<div class="floatleft">(http://i247.photobucket.com/albums/gg157/onilobo/img6623_zps6c5f42cc.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Cesar "Santo Muerte" Lobos<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Private Dining Room<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Everyone seated at the table<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Custom made suit (http://www.publimetro.com.mx/_internal/gxml!0/r0dc21o2f3vste5s7ezej9x3a10rp3w$73v70o1evg91ijzyyk6q0sf0dm49b96/Screen-Shot-2013-04-15-at-8.jpeg) and a pair of skull tipped boots (http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/190/5/1/skull_boot_tip_by_erikraudi-d6coqsw.jpg)<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Arriving<hr/><br/>A light green Prius pulled up to the the restaurant, the lady behind the wheel turned and flashed the man riding shotgun a smile. "It was a pleasure Cindy." Caesar turned towards her and reclaimed the hat off the top of her head. He dug into pocket and paid her double the cost of their ride, a bonus for not asking too many questions. A quick glance at his watch alerted him he was right on time, saving him from making a bad impression.<br/><br/>Once inside he gave everyone a quick look over as he helped himself to a bottle at the bar. When he turned, he was walking back to the table with a few shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. "Let's liven things up here, is this a meeting or a funeral?" He asked with a slight smile as he eyed those at the table and began pouring and passing shots. Anyone who payed close attention to details would be able to pick out the small traces of blood splattered on his boots. Whether they were fresh or not was a question he wouldn't even acknowledge.<br/><br/>