[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://i1.wp.com/hombre1.com/wp-content/uploads/stories/dt%20machete.jpg?w=1170[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] La Hacienda 
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	As the pair made their way downstairs to rejoin the viewing, they were greeted by the sight of their immediate as well as extended family in varying stages of applying ash and soot to their faces. A good many were already done and were now sporting faces painted with the white-gray ash, eyes blackened with char, done to resemble a skull over their own features. Some applied more contemporary grease paint, offering it to others only as they finished with it themselves. More often than not, though, it was the more traditional ash. It was an interesting cultural phenomenon, partly a tenuous grasp on the old beliefs before the coming of Spanish Catholics, slipping in bits of worship of Death and ancestors underneath the noses of the European priests, but mostly a comforting practice in the face of the metaphorical price that all those who live must pay for the privilege of doing so. It also gave them a sense of uniformity. They were dealing with Death by embracing it. To become one with the primal force of the universe, given representation as a Lady of unparalleled wisdom and serenity, was viewed as a noble purpose. The fact that this family very likely supplied their Lady of Immaculate Death with a steady supply of fresh recruits didn't hurt their credentials to wear her mark upon their faces. 

	Caesar and Thalia were the odd ones out, joining the viewing with their natural skin tones showing. The general consensus of opinion, based upon the knowing looks from those assembled, was to repair that situation as quickly as possible. Hence, the majority of La Famlia crowding around with their pigments of choice, making the patriarch and prodigal niece match the rest of their people. Caesar knew fully what this meant and was accepting of it. He had been to many such traditional rituals for the passing of notable members of his family. The young lady with him had not had the benefit of such experience, and as such was ...a little leery... of the idea of having multiple people put their hands on her face. By the time they were finished and handed her a mirror, her anxiety was laid to rest. It looked really damned good for the materials used. Thalia's thoughts flashed briefly toward the other reasons one may wish to don the markings of their Dama de la Muerte. Inwardly, she really hoped that they would never arise. 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]http://bodypower.loxblog.com/upload/b/bodypower/image/mariusz-pudzianowski.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Queensguard Industries R&D, Front Gate -> Elizabeth's Office
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] Leadership, Security Procedures [hr][hr][/center]

	It was an interesting trip back up to Ms. Queensguard's office, not the least of which being the odd sort of irony found among the three making the trip. Valerie Pye seemed to be very proper, even frumpy, but very much sure of herself in an aristocratic sort of way. Her man Wadsworth also seemed very proper, if given to bouts of servitude. Still very aristocratic, in a "The Butler Did It" sort of way. Meanwhile Keystone was trying very hard not to speak with too much of his underclass, Cockney accent and stand as straight as possible. He was born and raised as far away from anything resembling aristocracy as possible. The only thing they all seemed to have in common was their country of origin: They were British. And an excellent cross section of London society in all of its shimmering glory. Until you got to J. Keystone, Survivor of Slums and Women of Loose Morality. 

	It wasn't his job to make friends, however. Nor was it even his job to like these people. That would happen or it would not. It was his job to keep tabs on Caesar's holdings and points of interest while he was away tending to family matters. One of the things that he had sent word back concerning was this woman, Pye. He had skimmed while en route, and planned on taking serious notes, stirring the pot with a few questions of his own. But first, he had to get them behind closed doors, preferably without incident. Check that, definitely without incident. The last thing he needed was a cadre of fellow East Enders making life interesting. Or another pesky murder to deal with. For now, he played the role he was there to play: Security Director. [color=b8860b]"Office of Ms. Elizabeth Queensguard, ma'am. Just this way, if you'd please."[/color] Yeah, that sounded nice and official.