The spire of the Holy Name Cathedral towered above the city of Chicago. A symbol of hope and peace, the sturdy bricks had stood for for over fifty years, and would likely stand for another fifty. The large bronze cathedral doors stood open, the carving of the tree of life comforting, and ironic given what he was here for. Joyner walked inside the Cathedral, a slight shiver moving down his spine as he locked eyes with the large crucifix behind the alter. Tearing his eyes away from the figure of the son of god, he looked down at the man he had considered his own son. HJis jaw tightening, he forced himself forward towards the casket. 

The church was quiet, except for an occasional muffled cough, or sniffle of a mourner. Nodding his head at those he knew, Joyner made his way to Dean. Glancing up at the statue of Jesus again, he crossed himself and muttered a silent prayer to all the fallen, before turning his attention to the one he had come to see. 

He laid there in one of his finest suits, his hair as tidy as it had ever been, and somehow even in death he had that boyish charm and a slight smirk on his face, as if everything was a joke, even when it was something he took seriously. Joyner didn't know what to do with his hands, normally he would stop and pay his respects and move on to a pew for the service, but he felt like this deserved so much more than that. 

As he stood there, one of the pipe organs from the west end of the building began to play. The low notes expressed the sorrow he was feeling, and he bowed his head in silence, waiting for the words to come to him. Being so lost in thought the sound of her shoes did not register, and it wasn't until her voice said his name that he was even aware Grace was there. 

She hated funerals, they were boring and accomplished nothing that a good drink and a few hours in front of a sketch pad couldn't fix. But someone in her postion, or rather her former postion, had appearances that need to be kept up. When JoynerLucas walked in she watched him. They hadn't spoken in days it seemed, something created a gulf in their friendship. Looking towards the casket she knew what it was. 

She let him mourn alone for a few minutes before joining him. "He'd have liked this place," she said. "I had to pull some favors to have the service here." as she so often did when she got excited, her hands started moving, and if there was one thing she loved talking about it was buildings and absolutely not hers or anyone elses feelings. "This place has some amazing history to it, the gothic revival style mixed with just a touch of modern so it wouldn't seem completely out of place with the city around it." 

"And the cornerstone," she paused glancing at him, "Its the first stone you lay in the foundation. It has to be strong in order to carry the weight of the building, in order for it to survive," she said as an explanation, "Well this one was first laid in 1871, but a few years ago one of the former gangs in the northside, a member was gunned down. The cornerstone still has the bullet marks!" she said before realizing not everyone got as excited about her when it came to history and bricks. 

"Sorry," she said softly placing a hand on his arm. "It was a metaphor and then, well.." she shrugged, she was herself and at the moment she was barely holding herself together. 

Kanzi was waiting outside for the ceremony to end as he had lost someone very close to him, as did many other lose someone close to them not so long ago