Morningstar Manor

Morning, earlyish, and Leo was in the Mocha drinking tea while he opened his mail. There was rather a lot of it - tea and mail both.

#

Mid morning and Allan dragged himself down to the lobby and stood blinking at the sunlight outside. "I shouldn't have gone to that shebeen las' night," he said. "I got a headache - an' my ass hurts."

"Too much information," Vincenzo said.

"Aww shit I don't mean like that," Allan protested. He scowled and rubbed his back just below his jeans waistband, hitching up his tee-shirt.

Vincenzo stared then looked hurriedly away. "I - er - wouldn't rub that if I were you," he said. "It's a scratch. Looks nasty."

"Ah, right. I'll get Leena to put something on it," Allan said and took a deep breath before plunging out into the goddammed sunshine.

#

Lunchtime and Vincenzo was in the conservatory eating a roll and snickering into his phone as he talked to Enzo. "No honest," he said, "he had no idea at all."

#

Gil crossed the Square, heading for the Flamingo Lounge. He was pale and had dark shadows under his eyes and was looking forward to being able to sleep again without dreaming of that bloody chunk of human flesh dripping in his kitchen.

He shuddered. wishing that he didn't have to be the capable, reassuring one. Sometimes being grown up sucked.

#

Charlie left the gallery in the early evening and paused to look up at the angel statue. The past two days he had worked hard and had caught up with about half the paperwork from the past week. Another two days and he could start on this weeks. There was a kind of satisfaction in that, if he studied it objectively.

Not much, but a little.

Serving lunches was just about over and Gil was looking forward to taking a breather. Meantime, at the very least, they could all have a soda. Cooking was hot in this weather.

"Lucas," he called as he headed for the fridge. "Want a Coke? Pepsi? Seven-up?"

After a swift phone call to make sure his quarry was at home, Gil headed down to Joel's gaffe with a large tupperware container filled with the samples of the type of thing usually required at house parties. He also had wine lists, spirits list, mixer lists and costings for various menus in various grades of lavishness.

Laden like a worker ant - but then most cooks were stronger than they looked - he rapped on Joel's door.

[ooc: better late than never, eh?]

Joel decided Friday later afternoon/early evening to walk down to the Flamingo lounge.  It was not far from the Manor.  He had written Gil’s name down and wanted to introduce himself and talk to him for a few moments before the evening crowd came in.

He enjoyed the warm air and made his way down the street, window shopping as he went.  He was slowly relaxing into his new life.  He missed London, but this choice was for the best.

Joel stepped into the foyer and looked around, heading towards the lounge.  He asked the bartender if Gil was in, and that Joel Castilloux was there to meet with him, a resident from the Manor.  The bartender nodded and said he would go check.

Jackson and Evans had booked leave at the same time. This happened in even the best regulated offices. When one man said his vacation was end of February and the other said his was first week of March it sometimes took a while to catch on that those dates included a common weekend. So they had drawn straws who would cover the Saturday night and Vincenzo, fuming, had picked the wrong one. It didn't help that he also had the Saturday afternoon shift as well.

But coffee would keep him going. Lots of coffee.

He stood in the queue and waited his turn, thinking about what he had planned for Emily tomorrow.

###

Fin had a book and some coffee and no commitments at all - which meant he was on edge and unhappy. He was a man who dearly loved a dead line. Also he had just had a very disturbing encounter with Andy Andrassy. He didn't dislike women in general but some were scary and she was just plain terrifying.

Lots of coffee was what he needed too.

###

Another man with a book was Leo Beck, reading through that years edition of the writer's handbook with a slightly bemused expression on his face. Occasionally he reached out and stirred his tea - which was getting cold.

###

Allan was garnering evil looks from the barista because he had been struck with a brilliant idea for a sculpture and to help the thought process was constructing a maquette out of pipecleaners and damp napkins. He always thought better if he had something to do with his hands.

###

Gil had nothing at all to do for the moment - not even a paper to read - and was enjoying the comparative silence before he had to go to work. Not that he disliked his job - he loved it - but a few moments calm before the madness was to be relished.

###

Del was less happy. He had worked last night, had a thick head, and suspected that Eris was making her mind up to move on. He'd go, of course - if she asked him to.

If.

He sipped his latte and wondered what he'd do if she didn't.

###

Charlie glowed happily as he sat in the corner and drew. Deacon was watching the sport, Nia was having tea with Aunty Andy and Unka Ekka - he snickered every time she called Erik that, and Charlie could feel the gentle pressure of his little collar under the fold of the scarf swathing his neck.

He smiled across the Mocha, his pencil moving with confident strokes, and drew anyone who crossed his line of sight.

Emily had her outfit thought out, a lift arranged, girls invited... everything was about ready for the party on Saturday. Except that on Thursday she realized with a jolt that she had completely forgotten to make a reservation in the Flamingo Lounge.

Hoping that Gil would help a friend in need, she dialed his number and crossed her fingers.

By now the Flamingo had quite a few regular lunchtime customers, some temporary, some permanent. The staff were pleased to see them all - even if they were more pleased to see some than others.

Katie grinned as she offered Cindy a menu. "What can we get for you today?"

There was a new personality in town. On posters glued to buses, in shop windows, in ads in papers the same cheerful pastel coloured person smiled serenely out at the world and word about him began to spread.

In the whole food store in the Foundry they were putting up a display of the packets of tea amongst their usual stock. All natural ingredients, all organically produced.

Gil Wimbourne, who had popped in to get his regular order of locally grown, organic vegetables, paused and asked a question. He left the stall with a pack to try and laughed when he got back to the Flamingo and found that Erin and George had both brought in packets as well.

###

Leo's secretary waved her packet at him and said, "I tried it at the weekend. It's a lovely flavour. Not as harsh as that chai I brought in before."

Leo, who hadn't liked the previous chai at all, smiled tolerantly and nodded. "Very well," he said. "I'll give it a try. Um - does it go well with cookies?"

She chuckled and assured him that it did.

###

In the gallery Sean said, "Naaah, I'd sooner coffee," but Sadie made herself chai, mostly because she was wearing ethnic prints that day and it made her feel even more spiritual and Eastern.

###

Joy scowled at the fat little man on the packet until she tasted the brew. Then she nodded thoughtfully and chalked the words "Karma Chai - mug or pot" on the Mocha menu board.

###

In a neat residential area not far from the museum, Jimmy leaned against the workbench in the garage and watched one of his many employees measure out a quantity of leafy material and place it in a baggie. He put it on the counter beside another bag holding a teaspoon of pinkish powder.

"Thanks," Jimmy said. "So - you're the expert ..." true, though there was very little about this business Jimmy didn't know, from both sides of the user/dealer divide, "how soon?"

"This weekend," the man said. "We'll start small, but at the price you've set word will soon spread." He grinned. "It's gonna be an interesting Hallowe'en."

Jimmy nodded and picked up both bags. "Good work," he said. "You'll have a bit of a bonus this month, okay?"

"Cool," the man said and licked his lips. "Any chance of that blonde with the legs delivering it?"

Jimmy grinned. "I'll see what I can do."

The first two buildings were empty.

The shops, offices, the little hole-in-the-wall bar and the depot of assorted strangeness in the basement had all moved to new places near or around the Square.

Now, the demolition crew was inside, and Cindy was sitting outside, computer on her lap, entering detailed measurements that the static engineer was bringing out, wading through the rubble.

There was no end of disused water pipes.

Katie was waiting for him. Waiting impatiently. Gil chuckled and straightened his shirt a bit.

"He'll be here, soon," he assured her.

"Well thank God for that," she said. "Ooh - who's this?"

Ricky was sitting in the laundry room, watching three loads rotate with the hypnotised contentment of a dozing cat.

He didn't even listen to the music. He just sat there, and watched.-

"So," Gil said, "I'll do the gallery catering on Sunday morning and Katie says she doesn't mind setting it up alone as long as I help her carry it across. Charlie's staff will help her serve and I can come straight back."

George nodded. "Glad to hear it. It's getting busy." He grinned at Gil through the steam of the pan full of pasta he was cooking. "I admit I didn't think that the ol' Flamingo would make it as a restaurant but the kids love it."

Gil beamed and took up the bottle of red that had been breathing with a flourish. "Told you so," he said. "There has to be some middle ground between Burger King and haute cuisine and in the City we're it."

Working on the principle that he never cooked with any wine he wouldn't be prepared to drink, he splashed a little into two tulip glasses and offered one to George.

"To success," he said and sipped. "Ah fuck me, what IS that?"

George sipped and raised his eyebrows. "Tastes okay to me. It's our standard house red."

"Must be corked," Gil said and poured the rest away with a resigned sigh. They might be doing well but he couldn't afford to do that too often.

Thomas Avery took one last intake of the cigarette as he approached the Manor. Then he stumped it outside before striding to the glass doors and pushing them open. As the well-groomed man pulled his leather gloves off he paused in the middle of the lobby, glancing at the Mocha and then at his designer wrist watch. He still needed to change before going to work for the evening, but he was not in a hurry - there was plenty of time for an espresso and browsing through the day's paper.

Seeing someone else in the lobby, possibly with the same thought in their mind, made Thomas raised an eyebrow.