[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://assets.entrepreneur.com/content/16x9/822/20150202185410-snickers.jpeg[/img][hr][b]Location:[/b] Apartment 2D (Alicia's), Street
[b]Interacting With:[/b] Alicia, Tank, The Landlord, and glorious, glorious, Taquitos 
[hr][hr][/center]

	The overall feel of the outside was a general building of emotion. Some good - the anticipation of a big event, meeting and partying with friends, meeting of new neighbors. Also, some bad - memory of past tragedy, the uncertainty that night in this city brings, fear of what might be drawn to the revelry and frivolities of the evening. This was a great city in which to expand his business, but perhaps the decision to take his hiatus here was the result of flawed logic. 

	Another possibility: Perhaps, much like Kwai Chang Caine of the immortal 1970's television series, just perhaps, the universe placed him exactly where he needed to be. 

	Caesar strode into his daughter's apartment with the same manner of observant confidence as he went about everything else in his life. He passed the neighbor guy's bike on the way in, noting its make, model, and plate number. Just a bit of information for later, if required. He flashed an obviously forced smile at the bike's owner, grunting an affirmation. Alicia was being nice to him. Open(ish). Neighborly, even. Considering their histories, that seemed a calculated risk. What starts out as a friendly gathering of colleagues and acquaintances, in his experience, often turns into a firefight. Maybe if Caesar knew more people here, he would relax his attitude. Until he did, however, there was a strange guy in M'hija's residence. 

	Trying his damnedest to not scowl, Caesar dropped a layer of shredded cheese on the last portions of the blessed application of meat and corn tortillas, the enigmatic yet comprehensible Taquitos. He punched a couple of settings on the oven, tossed them in, and turned his attention to the landlord, still occupying the room. To his credit, he was taking care of the problem with proficiency and expedience. Whether this was because of professional pride in is work or fear of partial evisceration was up for debate; nevertheless the creepy fellow went about his job. 

	As he waited for the cheese to melt, Caesar spoke to the landlord in his best Federale Commandant voice. [color=orangered]"You have been here a long time, haven't you? I hear rumors about the woman who died."[/color] He leaned over the kitchen counter, peering into the living area at the man. [color=orangered]"What do you know about it?"[/color]