group
Damian laughed, seeing as Herrera smiled. Thankfully the guy finds what he said funny. "Lake Meade isn't too far from Vegas," He deadpanned. Once he finished saying Vegas, he gave a wide smile just for a mere second. Eh, he's too tired to do anything needing more effort than whatever he's doing right now.
His eyes couldn't stay in one place for too long. They watched Herrera talk then the way his body moved while shifting in the seat. Afterwards, he watched the drumming of the fingers. There wasn't much for him to say, yet he felt the need to say something somewhat positive. "Everything will work out. Just ride the waves, even when they become tsunamis."
If there was one thing Damian was terrible at (aside from drinking alcohol), it would most definitely be talking, or answering questions about, himself. He sure does fulfill the stereotype of the emotionally closed-off detective. It's just too much. No one really wants to listen to a detective who has the facial expression range of a rock. Sometimes not talking about anything personal (better yet, emotional) makes things easier on him.
He hummed. "So so….." Damian mumbled. He's had some cases during his days in Virginia that were better than this. Of course, there was less blood and sleepless nights, but he'd rather not get into it. "It's the same old same old like any other. Nothing much. That's all."