[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://shootingthescript.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/machete-2.jpg?w=455&h=300[/img][hr][b][color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] The Morgue 
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	The inappropriateness of his presence in the Morgue proper, while the bodies of his daughter and a lady who might as well be his daughter lay available for examination, occurred to Caesar. Naturally, he had to bring suds and pizza along for the event. Not to say that all of this wasn't effecting the older man, because it most certainly was, it was just doing so in a manner differing from most men in his position. It was like emotional fuel. In the past, he had gone to great lengths to find and messily expire people who hurt his loved ones. Generally, his role as an investigator never came into play for instances such as this; he was merely pointed in the right direction and let loose. It was easy to follow his tracks in instances like these. They were the ones painted in blood. 

	Caesar gave a simple nod of greeting to the doctor, following her introduction in Spanish. So she had no idea who he was. Either that, or she was a damned fine actor. It was of little consequence, if she [i]was[/i] playacting effectively, if was a short matter of time before she got his identity from Cecily. He may as well be up front about it this time. He raised one finger, casting an expression that seemed to ask for a second of trust as his other hand reached for his wallet. The older man procured one of his credentials and held it up for a quick visual. 

	[color=orangered]"Commandant Caesar Gonzalez, Mexican Federal, Retired. Private Contractor. We were working a related case when..."[/color] His voice fell away for a moment, genuine emotion playing in his brain (if not on his face), [color=orangered]"...when this happened. We've been open about our findings. Hoping for a return on that."[/color]