Contempt...right? Santanico highly doubted that it was mere contempt that made Richie dislike his brother so. She'd done her homework there too. Richie was smart, but Seth was the one everyone always found so damn charming. Richie was exactly like he was seated before her: cold, disinterested in anything, but himself, and isolated. He wasn't good with people and while he could say whatever he wanted concerning his older brother, Santanico had a feeling he cared more about what people think than he was letting on. Why else would it bother him so that his brother was so much more well-liked than he was himself? However, Richie was right; Santanico was not here to psychoanalyze him. Granted, it was always good to know weakness's and ponder how and when to exploit them, but she was here to recruit him, not to pick apart his entire, rather pathetic, existence. "No, as much fun as this is, it's not. And the moment I walked through the door you pledged your allegiance or should I assume you reconsidered? I don't think you're that stupid," she replied smoothly. "If you were, I would be sitting on someone else's counter top." No doubt existed in her mind that he wished she was, more than anything, but absolutely no luck there. She was sitting on his counter, watching him with her curious, large eyes and perfectly glossed pout. Maybe even eying him in the hopes he produce another cigarette. If he didn't, it was a horrible habit after all. She'd be better off. Santanico doubted that somehow. Severely.
"I've been civil," she corrected him, a bit of a temper perhaps flaring up beneath that so calm, collected exterior. "You've been...you." To anyone else, it might have been taken as an insult, but to Richie? Santanico doubted it wasn't anything less than an compliment. Then again, most people that she dealt with, in their field of business, were rather cold and like he said, seeing her was not exactly cause of celebration for anyone ever. Death was swift or right around the corner wherever Santanico tread; life expectancy severely cut at the appearance of the drug lord's daughter. A banshee? It was sadly fitting. She was death on expensive 6-inch heels complete with a bodyguard or enforcer to make it all come together. "Regardless, it will be on a case by case basis of sorts. We will call you when we need you and since this is the 21st Century and my father makes more money than you will hope to ever see in your lifetime, you'll have a separate phone, strictly for when I call," she added. A slender, manicured nailed hand slipped into the Coach purse perched seated on the counter, beside her hip, and dug out a smart phone. Holding up, the flat screen reflected in the light, mostly a glow with self-illumination. Technology at it's finest. Only the best from her father and anyone with the luck or rather, misfortune of being chosen to work for him. "Beepers are a little old-fashioned, don't you think?"
Santanico assumed he would take the deal. Perhaps he did have a fatalistilc desire to fumble his way to the other side, but she doubted he would go so quietly or without a fight of some kind. His life might have been deemed by himself and anyone from the outside as pathetic and a justification for the worst end possible. Criminals rarely received mercy; they were not innocent and far from understandable victims of circumstance. The only reason Santanico was see as anything else by the outside world was because of the mask she wore, her connection known, but not so much by the public. Richie didn't have the resources Santanico had to easily start over. To be someone else. "Because you're an intelligent man, I'm assuming you'll take the deal. We'll contact you when we need you like I said. Also, we may ask you to give us some information on your police buddies from time to time, especially if they happen to actually trip and fall down the right hole at some point," She stood and slid the phone across the counter. "Any questions? We can call you anytime, day or night. Because we need you to remain as least suspicious as possible, we will be practicing some restraint."