Sylas plucked the foam cup off the desk with the tips of his fingers and lifted it up his lips. Pausing to respond, "Did they program you to be a masochist?" before taking a long sip of the fresh coffee. Really, the drink was more of a ritual at this point in his life than anything else. The caffeine in it was diluted to Hell and back, the department buying the cheapest of the cheap to skim on operating costs, and his body had built up substantial resilience to the stimulant. Still, the heated liquid lubricating his throat made his headache feel lesser for a few moments and that was a win enough for Sylas to continue drinking the bitter crap.<br/><br/>"Fine. But you're driving." Sylas grumbled as he sat up in his chair and set his drink down on the only clear spot on the desk's surface. Rubbing his eyes with a sigh he slid his hand up to run his fingers through his hair and brush it out of the way again. The bulletin board was still displayed on the screen with a few of the previous listings having disappeared or greyed out with one or two added new items popping into the top of the queue. Each was highlighted various colors to quickly denounce the general 'theme' to the investigation. Red was murder, for example, while Green pertained to a drug-related matter. Yellow for missing persons and Blue for a robbery. Should there happen to be several elements to a case, a murder of a known drug trafficker, the border might be a combined strip of the two. "I started out chasing gang cases, ya know? From my time downstairs I booked more than my fair share of the thugs when on patrol." With a shake of his head, he lifted the coffee cup and took another sip. Wincing at the burn as it flowed down his throat. "Fucking cockroaches."<br/><br/>Eventually, after a few minutes, Sylas selected the original murder case that had caught his eye; if only because no one else in the department wanted to touch the thing. A young man, hardly into his twenties, had been found shot to death in his apartment. Back of the head execution style with the blood splattering against the floor already ruling out a suicide. Unless he was damned determined to make some unfortunate detective's day a whole lot shittier after the whole thing was over. One Arles Johnson with a rap sheet of crimes ranging from trafficking to pickpocketing. Nothing serious enough to warrant picking the kid up and throwing him in the already over capacity prisons but still keeping tabs on the man with the intentions of turning him into an informant or mole when they had something really juicy to lord over his head. Looked like his employers had gotten to him first.<br/><br/>"Bodies still down on the slab, if you'd like to take a look." Sylas shrugged before clicking over to accept the case. With no family to speak of or associates who were interested in their slain collogue finding justice, the payout would be fulfilled by the company instead; no added bonuses for a job wrapped up nice and tidy. "Not much we'd find there that wouldn't already be in the report." So, Sylas tossed what was left of his coffee back in one gulp and pushed himself out of the seat. "Come on. Might as well check out his place. Still roped off for now." Without looking to see if Gaia would follow or not, Sylas headed for the garage.