[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar[/color] y [color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img][/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Justice Asylum [hr][hr][/center]

	For whatever reason, the city coroner's staff had refused to answer Caesar's questions about the scene. His query concerning the actual site of the crime was met with vapid stares at best, though mostly he was ignored. This was despite Cecily's insistence that they had full access. Looking at the sea of apathy washing around him, the older man held his arms outstretched as a man might when expressing sincere disbelief. Caesar himself merely added a sigh of disgust to the situation and called to his associate, still with the young Coroner. 

	[color=orangered]"Oye!"[/color] 

	Keystone turned around to see his boss pull security credentials from his wallet and clip them to the front of his jacket. He motioned for the big man to do the same. Anyone looking closely would see that they were private security, but having some form of external ID gave their presence a sort of legitimacy. The rest (as with many things) was attitude. As Keystone clipped his own MSS identification to his shirt front, Caesar took it upon himself to follow the stream of civil service worker bees from the lot out front into the building. He loosened his gun in its holster, likewise one of his handful of sharp implements. If no one was going to give him direct answers, then damnit, he was going to find out himself. Before he set foot inside the building proper, Caesar punched a quick message into his secure satellite phone to Keystone. 

[center][color=orangered][u][i]"Phones on silent. Keep me informed."[/i][/u][/color][/center]

	He gave it a few seconds to get through, looking back at the Cockney monolith. Keystone gave him a quick thumbs-up, and returned to his duties. 

	So far as his duties were concerned, this was the bread-and-butter of his average workday. Stay near the client, keep observant, assist as necessary, and be intimidating when need called for it. He was the 600 lb. gorilla that followed orders until the proverbial excrement traded solid, kinetic energy the the blades of an analog air-moving device. Then it was his turn to issue commands. That hour, Keystone existed as the crushing, physical arm that flexed and retracted with a massive, ham-sized fist, directed by and for the best interests (or merely convenience) of young Cecily Ashworth, unless directed otherwise by the one person on scene capable of doing so. Luckily for him, that person was leaving the immediate area. 

	Keystone's demeanor changed into something somewhat more professional, as opposed to the restaurant or in his car. His posture straightened and eyes narrowed, chin lowering just a bit in response to his new set of responsibilities. He maintained his proximity to Cecily, though not so close as to get in her way in the instance of a sudden direction change throughout the course of her job, staying mostly to her back right flank. [color=b8860b]"Ma'am?"[/color] he rumbled to Cecily. Somehow, his voice got [i]even deeper[/i]. [color=b8860b]"You let me know if'n you need me on somethin'. Anything at all. I'm y'Brute Squad tonight."[/color] He then set to keeping his eyes and ears on the scene.