Caesar Gonzalez
Location: Justice Asylum -> His Apartment (Boston Heights)
Following closely behind Keystone and Cecily, the elder Gonzalez made his way back to his trike. He had experienced quite enough for one day. Or one month. Or a lifetime, really, of some of the most amazingly dramatic and/or conflicting set of circumstances that had ever befallen mankind, aside from the horrors of Generra Hypercolor sports apparel from days long passed. And his night wasn't quite over with, either.
As the massive Brit and young Coroner climbed into their mode of transportation for the evening, Keystone's big black Ramcharger. He gave a silent affirmation to the man, one of the few people he could trust in an increasingly violent and dark city; one that had already taken from him more than he thought possible. The piece of his soul that was pulled from him at the death of his daughter was still raw, gaping; but it was slowly and surely being covered over with a hard shell that, if left to complete itself, would calcify what compassion remained of him, reducing him into nothing more than a dedicated being of blood and anger, cutting his way through a sea of flesh until death finally claimed him by means of accident, misadventure, or the slow decay of time finally slowing him enough so that a younger, more able opponent finally took him down. Nothing could fill that gap, but killing a
whole fucking lot of people responsible for his loss would be an okay start.
Hopefully, none of those things would happen before he was finished interring Alicia and learning what message she left for him. Tomorrow, he traveled for Monterrey, Nueva Leon, Mexico. Right now, he traveled for his temporary home here in Justice.
Caesar pulled up to his building in Boston Heights and removed the saddlebags from his trike. There was some caution as he went into his apartment; weapons were within excellent stabbing and/or shooting reach, but part of him felt raw and beaten enough to almost welcome an attack. Nevertheless, he entered his empty feeling home and sat down in the dark for a long time. How long was anyone's guess, but he needed a long, long moment of quiet. After a while, he rose, pulling out one of his many sharp objects, and slowly made his way over to the fridge for a beer. It was like this that Caesar conducted a search of his house, much in the same manner that he and Cecily did a quick search of Alicia's office at the private airstrip near the docks.
Eventually, Caesar found himself sitting in a recliner in his living room, gun sitting on the table beside him and several sharp things at his disposal. He clutched an empty beer bottle in one hand, and the only illumination in the room filtered in from the streetlamps outside. Maybe he'd catch a little sleep. Maybe not. All he had to do was make it onto the plane, anyway. First class has such lovely seats for napping, and it promised to be a long flight.
Cecily & Keystone
Location: On The Road Again -> Cecily's Apartment (Boston Heights) -> Keystone's Apartment (Chicago Heghts)
Instead of adding Cecily's order to the gargantuan lineup of Italian entrees, Keystone amended a portion of his selection for the evening. His eyes fixed on his comparatively tiny passenger, the brute-seeming man backtracked his conversation with a casual,
"Y'know what, change that penne to a spaghetti, if ya would." and turned to Cecily with the whisper of
"Gots to watch m'girlish figure, yeah? Hey, d'you like vinaigrette? 'Ell of a balsamic there..." he paused for a moment, listening to a stream of words from the other end of that conversation.
"Yuh huh. Be there in a few." Cecily chuckled slightly at Keystone's comical nature. She nodded at liking vinaigrette, having truthfully never found a salad dressing that she disliked all together. And of course, she could hardly imagine Keystone's figure as ever being called girlish--though perhaps in comparison to the bodybuilder that lived at the Boston Heights, then maybe. Both of them were rather brobdingnagian, after all.
The big man ended his call and pulled into the streets of Justice, headed away from the Asylum and the drama therein.
"So, you got a plan for the evenin', or are we puttin' the wing to 'er?" "Er....Well I need to grab my passport and things from my apartment, but my roommate texted me to avoid going there if at all possible," Cecily explained.
"So if you wouldn't mind, maybe we could head there so I can grab some things? I s'pose I could sleep at the lab--wouldn't be the first time." Keystone gave her a nod and an affirming grunt, driving onward to the same restaurant that he, Cecily, and Caesar had left earlier in the evening. There was a small wait for their order despite the relative quiet of the restaurant; it seemed that they had arrived earlier than expected. Keystone used the opportunity to speak to the young lady in his company.
"Oi, Miss Cecily..." he started quietly,
"Boss told me to keep you safe. As I'm hearin' it, whatever problems you got know where you're employed, yeah? Your lab's right out." He sighed a little, unsure as to how his next sentence would be taken.
"After we stop by your flat and get your things, might be that you should bunk on my couch for the night. I've even got a decent bottle of Lambrusco that'd fit supper just perfect." "Nuthin' ungenlemanlike intended, o'course." Cecily felt relieved at Keystone's offer. As an individual who didn't quite feel sexual attraction and lived with her friend, William, for most of college, she was a bit oblivious to any rumors that could start, sleeping on Keystone's couch in an area heavily populated by cops she worked with. She had already been shot once that day and didn't intend to make a habit of it.
"That actually would be brilliant, thanks," Cecily replied.
"Definitely safer than the morgue and I'm young. I don't mind a couch." "Right, don't mention at all. Let's go get supper, then." Keystone returned to the counter to procure large bags containing temporary aluminum containers, paper napkins, and plastic flatware. He gave it a quick once-over, comparing what resided inside of the to-go containers to his actual order, and, satisfied with the food, gave the hostess a vigorous nod.
"Anything else while we're 'ere? Soda, tea, tiramisu on-the-fly? Company account, y'see, an' they know I'm a big eater." "I'm good, thanks," Cecily replied. She'd just get some water later, probably healthier anyways.
His only misgiving was that there were four Styrofoam containers of salad, and a like amount of bread with compound butter. After a grief conversation involving minimal hand waving, he was assured that because he placed multiple orders of food, he received multiple helpings of side items. A shrug and a Cockney accented
"Eh, sod it..." later, Keystone hefted the bags and walked back out to the Ramcharger. Along the way, he made a quick appraisal of their situation.
"Okay then, Miss Cecily. Your place first. Keep just behind me, I'll sweep the place once we get there, and guard the exit 'til you're good to go. When it's time to leave, I'll carry as much as you need me to, s'long as my gun hand's free. Just in case, y'understand. You exit the car last and get in first, after I secure the area. We good?" "Sounds good," Cecily nodded, her eyes a little bit wide at all of the precautions. It was another reminder of how her brain thought differently than Keystone's. It wouldn't have occurred to her to have a set order for leaving and entering the car, but she trusted Keystone and the idea was a sound one. Then of course, she also wasn't too certain what items one brought with them when on the run. She was an expert at air ports and moving, having been jostled around throughout her childhood, but that didn't prepare her too much for this.
By the time Keystone pulled into the Boston Heights, Cecily had assembled a rough list of items that she'd need to bring with her to Mexico. The most important being, of course, her passport. As much as she disliked shopping, it was all that she'd really need for travel. Clothes could be purchased later, after all. She glanced over towards Keystone, waiting for him to secure the area. Once that was done, she was true to her word and kept close behind him, goosebumps running up and down her arm as they made it to the apartment.
The way into the apartment was clear, or at least clear enough according to the general ambiance of Justice, California. That was to say that while the way looked clear, blinds weren't ajar in dark windows, there were few if any obscured niches, no strange, unmarked vans, and light sources were bright and stable, the chances of something unfortunate happening were probably equal to it not. Nonetheless, Keystone was the consummate guarder of bodies and kept a thorough as possible. As soon as they were inside the building, the big man drew his Desert Eagle and motioned for Cecily to unlock her door and step away.
The moment he door was open, Keystone quietly stepped inside. Seconds ticked by ponderously, turning to minutes, when the big man poked his head back out of the door and waved her inside. With the door closed and locked, Keystone stayed near it, gun still drawn but pointing toward the floor at a readied but held position. He had closed all curtains and blinds, and only turned on lights of interior rooms.
"Place's clear, Miss. Let's not dawdle, grab what you need and keep speech to a minimum. You see somethin' out of place, you don't say a word, just come back out to me and we're gone. Lemme know if I can grab anythin' for ya." "I'll pack light, I don't think I'll need you to carry anything," Cecily explained, pulling out a well used suitcase from underneath her bed. She threw inside of it the changes of clothes she'd need, a lab coat, her laptop, and then the first volume of
Jessica Jones: Alias. She hesitated slightly over whether or not to bring the little stuffed cat she had had since she was little, before tossing that into the mix as well. Zipping up the suitcase, she left her bedroom and rejoined Keystone.
"Good to go?" inquired Keystone quietly.
"I'm all set," Cecily answered. She still had the forensics kit she had packed earlier with her, allowing the young coroner to analyze anything on the fly. She had a feeling it might be useful. And her pistol, once kept at home, had been on her person since this entire business began.
"Good, back to it, then. Food's gettin' cold." He motioned for her to stay just behind him, did a routine scout of his car and beneath it, then opened the door for Cecily and waited for her to climb in.
The ride back to his place was uneventful, with the exception that the smell of fine Italian food had permeated the vehicle's interior, prompting all manner of unholy sounds to issue from Keystone's abdomen. Yet he did not go beyond the speed limit listed for the area, nor did he make any illegal turns, nor anything else that may draw attention to them. It seemed very anticlimactic when they pulled up to his Chicago Heights apartment and disembarked, Keystone showing a similar (but not quite as urgent) sense of concern about security.
Inside, the large man locked up his place tight and began to set out food. The apartment itself was not particularly opulent, by any stretch of the imagination, certainly not the standard home of an Acting Director of the Justice Branch of a multinational private security firm, but it was comfortable enough for a big lug like J. Keystone. The kitchen looked both well appointed and well used, yet everything was immaculately clean. Perhaps most importantly, there was a big, comfy couch in the living room with a large coffee table and decent television nearby.
"Make yourself at 'ome, Miss Cecily." he said, offering her a wine glass and setting an opened bottle of sweet Lambrusco on the table in front of it.
"I'll get your supper on a proper plate, then. Put somethin' on TV if you like, if y'ain't partial to nothin' particular, news is fine." "Thank you," Cecily said, taking the wine glass and sitting on the couch. Oh, for a fangirl to be given the option to decide what went on the television. There were plenty of shows she loved to watch.
Lucifer was headed for its finale in just a week or so, with
the Big Bang Theory having just finished about a week back.
Gotham was close as well, though Cecily had fallen a bit behind with the show. For a moment, she was almost paralyzed with choices. Hell, part of her was tempted to put on
X-Men: the Animated Series after her earlier conversations with Roy, but she watched that one semi-legally online to avoid paying for it. She doubted Keystone would appreciate that. And while she was partial to
Game of Thrones, the new season wouldn't be out for a while yet.
Well, there was
Hannibal...She had always been meaning to get to the second season of it. But that went back to her earlier issue. Eventually, Cecily finally managed to make up her mind and put on
iZombie, feeling a bit nostalgic for grey Seattle skies herself.
"Ever seen iZombie? It's about a zombie who eats brains and solves murders," Cecily explained, looking at Keystone for permission practically to put it on.
Keystone walked out of the kitchen carrying a their food and set it down on the coffee table. He took a seat on the other end of the couch from Cecily and handed her an actual, non takeout fork. Casually, he filled his and Cecily's wine glass and settled in for his meal.
"Eatin' brains and solvin' murders, eh? Caught me an episode or two from Season One. Been meanin' t'get back to it, I have. DVR should carry everything up ta recent. Oh yeah, if'n you're still hungry, rest is in the fridge. Take anything y'like - this's your 'ome tonight." Whereas Keystone was meaning to get a huge chunk of rest in preparation for the next day, he was almost positive that he would have to brew his morning coffee with Red Bull instead of water when dawn finally broke. He immediately scarfed down a ravioli or two and took a sip of wine, then raised a finger to indicate that he had a point to make as soon as a swallow could be effected.
"You're gonna 'ave to explain some stuff as we go on, then." "Gotcha," Cecily nodded eagerly, probably the most cheerful she had been for a while.
"Y'know, it's actually really neat. The original comics had the main character as a gravedigger. They even do a nice tribute to that, with Liv using the alias Gwen Dylan--the original character's name--at some point...It's a DC comic, too, so technically the main character could meet Batman one day..." Cecily said, practically gushing as the episode began to play.
Yeah, it might be a late night at the Casa Keystone.
Five episodes later...
The young coroner's eyes were barely open at this point, otherwise she would've had a much more noticeable reaction to the protagonist of the show acting and dressing like a dominatrix. But as it was, Cecily was a lightweight and the wine had had quite the affect on her. She hadn't a clue what time it was and was hardly cognizant. Her head was propped up against the armrest of the couch, and by the time Liv snapped the whip, Cecily was fast asleep. No doubt she'd have some weird ass dreams that night.
