HEY, i think i just saw SANTIAGO "SANTI" MORALES walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the FORTY TWO YEAR OLD is working as a DIRTY CIVILIAN FOR CACTUS CATS / ATTORNEY + SNELL LAW FIRM and lives in THE CROIX TOWNHOUSES. given they are ORGANIZED but BLUNT, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. on the flipside, rumor has it that HE PRACTICES LAW WITHOUT A NEVADA BAR CARD AND SHOWS A FORGED ONE WHEN ASK TO VERIFY HIS ATTORNEY STATUS and it keeps them looking over their shoulder. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to BAD COMPANY BY BAD COMPANY and you’ll know why they’re called THE RESERVED. ☾ .⭒˚ alfonso herrera. cismale+ he/him. bisexual + virgo. ( donuts, 30+, she/her, pacific )
Full Name: Santiago Morales
Aliases: Santi, Mo
Age: 42
Gender: cismale
Pronouns: he/him
Sexuality: bisexual
Relationship Status: married ( wanted connection )
Species: human
Occupation: attorney at snell law firm
Alliance: dirty civilian for cactus cats
Residence: the croix townhouses
Label: the reserved
Was born in Mexico. He has one sibling.
His mom worked as a nurse and his dad worked as an attorney for the cartel.
Law had always been something that Santiago was interested in pursuing like his father. He never denied that he wanted to be a lawyer.
Fresh out of high school, Santiago got accepted in law school. He worked in his father’s office while attending classes. It gave him some experience and he got to see how his father ran his business.
He was doing good in college, almost better than his dad. Seeing that Santi was thriving, he offered a position in his firm to Santiago even before he graduated. He said that the cartel would love to retain him as a lawyer.
But Santiago didn’t want to work for the crime syndicate. He wanted to practice law the right way and help the people of their community. His father wanted Santi to continue his legacy while still trying to remain on top.
The pressure of pleasing his dad and being told how to run his career was too much for him. He felt like he was being forced to be what his dad wanted. He didn’t get a chance to be just Santiago or have something that was only his.
That was until he met the man that would become his partner, Marcos. They were both attending the same college, but only Santi was studying law. But even though he knew it wasn’t right to be in love with another man, Santiago felt he couldn’t live without Marcos.
They ended up seeing each other in private. Never really telling anyone else about their relationship. His mom seemed to have some clue, but Santi’s dad was too busy to pay attention. His mom never told Santiago’s dad. She still keeps it a secret despite Santiago being in Las Vegas. She believes it isn’t her secret to tell.
Once he was finished with college, Santiago got a job with a law firm that was completely different from what his father did. He was fighting for the people instead of the criminals. He had spent two years in the law firm before Santiago and Marcos were forced to flee Mexico. His father had caught onto their relationship. He was already pissed that his son picked a different field to practice law in. Seeing his son with another man only made his anger worst and he had sent the cartel after them.
Fearing for their safety, Marcos and Santiago escaped to America. They kept on moving north until they felt safe enough to settle down in Las Vegas.
Since they were in a rush to leave the country, Santiago wasn’t able to get the proper documents that would allow him to practice law in America. So he was left trying to find a job and a place where he could continuing what he had worked so hard on. He was almost going to give up on trying when he decided to get forged documents from the Weiss family that would allow him to practice law. But the forged documents came with a price. Since he couldn’t afford the payment, he took a loan out frlm the Cactus Cats to help pay for what he needed. Being without a job and not being able to tell his partner how he got the documents, Santiago agreed to be affiliated to the Cactus Cats in order to pay off his debt.
It wasn’t long until he landed a job at Smell Law Firm. He had a lot to learn with American law. But it all seemed to be the same to him, help the good guys while working to keep the bad guys out of prison.
He had became the one person he tried so bad not to be, his father.
Two things are apparent the moment the man opens his mouth. The first? He doesn't have a clue who he has sitting at his table. Álvaro chooses not to take that fact personally; unlike some of the younger cactus cats he tried to stay well off the radar of cops and the deal Santiago had cut with the group meant that he hadn't needed to keep following up on that particular debt. Besides, the lack of memory could easily be chalked up to the second, more obvious fact - he was clearly under the weather. The kind of flu brought on by finding your way to the bottom of too many bottles in Vegas. If he was nice, he would have left the man to his hangover but he'd already started a silent count in his head, find out just how long it would take his unwilling dining partner to put the pieces together or admit defeat and ask a new found entertainment to accompany the meal.
"Didn't seem like you were using it." The debt collector shrugs, leaning back in his seat to both emphasize that he's got not intention of moving and to try and catch a glimpse of the server in question. "…Guess that's a no to desert." If asked, even he wouldn't have been able to say for certain if the disdain in the observation was directed at the server's behavior or their failing so spectacularly in public. "Dishwasher's made for the back door three time since I walked in. Figure someone will let him bum a cigarette off them before shifts over. Think you've got me beat though." A grin flashes at the other, the concession immediately ruined by the subtle mockery in his next words. "I'd offer to buy you a drink but it seems like you might want to start cutting back. You party this hard every weekend or just when court's out for the holidays?"
"Doesn't mean I didn't plan on having anyone to join me." Which wasn't true since it was clear that Santi had intended to dine alone. It didn't seem like other guy wanted to leave the table. He would put up more of a fight, but he was tired and his head hurt. Fighting was something he didn't want to do. Plus maybe a little company wouldn't be that bad. "No dessert is a shame. I was really looking forward to having a slice of cheesecake." Santiago liked to believe he could read people, to observe them from afar. He could tell the server had a gluttony problem. But he wasn't one to judge. Everyone had their faults. "How do I got you beat? Did I actually win this game?" He tries to smile back, but it doesn't quite reach across his face. It hurts too much to smile. "Yea, I do have to stop. I can't take the pressure from headaches." He groans softly, his fingers massaging his temples. "Just holidays and my birthday. I feel like drinking will make me appear to be more...American...I guess."
It was his way of fitting in and trying to assimilate into the normal society like they want foreigners to do. It was a struggle, but one he worked hard to achieve. "I know you right?" He finally asks, realizing that maybe he did see the other around before. "I'm Santiago, but I think you already knew that."
New years was, without question, one of his favorite holidays.
Maybe it was breaking out that brand new kitten calendar, or all the goodwill and money they managed to squander over the holidays but there was something about the clock striking midnight on the first that convinced Vegas' dumb and delusional to stop chasing that next big score and turn over a new leaf. It made for a few weeks of easy collecting until the bad habits inevitably set back in. The day's rounds had been particularly lucrative, enough that he felt he deserved to stop and get himself something before delivering the days spoils to Solomon.
He was less of a fan of the New Year crowds.
Despite a full day's passing since the ball had dropped, the celebrants hadn't and even a place that would normally be half empty this time of day was packed. Álvaro had gotten lucky, spotting a familiar face among the tables…or at least familiar enough that he could justify taking advantage of the empty chair across from them. With the waiter having disappeared back into the sea of people with his order, he leaned in, the better to be heard over the din of a dozen other conversations. "Who here do you think is gonna fail their new years resolution first?" The question was asked conspiratorially as brown eyes scanned the room. "My money's on the dishwasher."
All Santiago wanted was to eat a good breakfast and get over this horrible hangover he had. It seemed like partying and having fun was never ending for him. He was trying to hard to keep up with whatever kind of friend he had since the clock struck midnight a few days ago. Or was it just yesterday? He wasn’t really sure anymore. All he knew that there was far too much drinking and not enough eating. His stomach needed more than just beer and peanuts that tasted stale. So he had found a good restaurant to go to and a spot where he could sit quietly in the back with his sunglasses on to block the glare of the lights.
He had been successful sitting alone up until whoever this guy was sat across from him. “Hey, hermano.” Santiago says, voice gruff and husky from the drinks. “I don’t care about New Year’s resolutions. I just care about how you interpreted my space without asking.” He felt like he’s seen the other guy before but he’s not quite sure if he has. Vegas was big but if you knew who was who or who was part of a gang, the city was small. He looks around the restaurant despite himself and wanting the other to leave. “Huh…I guess if I had to play along, I’d say the server. Cause he’s been eating the desserts people ordered. The way he’s been looking at them tells me he promised to stop eating sweets.”
