If green felt and failure had a sound, if lucre was anything less than filthy, if there was any merit at all to the meretricious, LAS vegas would not exist formed as it was around the dueling talents of Kris Engelen, Raphaël Rastelli, Eugene S. Robinson, and Dominique Van Cappellen-Waldock and capturing, or as near as possible, the chill of endless neon and nights full of nothing but.