Morningstar Manor

Saturday at 11 am, and the Mocha was really busy. Among them were:

• Andras, who had visitors. One of them was his brother Lajos, in the City again for lawyerly business, even though he no longer kept a flat here; the other was a bloke he brought along to sleep on the sofa, some researcher from Cambridge whose cousin apparently was Ilona's best and most high-strung graphics designer, here to briefly consult something arcane that was kept at Rutherford. Andras had no hope of even understanding what it was, except that it was Historical; so the bloke was most likely a historian, right? Funnily, though, he was from the same area of Old Blighty originally where Charlie had that farm Andras visited once; so there was something to talk about, at least.
• Charlotte James, who had just been to an early morning visit to the new spa, and was discussing the relative merits of that versus the Michael's Brothers spa with Maude Temminck (whose character had much improved, Charlotte thought, since she was widowed, dried out, and had a grandkid) while her son Manny was sitting peacefully by, as if the chatter of women was no more meaningful than the waves of the ocean, and just as calming. On his lap, little Morgan Temminck was fast asleep. Theoretically, he was waiting for his wife, but Charlotte got the impression that he was content to just sit there.
• Cindy was sitting a few tables on (having said hello to Charlotte and her lot, but still uneasy about the Temmincks, so she hadn't joined them), talking to the Indian woman, Chandika, and her adorable kid whose dog Hanu was most likely the illegitimate son of Axminster, but nobody minded any more, not even the owner of the mother, because Hanu was such a great dog, and while not pedigree, still an indubitable lurcher. They were talking about spas as well -- in particular, the one where Chandika worked. Cindy was very cautiously trying to work out whether it would be all right for her to go there, and Chandika was doing her best to gently reassure her that of course it was. The dogs were both under the table in classic Axminster pose, fast asleep.
  
• Ricky had his earbuds in, surfing MySpace on his netbook; he was sharing his table with some tall stranger with lanky hair and a large nose who was also working away at his notebook -- a rather larger and posher one. They were both drinking chai latte, and any attentive observer might have realised that they were each drinking distractedly from both cups and totally not noticing. Unless one of them had the swine flu, it probably didn't matter.
• By the door to the conservatory, two ghosts were lurking, mostly unseen by the rest of the Mocha. "Just listen to them!" Marek was saying. "They're totally superficial! All they ever talk about are spas." Manny shrugged. "I've spent my life talking about business; spas are a nice break. And I don't like women for their conversation, you know. More for their curves." Marek laughed.

[[OOC: Brief visit of Lajos Toth and Edgar Cobham to justify the icon and make sure that all twelve are really there!]]

It was the usual setup: Andras and Lajos, in the Mocha, in their favourite booth, with newspapers, coffee, muffins, and argument.

The only unusual thing was the day: Sunday, not Saturday, for once.

"Obama appoints industry hard-liners," Andras was saying. "Same week, Apple abolishes DRM. There is definitely something happening with copyright issues, don't you think?"

Lajos looked at him, and sighed.

"Andras," he said, "there are about 144 legal issues far more important and basic that need to be solved first, before I'd even be interested in digital copyright law. It just happens to be the only sort of law you're interested in. You're clearly not interested in traffic laws, as anybody can tell who's seen you treat City traffic as a jungle gym, on your bike."

Andras rolled his eyes.

Bill stared at the email, a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Kedves Vilmos, it started, "Dear Bill". And he recognised the name at the end - Laslo, his old friend and ex-employee before the company was bought out from under him.

But the rest:

Leszel felismerés ez Tudom. Nem tud ír sok. Túl veszélyes értem. Mi alapít egy ágy -ból dobás keverék. Akarnak -hoz bánya ez -ban titok. Nem persze hogyan biztos Én mert Tudom mi ők tervezés. Van bekerített egy térkép és egy dokumentum -val részlet. Remélem megtalálhatod valaki -hoz lefordít érted.

Ön az én -m mentőkötél, Vilmos. Segítsen nekem tűnj el ebből élő.

Bill had a horrible feeling that "veszélyes" meant dangerous.

He checked the time then rang the one person he knew who might be able to help.

Emma was manning the desk so Charlie was enjoying a quiet morning catching up on correspondence and chatting to people he hadn't chatted to for a while. It was too early to call the Uk so Mum and Tom were further down the list but he had caught Sam in and was hearing the latest in the saga of Parker's stalker! Charlie thought it was taking the secret admirer thing a bit far, and Sam was plainly incensed, but he calmed her down then listened avidly to news of Nia and Rosie and how Sam was taking the local dojo by storm.

"Yeah, I miss you too," he said eventually and sighed. "But we'll see you soon, won't we? You are still coming for Thanksgiving? Oh - oh cool. Right. That's great."

There was a knocked at the door and he called 'Come in' before saying, "What? Oh yeah, you too, sweetie, love to all and a big kiss for the babies. Yeah, Bye."

He put the phone down and grinned at his visitor. "And what can I do for you?"

A latte, a multiple espresso and a large glass of water; a plate of assorted muffins, a stack of assorted newspapers, and two brothers with the same dark curly hair and dark blue eyes arguing, in a comfortable booth near the entrance to the Mocha.

"... totally bad taste!" Lajos was declaring. "And nothing else. Sorry. I can't laugh at that."

"If she can't stand the heat, she should get out of the fucking kitchen!" Andras grumbled, looking at the newspaper.

"Kitchen heat isn't the same as 'zippoes strategically applied to your genitals'," Lajos argued. "Nobody would do that to a male politician!"

"Remember that photoshopped pic of Dubya taking it from behind?" Andras shot back. "And these are just strippers -- positively traditional! Okay, the Larry Flynt thing is a bit edgier -- but really, if she can't stand the fucking heat..."

"It is not a political argument," Lajos maintained, shaking his head and sipping his water.

"No, but it shows how popular she is," Andras said. "Do you think Fox News will give her a talk show in the new year?"

Lajos finally chuckled at that. "Optimist!" he said. "Well, let's say, she's easier to understand than the subprime mortgage crisis, the subprime credit crisis, and the accumulation of toxic assets -- and, I think, infinitely less important in the long run."

Andras put down the newpaper and took up another one.


[[OOC: Thanks to Sal for the link -- I felt I totally had to do something with it!]]

Astonishingly, it wasn't Saturday.

Hadn't it usually been Saturday when that specific table was occupied by the brothers with the curly black hair, the startling dark blue eyes, the rather opposing world-view, the stack of newspapers and the generous plate of muffins?

Strangely enough, all this was present, even though it was half past five on a Wednesday, and not eleven on a Saturday morning.

"... have no idea how bleak the situation looks right now!" Lajos was saying at the moment. "Pregnant teenagers and chastity rings are so bloody irrelevant, sorry. That's not just the wrong tree you're barking up, it's also in the wrong bloody forest. On the wrong bloody mountain!"

"But she's a bloody madwoman!" Andras was arguing.

As usual, the Toth brothers are quite willing to share both muffins and discussion.

Even though it's not Saturday.

Andras and Lajos were sitting at a table in a Mocha this morning, drinking coffee, eating muffins, and discussing the world economy.

No, really.

"The Dollar is fucked! Fucked, I tell you!" Andras was says. "If it goes on like this, I'll have pretend to live in England and be paid in Pounds! Back in London, I can't buy a rancid steak and kidney pie for what I get for a shoot here, or something like that!"

Lajos shook his head. "I still don't think the problem is entirely home-made," he said. "The Chinese..."

"Don't forget, these people here are fighting a war and despite that..." Andras said, gesturing largely with his half-eaten muffin.

They sounded as if they needed distracting very urgently.-