[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=ff4500]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/424b465b1072abb78a0508b245081ce5/tumblr_oypjflaikd1sz5kv9o2_250.gif[/img][hr][b] [color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Chicago (Grimaldi Books)
[b][color=ff4500]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A[hr][hr][/center]

	Though Caesar had every intention of getting into the company vehicle and getting the hell out of Chicago as quickly as was possible, considering the situation, it was simply not so. His feet seemed to move unbidden of his better judgement, performing a full U-turn and carrying him back in the direction of the building he had just exited. It surprised him about as much as anybody, especially after announcing his plans to write this detour off as a wasted hour of his life and move onto something that at least [i]partly[/i] looked like it was attached to his daughter's death, but it was as if a force greater than his own sense of self-determination intervened, moving him with a will that was strong enough to gently push his actions to the contrary of his initial judgement; kismet perhaps, or fate, or merely the universe telling him that this event was a fixed point in time and could not be circumvented. 

	It was very possible that he was just bitter. Depressed at the remarkable turns of events that continually took from him, over and over and over without sense nor discernible reason whatsoever, of having his life's work penetrated at whim by parties unknown despite massive precautions put into place. Perhaps it was a sense of an overall lack of control of his own life, his own business, and the lack of security that was highly ironic, considering the business he was in. These facts may have contributed to him really, really wanting to ignore the mysteriously typed words that appeared in the Justice branch's Security Hub and later in his private plane. To hell with whomever decided to communicate with him in that manner. 

	But he couldn't just [i]ignore[/i] the words altogether. It had to mean something, even if he had no clear idea of what he was even doing in this area of the country in the first place. This was all building to some purpose or event. Regardless of the continual insult and setbacks, he had to attempt to find out what that was. And so, Caesar found himself waving down Keystone as he passed, giving a quick message of, [color=ff4500]"Don't eat my food yet. Out in a minute."[/color] His voice was a low, gravelly sound that, while clear enough to understand, did sound preoccupied. 

	Once inside, Caesar pulled out his company sat phone and keyed up a corporate app for direct payment options. He authorized a quick, one time payment and punched in numbers appropriate to the last conversation he had with the proprietress, and then set it, screen down, in front of himself at the front counter. The idea of doing business in a place looked after by Wentworth made him definitely feel like this was a huge setup, start to finish; just another mistake culminating in yet another graphic and outstanding loss on his part, but what else was there to do? Like everything else, it felt like a trap. Well, one more to fall into, he supposed. All he needed was a number on the "receiving" end of the transaction, and they were in business. 

	God help them all. 

[img][/img]


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]J. Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://i.iplsc.com/mariusz-pudzianowski-wystapi-w-nowym-show-polsatu-fot-p-przy/00049K1GXS9WQ239-C122-F4.jpg[/img][hr][b]
[color=darkgoldenrod]Location:[/color][/b] Chicago (Outside of Grimaldi Books)
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Meanwhile, Keystone was left almost completely unsure as to what he was supposed to be doing. Was he going in as a bodyguard? Hanging back with the lady he thought might be his Chicago counterpart? Hopping back in the vehicle and giving it a solid wait until his boss (who he was beginning to think was on the verge of a breakdown with the way he kept changing his mind, complete with seesawing mood swings) decided to saunter back? Was he actually going to shell out the money after the decision he had just made? Whether or not the reputation of the business had taken a hit from the obviously setup murder at Queensguard's facility, flip-flopping like this definitely made them look weak. It was something that, strategically, he didn't want to portray. Blood in the water brought out the sharks. 

	Lacking a proper course of action, Keystone just stood near the car like a big, meaty goober, holding so much Chinese takeout that he couldn't even partake a little for himself. His gaze lingered on Caesar for an empty few seconds after he disappeared back into the doors of the establishment before giving Claire a response to her opinion of the old man thusfar in their acquaintance. [color=b8860b]"Aw yeah, tops sort of fella. Bloody prince, that'n. I'm just wishin' I knew what goes through 'is bloody head sometimes, is all."[/color] He shrugged, and started ambling in the direction of the car.