[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://media.giphy.com/media/wbomIbUs5Bc2I/giphy.gif[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Private Hangar in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico [hr][hr][/center]

	Caesar caught enough presence of mind to wipe his face before focusing his attention back to the two women accompanying him, and of course the priest standing in front of them all. [color=orangered]"Gracias."[/color] he said dismissively, but immediately changed mood into something a little more like his old self. Kinda. To begin, he answered Dr. Brinne's question, steering the conversation back to English. 

	[color=orangered]"Benicio is my little brother. I don't go to church much."[/color] A bit terse, perhaps, but at least Caesar was back in the here and now. He reached out and took the papers from Natasha, giving them a quick study. The even and flowing voice of Benicio reached out to Caesar, as did his hand. "[b]I told you, everything is arranged. I am personally overseeing this.[/b]" The elder Gonzalez, with minimal reluctance, passed the paperwork over to Benicio. "[b]A Doctor and a Forensics lady, both of which do not work for my brother. He must have a better class of friends than the last time we spoke. Please, all of you, take rest in the company limousine. You will find refreshment and excellent air conditioning inside. But first, do you have any questions?[/b]" His grasp of English, the subtleties, accent, etc. hinted at a person who spent more time around English speakers than Caesar, despite the scarier man's obvious fluency. 

	Again, Caesar grunted, this time nodding his head back to the bags of personal effects still in the airplane baggage compartment. He noticed Natasha's weakened state, offering, [color=orangered]"You two go ahead. It's safe."[/color] As safe as anything was, these days. [color=orangered]"I'll get the bags."[/color] 






[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/9c/ba/f3/9cbaf3be02b57676c6708b37c484110a.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Mr. Burrito [hr][hr][/center]

	The first round of tacos went down like a trailer in tornado alley, with about as much drama involved. Platter after platter succumbed to the combined assault of Keystone and the Seattle Tech Team, who had pretty much monopolized the seating in the area. Not so much because they were spread out over a wide area, more that the noise they were making and the rate with which they horked back various Tex-Mex delicacies was frightening to behold. The main culprits behind this were Keystone (naturally), Ibanez, and curiously, the slender looking lady of the group, Vinters. The remaining two held their own, but mostly kept returning to the window to get more food for the Beasts at Table Five. Of course, part of the reason for potential customers to avoid the area was because they were similarly dressed in tactical gear and most of them were openly armed. But so long as they kept ordering and paying, it didn't seem to bother the proprietors much. So far, anyway. 

	Between bites, the group engaged in small talk, determined not to discuss direct business until they got behind secure walls and could provide their own countermeasures. It was also policy, and these guys seemed to stick to any chunks of company policy or common sense that aided in their own safety. Simple talk, questions about background and specialties. Between rounds of Grade Nacho platters, Keystone regaled them with the odd, short telling of his time in mainland China. Rumors of how he spent his time while out that way had circulated back to the people in MSS, and he was filling them in on what parts were fact and what parts were stretched to make a good story. Not as much was stretched as they would have thought. 

	[color=b8860b]"...right, so's when I knocked the rotten bitchfist unconscious-like, I went an' started beatin' the other bloke 'alf to death with 'im. Swung 'im like a bloody cricket bat, I did. Afters, I posed 'em both in positions most undignified an' put the photos on m'Facebook. Yeah. You know, you lot're alright. I gotta hit the airport again, end o'business, pick up a few more buggers from m'old stompin' grounds. East End Londoners, hard fightin' bunch. I expect we'll all get along swimmin'ly."[/color] 

	[color=b8860b]"So, who wants flan?"[/color]