[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://cdn.movieweb.com/img.news.tops/NEvyrxPbk7zLyD_2_b/Inmate-Number-1-Movie-Danny-Trejo-Documentary.jpg[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] La Hacienda [hr][hr][/center]

	The small, blue-eyed life in Caesar's arms looked content, just being supported by his abuelo and grabbing a handful of hair. Caesar could comfort himself with the fact that his line did not die with his daughter; would not die with him. He did notice a trend in his family as of late, evident in the features of his grandson and niece. Apparently, lighter skin and higher cheekbones was becoming the norm. He viewed the situation with more objectivity than he thought he might, though in all honesty it wasn't exactly a thing that took up any meaningful amount of his consideration. Add to it that it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that he had illegitimate sons and daughters out there somewhere, being that he had a well-founded history containing acts of promiscuity. Epic promiscuity, and he payed little mind to ethnicity. It made sense that his progeny wouldn't care, either. So long as the spirit of La Familia Gonzalez remained, everything else was mere detail. The little boy that he cradled was a truly adorable little guy. That was all that mattered. 

	But he was still going to kick much Limey ass when he got back to California. Then welcome him into La Familia. 

	The response from Maria was noted with surprise. Caesar had dumped a formidable amount of information on her. It was a lot to take in at once, and were this anyone else, he would not have been as quick to open up. Despite how they ended their marriage, years ago, he did trust the woman enough with something this important. He knew that Maria wouldn't screw him over out of revenge for a petty squabble. He knew that she wasn't going to steal from him or his company. What he [i]didn't[/i] know was that she would accept his offer to take over as the Director of the Justice branch of MSS [i]immediately[/i]. And her terms? He remembered why he married her, so long ago. [color=orangered]”I will bring the person responsible to you, damaged but not broken, if I at all can. When we’re done here in Monterrey, we can all fly back to Justice. Really get to work. You just let me know what you’re going to need. I’ll have it waiting when we get there.”[/color] 

        [color=orangered]”Gracias, Maria. Just know, what we do is very dangerous.”[/color] 

	[i]Meanwhile, one floor up...[/i] 

	The young lady halted her egress from Cecily and Natasha's room following Cecily's statement about not knowing "[i]what that means[/i]", amid the unceasing laughter of Natasha. They had only been involved in a marginal conversation at best, so not a whole lot of ground had been covered. With a hint of confusion, the priest's daughter cautiously began to respond, "Oh! Oh girl, umm... That's kinda sheltered, isn't it?" She seemed nervous, but determined to explain for the good of her new acquaintance. The open mirth admittedly made it a little difficult. "Okay, well. [i]Fucking[/i] means, specifically ah... Okay, it's like this: When a man and a woman love each other [i]very much[/i], or at least have some measure of drunk attraction for each other,” 

	She stuck out one finger and began slowly moving it toward a circle made from the thumb and forefinger of her other hand, continuing, "they have this Special Hug, that feels [i]really ni[/i]... Wait a minute." She stopped, clapping her hands down at her sides and taking on a "deer in headlights" appearance. Natasha had stopped giggling (for the most part), and was answering Cecily’s question in a way that made so much more sense than what she was doing. "You really meant the worm thing, didn't you? Shit. Okay, yeah. Sorry. Means we have a private bar up here, and I'm going to have a few shots of mescal. It's an exaggeration. Take a look at one of those bottles with me and you'll know what we’re talking about. It’s a cultural imperative."

	Taking a glance over to Natasha, she nodded, asking, "Hey, you sure you’re okay? No shame in resting after a long flight." She had been witness to the fatigue that Natasha displayed in the limousine and had noticed a few details. While she didn't know exactly what was up, she did admire the woman's snark in the face of whatever troubled her. 




[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] Queensguard Industries R&D, Security Hub [hr][hr][/center]

	Every single sharpened pencil in Keystone's office had found its way into a single rectangle of drop ceiling conveniently located directly over his desk chair. They were individually hurled up there by the painfully schoolboyish lout, victims of his growing boredom at having been [i]on hold[/i] for what seemed like eternity. Still listening to classic rock over the office phone, he hit the "speaker" button and leaned back in his chair, staring at the inverted, miniature forest of pink-tipped octagonal yellow cylinders. He wondered absently if gravity defying, tiny little pencil-forest gnomes would make a home of it. And why not? They deserved a spot to call their own. Then he got the idea that squatters were expressly forbidden by contract in the secure facility. Sighing, Keystone picked up a notepad and made ready to whack the ceiling tile, hoping that the pencils would dislodge without putting one of his eyes out. 

	Just before he made his valiant effort to recover his pencils, someone picked up the other end of the phone line and answered with a brisk, "Hello?", waylaying his writing utensil recovery plans but getting him back on track to conduct actual business. [color=b8860b]"Ello ello, 'bout soddin' time. Right then, whatcha got for me?"[/color] 

	"Yes, Mr. Keystone. Legal has looked over your request, and we all are in agreement."

		[color=b8860b]"Yeah, and?"[/color]

	"And we have all agreed that you, Johnathon Keystone, are the interim Director of the branch in Justice, California."

		[color=b8860b]"Yeah, you lot suck. What about my question?"[/color] The level of annoyance was rising in his voice.

	"Of course. We have also agreed that this is a question for Marketing. Legal sees no issue in conflict here. Transferring you now."

		[color=b8860b]"I bloody 'ate you all."[/color] But it was too late. The hold music was beginning to take his soul again.