[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 (Outside of Grimaldi Books)
[b][color=ff4500]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	The discussion between the two security professionals outside of the highly specialized bookstore was the very picture of film noir drama, complete with accents not overly common to the Greater Chicago Area and long coats worn by the men exchanging the dialogue. If the world were suddenly deprived of the fuller spectrum of light and color, reducing visibility to mere greyscale, it would have made for a fine piece of classic cinema. Perhaps it one of them puffed on a lit cigarette and the wind carried a thin line of smoke that could be followed as a segue to the next supporting scene... but neither of them did. Caesar, once upon a time, but gave up the habit years and years ago. Still, the overall tone of their conversation was at contrast to the men and women elsewhere upon the street, simply carrying on their business and, quite possibly, trying to avoid eye contact. 

	Once the decision was made upon where the older Mexican wanted to hit next, there came an awkward couple seconds of silence as the two of them, Keystone and Caesar, could have sworn that they had forgotten [i]something[/i], though for the life of them it was beyond their scope to process except for the realization that there was a detail unaddressed. Thankfully, the answer came bounding out of the door to Grimaldi books immediately afterward. She even looked like she had positive news. Keystone looked at the woman with an amount of incredulity before piping up, [color=b8860b]"Wow, someone fished a tansy cake out o' the crapper, then didn't they, eh?"[/color] 

	Caesar gave his own perplexed look to his junior partner on this little expedition, curious as to whether this was a common British idiom or if the man made it up himself. Giving it consideration, he'd voiced several such oddities over the course of the time that Caesar had known the man, each equally as confusing as it was colorfully descriptive. For all he knew, Keystone stayed up late at night just figuring out new things to say in the hopes that someone would finally put him out of his misery. The older man did admittedly have a sudden urge to strangle him. He made a mental note to ask Keystone what a tansy cake was later on. His first action, however, was to recover his satphone and place a quick phone call to the MSS Chicago office. [color=ff4500]"Payroll. Gonzalez. Si."[/color] He tapped the toe of his engineer boot on the sidewalk four or five times before speaking again, [color=ff4500]"Yes. Standard salary increase in addition to the annual, to be applied immediately. Claire McManus. Cite for her file. Email to confirm. Gracias."[/color] He placed his phone back into his pocket and turned to the somewhat animated woman, [color=ff4500]"Message me with the account information and I'll wire the money immediately. Thank you."[/color] 

	Keystone casually slipped a business card in Claire's direction. They would apparently have to be in touch, and he wanted to take the initiative before channels had to be referenced or, heaven forbid, they had to go through the local office. [color=b8860b]"Ya know, you're bloody alright for a Beantown Mick, lemme tellya. Cheers then, Miss."[/color] He nudged Caesar with his elbow, following up with, [color=b8860b]"Was there somethin' else, Boss?"[/color] 

	[color=ff4500]"Yeah."[/color] said Caesar, albeit distantly. When all of this settled down, if he was still alive, he was going to institute mandatory annual psychiatric evaluations and CAT scans for all Special Projects agents in his company, starting with Keystone. [color=ff4500]"Is there a church nearby, that you know of? Catholic, I mean."[/color]