[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://media.giphy.com/media/wbomIbUs5Bc2I/giphy.gif[/img][hr][b]Location:[/b] Street
[b]Interacting With:[/b] Alicia, Lorna
[hr][hr][/center]

	Continued contact with the roasting pan (possible irony here) was making Caesar's hands uncomfortably cold. Having been in the freezer and containing frozen custardy delights, it was quite clearly communicating to the venerable Mexican its desire to lower his core body temperature, possibly as an act of revenge for being smothered with chocolatey pepper topping. It seemed like an excellent idea at the time. Point of fact, it still seemed like an excellent idea. Maybe if it went over well at the block party, he'd invest a bit of fluid capital into development. Possibly produce a workable product for ice cream trucks or bodegas. But these were thoughts for another time. Right at this moment, Caesar was being interrogated by his only legitimate daughter. 

	[color=82ca9d]”Papi, what the hell is that?”[/color]

	[color=orangered]"Hey there, M'hija."[/color] he began in an uncharacteristically relaxed, almost pleasant voice. [color=orangered]"The landlord was happy to take care of the carpet for you. Used the time to contribute to the fiesta. I call them "Engelatos". Try one?"[/color] 

	Caesar opened the corner of the foil covering the container to allow Alicia access to the sweet and spicy contents therein. [color=orangered]"Talk to me about taquitos, M'hija. What do you need?"[/color] Though his attention was focused on his daughter, Caesar glanced over to Lorna, motioning to offer her an Engelato. 

	[color=olive]“I’ll get some in a mo, El Jefe! Gonna be gettin’ me some smokey goodness first!”[/color]

	The older man smirked just a little. He seemed to be in unusually high spirits today. That is to say, he wasn't angry, sulking, and/or intoxicated while sharpening a long blade of some kind while writing down a list of names in a pocket notebook labelled "Lista de Asesinato". Maybe this Vacation thing was a good idea. Regarding Lorna's postponing of his culinary haphazardry in favor of Smoker-Boy's fabulous meat products, he leaned in a little closer to Alicia, intoning, [color=orangered]"Smokey Goodness, eh? Wonder what she means by that."[/color] 

	Ice cream and a joke all in one day. He must be in high spirits, indeed. 

	His high spirits were blunted somewhat by the presence of the media along the edges of the gathering. Yeah, someone died the last time a big party went down. Now here stood the various representatives of the news; print, television, or other. They'd likely be hanging around into the darker hours of the evening, interviewing people, poking around the neighborhood, and such. Given Caesar's experience with reporters, he wouldn't at all be surprised if at least one hangs around to see if something else horrible occurs, or worse yet - tries to stir up their own trouble for a story. 

	Maybe it was his own pessimism, but this setting had the potential for something unpleasant. Forcing himself to lighten up (or at least outwardly appear so), he smiled and looked to his Alicia, querying, [color=orangered]"There a place to put these before we get to it?"[/color]

	The subtle shift in his posture, unrecognizable by most, hinted that he was at least halfway back on the clock.