[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] Grimm, Indiana (Outside of El Asilo/The Nuthouse!)
[b][color=ff4500]Skills:[/color][/b] Shotgun
[b][color=b8860b]Skills:[/color][/b] Pistol [hr][hr][/center]

	Keystone wasn't the type to suffer fools, even if he was the one being foolish. Naturally, he didn't [i]think[/i] that he was being particularly foolish, preferring as he did the concept of removing himself from this place and going elsewhere. I mean, there were noncombatants to think about, not to mention that there was a [i]THING FROM A HENTAI HORROR MOVIE[/i] coming after them all. That might have been enough for most people, general principle alone. Now, Keystone was no coward. He'd proven this on many occasions. This was just throwing him for a loop, as was the mostly calm civility that most everyone was showing to one another, like the aristocracy from way back in the day sharing cucumber sandwiches and sipping tea while placing wagers while their armies of peasants killed one another. From a safe distance, of course. 

	Come to think of it, the big guy really could go for a decent plate of cucumber sandwiches. With curried mayonnaise. Maybe a couple with sundried tomatoes for a little extra oomph. But no, he was holding a 50 caliber hand cannon on an Eldritch Horror, hoping that the damn thing was going to listen to reason. And by "reason" he meant "hastily delivered ammunition". And by "delivered" he meant "Fuck all I'm gonna shoot this bastich". 

	Just before he pulled the trigger, an astute listener might have heard him rationalizing the situation and focusing on something to get mad about simultaneously by inquiring out loud, [color=b8860b]"Bloody 'ell's [i]my cucumber sandwiches[/i], right?"[/color] Any possible response might have been drowned out by the bark of his pistol. 

	Meanwhile Caesar had very little in the way of misgivings or concern for his own life, quite possibly, but like his more burly compatriot, he did wish to attend to the lives of others. His manner of doing that was a little different than Keystone's. While the younger man would have preferred discretion and controlling the circumstances of their encounter, Caesar favored the messier, if more direct route. He gave a glance toward Priya, advising her [color=ff4500]"You talk too much,"[/color] with a growl before emptying the chamber of his shotgun into the beast above. 

	Any further attempt at conversation on his part was stymied by a further piece of advice, this from the old man's daughter, to [i]Duck[/i] and [i]Cover[/i]. It was heeded by both men, as the dead chick hurled the improvised explosive like a champ into the hole, bowling over the hideous thing with a sense of slapsticky charm. Caesar risked a half second to appreciate the throw - he certainly couldn't have done it better, himself, before Keystone grabbed him and pulled him down behind the vehicle they were using as cover. 

	There was something about a really good explosion that brought people together just as much as it blew others apart.