Morningstar Manor

Bea was sipping coffee at a table by the window, wearing a necklace she thought was just gaudy enough to be awesome on a Monday afternoon and a red dress, giggling at the newest Sassy Gay Friend video she'd called up on her iPhone. There was work to be done and puppies to walk, but Bea was feeling particularly lazy and figured she wouldn't be much good to anyone without caffeine.

*

Niles was sprawled out on the couch in his usual position, blatantly taking up the whole thing as he flipped through a stack of magazines that had come in the mail that morning. There were copies of Esquire, Tattoo magazine, Maxim, and Time, but he was currently flipping holding the Spring 2011 Ikea catalog. What? He needed a new lamp.

*

Granger had taken the day off, which left him feeling a little out of sorts, but that was okay. He sat in a corner table by himself with a cup of plain black coffee and a donut he'd picked up at the Krispy Kreme on his way home from the grocery store, looking around at the people in the Mocha in between bites. He needed to spend time somewhere besides the bureau and the station, he decided somewhat distractedly.

*

Rhiannon sat at a table ignoring the cup of still-steaming coffee in front of her in favor of the little bundle of Sophie in her arms. She wasn't crying or anything and in fact was alert and awake and even attempting to smile, but that could've just been gas. Likely gas, actually, but it was still cute.

Urquhart did his serious training by himself, of course. He didn't want people to do see what he could really do.

But for a regular light work-out, just to make sure he moved every muscle in his body every day, the semi-public gym in the first basement was good enough.

So he was there, humming to himself while he was on the stair-climbing machine, going up an imaginary skyscraper.

Eve had taken a bit longer getting ready tonight. They'd already gone to a movie, and to dinner, so what the agenda for tonight was she wasn't sure. She'd dressed comfortably but stylish, pairing jeans with heels and a tank top with a button down shirt. Checking her makeup in the elevator had proven that yes, she'd put it on correctly and it still looked fine. She knocked on his door and realized that she was, in fact, a little nervous for she didn't know what to expect.

Eve had been watching for him periodically through the evening. He'd come in while Lexi was on. She'd been running drinks as a favor to Dave. It was easy to slip right on by him, so she did, hands full and without a glance at him.

She delivered the drinks, collected some cash and headed back for the bar to return the tray and cash. This time when she passed him, her hand grazed up his chest and over his shoulder.

It was rare that Eve got a Saturday night off, but she'd taken this whole day and night for herself. She'd settled in to the apartment, taking time to unpack and place every thing just where she felt it should be. Then she'd gone shopping. After spending a good chunk of her stripper funds on clothes, shoes and other fun things.

Sitting in the hot tub was working magic on her achey legs. She tipped her head back and hummed appreciatively. Her hand slipped behind her back, contemplating tugging the knot out of her top when she heard the door click open. Damn there goes that idea she thought to herself unless whoever it was didn't mind and the thought was still there after she'd met them.

Granger turned away from the counter in the Mocha, cup and a muffin in hand as he looked for a place to sit. He'd come home for a bit to get Bogart situated and then he was heading back to work.
His gaze landed on one of the Manor's security guards who was sitting by himself. He'd already heard whispers of the murders being connected around the Manor, so he figured talking to someone before it broke wide open would be a good idea.

"Hello," he said to the man. "Mind if I sit?"

Granger sat in the faux leather office chair next to his private desk in the station rubbing at his temples with a stack of photographs sprawled haphazardly across the desk in front of him. The photographs were of a 1860 Indian head penny that had been found just yesterday tucked in a crack in the trunk of the tree the last body had been found dangling from. It was clean of course. No prints or anything else that could connect the pennies to anyone in particular. Rare enough to stand out but not so rare it could be tracked back to one particular owner.

( The tentative theory is that the murders are somehow connected. )

Granger didn't particularly like the City, but it seemed in this particular instance it was a necessary evil. He'd just spent an hour driving around from hotel to hotel seeing who'd let him snag a room for the night at this hour without a reservation and had wound up somewhere on the edge of town in a dump that he was hoping wouldn't contain enough bed bugs to eat his skin off before morning. He had an apartment waiting, though it wasn't quite ready or free of his dead wife's shit, and he'd rather sleep on sheets covered with newspaper than in a bed that smelled like her right at that moment.

It'd just been that sort of year.

So with a sigh he sought out the place where at least one person was guaranteed to know his name. The Slaughtered Lamb was warm and welcoming, and it was definitely the sort of evening for a drink.

"Conn around?" he asked the pretty redheaded waitress as he settled in on a stool and spun the cherry sucker that was currently tucked securely in the side of his cheek by the stick.