn't fear. Something else entirely, the realization that she wasn't the lion in the den… but the opposite.
"Well, Agent Sirina…" César changed again and leaned back with a big smile on his face. It was the foolish one, not the smug or light one, but a genuine smile was on his face. "…your identification card was peeking out in your back pocket, so when you turned to close the door I saw it for a second, and it said NSA."
The shock on her face was… cute. She was a little cutie pie as she realized that from the beginning César knew who she was but played along… played with her.
But it was all a lie… César only knew from the System that she was an agent, and indeed he saw an ID card stuffed into her back pocket, but saw nothing poking out… and only chose to say NSA because that force has more women.
In short, he gambled, and seeing her reaction meant he gambled right.