[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Caesar[/color] & [color=darkgoldenrod]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img][/img][hr][b][color=dimgray]Location:[/color][/b] Chicago (Grimaldi Books)
[b][color=ff4500]Skills:[/color][/b] Observation, Seek The Guilty (Investigation) 
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] Observation, Security Procedures [hr][hr][/center]

	Keystone didn't answer the book lady. His curiosity as to her innate knowledge of his country or origin was baffling to him just that second, or at least he assumed that was the case considering she rather snidely offered [i]tea[/i]. Briefest of consideration weighed that he really wouldn't have declined a decent cup of Builder's right then, but the mystery of her conclusion, however correct it was, irked him. Perhaps she was using an app on her phone that routed into the exterior cameras. Maybe they had sound. Rarer, but these things happened. It shouldn't matter one way or the other. Tiny, irksome mystery that had nothing to do with their reason for being there. As he was from before the moment he entered the building, Keystone remained silent and deferred to the will of his employer. 

	Sadly, the will of his employer was geared toward the socially blunt, almost totally working in the direction opposite his intent. It was not so much precisely what he said, more than it was the body language and method of speech that was weighing him down. Caesar dipped into his time when he was purely an investigator and agent of the Mexican Federal Police, and acted accordingly. The first thing he did was respond to the lady's offer of coffee with a simple, quiet head shake, his eyes fixed upon hers the entire time. A simple sort of gesture with the intent of politely refusing that looked more like he was waiting for a moment to begin barking at her like a deranged, foamy Rottweiler. 

	Caesar leaned forward and set his public identification on the counter before him with a deliberate popping sound, issuing from the plastic slapping upon the smooth surface. [color=ff4500]"I didn't mean to cause trouble, investigating your ex-husband's murder."[/color] He sighed in a manner that suggested irritation, [color=ff4500]"If sating your curiosity is the price of this conversation, fine. It's because I believe his death and my daughter's are connected. As are so many other murders. [i]Very[/i] recently."[/color] He continued to view the woman with slightly narrowed eyes. The attempt to maintain an act of objective professionalism destined for abrupt failure, Caesar considered the fact that they might have just completely wasted their time in coming here. 

	Keystone meanwhile seemed oblivious to what was going on around him, merely staring in the general direction of the woman fixing coffee and the back of Caesar's head. If he had the ability to support or curtail his boss's words, he certainly seemed unwilling at the moment. The mystery of the lady's psychic powers might have preoccupied his thoughts, or possibly his last encounter with American tea. To be honest, the concept of massively strong, heavily sweetened tea, served iced and in a tall glass appealed to him. Among the majority of his fellow Londoners it was near to blasphemy, but he kept an open mind. In hindsight, it was a fortuitous stopover that his plane made in Atlanta, when he was en route to Justice, California for the first time. Such were his thoughts, and likely would be still if the building caught fire around him.