Morningstar Manor

On weekends, the Mocha was always packed with people having a late breakfast all through the morning. The crowd today included:

• Andras, who was talking via Skype with his brother in London, for whom it was already between lunch- and teatime.
• Sibyl and Urquhart, who were sharing a table and a plate of cookies, and discussing a shared problem: - what you could possibly give Ruth for Christmas that she'd really enjoy.
• Chandika and Rahul, with Hanu the hound in tow, who were spoiling themselves with a sweet breakfast made by somebody else, as Bethan was working an early shift at the clinic.
• Cindy, who sat a few tables further on, reading a magazine in Greek and keeping an eye on Axminster and Hanu. At the moment, they were just laying in a heap under her table, but she knew those guys, and they could get boisterous.
• Ricky, usually quite as boisterous, was at the moment curled up in the corner of a sofa being morose into his phone. "No, mom, you really can't do that to me," he complained. "We are having this big concert on the -- what you mean, they can play without me just as well? Do you know what the industry is like? Mom??"

• Urquhart was doing the laundry, but one of the washing machines had gone weird on him. He could try and fix it on his own, but it would be much more interesting to find himself some handyman or maid and that way meet more of the staff. So he went up to the first floor to stick his head into the staff corridor and mildly bleat for help.
• Cindy was in the lobby, waiting for Andras to return with the dog. She was reading a cooking magazine, occasionally looking up from it to still not see the two loping shapes come in through the front door.
• Ricky was in the conservatory, wondering whether some seedlings of his mum's illicit crop might be grown here, hidden beneath and behind the regular plants.
• Chandika was sitting in the Mocha, having a Mocha mocha with whipped cream, syrup and sprinkles. She was texting on her phone, and giggling as she was doing so.
• Andras was outside, just around the corner, taking pictures of Axminster who was busy meeting a small pink female poodle.
• Sibyl was in the garden, walking around and looking up at the sky, while obviously deep in thought.

On a Saturday night, the Lamb usually did brisk business, with many of the usual staff on duty at once, and perhaps a few extra hands here and there. Drink was flowing, food flying from the kitchen, and the noise level of talk and laughter and music was like a warm wall when you came walking in through the front door, out of the crisp early autumn evening air.

Among the many patrons, there were:

• Andras Toth, at the bar with a pint of cider and a basket of fries, watching people and chatting briefly to anybody he knew.
• Cindy Papadopoulos, in a booth in an out-of-the-way corner, drinking a nice red wine and reading a book that she was glaring at quite angrily. She didn't have her wheelchair, just crutches. This had been a good day, and she'd decided to dare going down the pub without wheels.
• Ricky Sands, with a pint of Guiness, monopolising the jukebox even though hardly anybody paid much attention to the music.
• Chandika Malhortra, at a little table in the middle of the bustle, drinking malibu lemonades with a friend, resting high-heeled feet after an afternoon's and early evening's shopping.
• Urquhart, with a half-empty glass of really good single malt (and there had, of course, only ever been the customary finger's breadth), throwing darts at the dartboard near the door. He wasn't playing against anybody, but kept score in his head.
• Sibyl Gray, with a pint of shandy, leaning against a pillar and wondering what her room-mate's 'boyfriend' (if you could apply that word to a well-weathered man in his mid-fifties) was up to, now in particularly, and ultimately as well.

It was a wonderful sunny afternoon, and the Square was full of people. Among them:

• Urquhart, who was sitting by his red door with a bottle of beer, watching football on a little portable TV set.
• Cindy, who was wheeling herself across the entire Square, followed by Axminster, who was slouching along lazily.
• Ricky, who was sitting on the steps of the angel statue and smoking a cigarette. Or something.
• Chandika, who was standing at the window of the new vintage clothes shop, looking eagerly at everything.
• Andras, who was sitting in the Auberge, drinking an iced coffee and watching football on his iPad.
• Sibyl, who was taking a wheelbarrow full of what looked like old horse-blankets from the disreputable antiques shop towards the Manor.

On Saturday afternoon, Vine Square was busy as usual. Many people were about, among them:

• Sibyl, who was browsing the basket of bits, scraps and ends in front of the Indian shop; they always had interesting little bits that would come in useful at some stage
• Andras, who was talking to somebody on the phone, throwing around all sort of technical terms while lounging on the steps of the angel statue
• Chandika, who was trying to keep Hanu under control on his leash while at the same time trying to cheer up little Rahul by promising him ice cream; she couldn't see any, though, and started looking decidedly harried
• Ricky, who was cheerfully bopping along while making a meandering diagonal across the entire square; he was wearing big earphones labelled 'Bose' that held back his fluffy blond curls
• Cindy, who was sitting in front of the building that was up for renovation next, just looking at it
• Urquhart, who was sitting outside the Auberge watching people being busy while sipping a triple espresso.

[[OOC: Say in your tag whom you want! Open all weekend.]]

The Lamb was never exactly quiet but Wednesday was one of its slightly less busy nights and there were a few free tables and the dartboard was free.

Charlie came in and looked around, waved to Molly and headed for the bar. "Hello sweetheart," he said. "Happy thhhhhhinko da mayo. Guiness please. Ah - and one for my friend here. What're you having?"

Easter Sunday, and for Emma another favourite day. This was of course mostly due to Ang remembering to get hold of a proper and decent Cadbury (Damn Kraft anyway) Easter Egg or three for her, and putting together a proper feast of a dinner - Roast Lamb, Roast Potatoes, Yorkshire Puddings, assorted vegetables, gravy, and of course, PUDDING!

The only downside? Having stuffed herself silly Emma needed a walk and some fresh air, so did Lily, if for different reasons, so here they were in the gardens, Lily bounding around after her ball and being happy, and Emma feeling more like a lumbering whale. Lily brought her ball back and Emma threw it out across the lawns again, watching it bounce on the grass and wondering where the freaky snow of last week had all gone to. Maybe she shouldn't, but she glanced up at the scaffolding surrounding what was left of the pool house, and of course, that was when Lily came bounding back and of course, for some reason, went completely nuts and tripped Emma up.

There were several people around Vine Square going about their business this fine Saturday morning. Nobody would have thought there had been a blizzard only a week ago!

	Andras was wheeling his bike over the Square, talking into his phone as he went. "No, she won't want any fucking promotional items, you fucking moron," he growled. "She's a fucking pro and wants to use stuff she fucking knows. Where the fuck did you get my fucking phone number anyway, you fucking dick, and on a fucking Saturday morning!" He glared at his phone as he disconnected the annoying call. He'd need some coffee now!
	Charlotte was leaving the Auberge just at that moment, having paid up, carrying three dainty shopping bags that screamed of luxury, and looking airily around her. Had the air just turned a shade bluer?
	Cindy was visiting her building site, where the plasterers were putting in an extra shift so everybody could get on with things on Monday. Of course, they were being paid for it, but she still thought it great that they'd give up their Saturday instead of keeping everybody back another day. So she was bringing them several large bags full of Chinese food from those little folding boxes, fresh from a restaurant three blocks down, as a surprise lunch.
	Maude was hesitating in front of the gallery windows. She had had a call from a friend in California, who knew a friend who had a question. Pity Andy wasn't working here any more. So, Maude was pretending to look at the things in the windows while trying to determine who was there.
	Chandika was rather exhausted and made a beeline for the Auberge as well. She'd done lots and lots of Easter shopping. With a Catholic flat-mate, there was an excuse to get a good breakfast for when Bethan came from church, nice dinner, and lots of seasonal candy. You were never too old for hot chocolate with tiny yellow peeps in! But you had to find all the stuff somewhere.
	Ricky was sitting on the base of the bronze angel, smoking a roll-up. It was not discernible as anything but an ordinary roll up, but you could never tell what might be in one of Ricky's roll-ups. He wasn't quite completely happy. Something had gone wrong lately, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
	Sibyl had been browsing the disreputable antiques shop that was still sprawling through several old garages, workshops and commercial storage space in an alley off Vine Square. She was proudly carrying three late 19th century dining chair with their upholstery in an unspeakably vile state. But re-upholstering a chair was one of Sibyl's most familiar tasks; she'd find some nice fabric, pamper the wood a little, and then make them all pretty again. The substance of the chairs was completely sound, so she proudly lugged the apparent ruins across the Square.
	Urquhart was lounging on what was, temporarily, his own doorstep, sipped a coffee he'd fetched from the Auberge, and watched people. By now, he knew where he was going with this contract. Some rumours about the Manors were rather weird, though. Some were quite silly. A few were laugh-out-loud preposterous. One or two were actually worrisome.

[[OOC: Open all weekend and Monday! Say in your tag whom you want!]]

Jimmy knew Ricky would be along eventually. They had made no arrangement to meet but the band that was playing was one of Moray's and there was a girl in it who, rumour had it, put out like a fucking railway train, so it was a given that Ricky would be at the gig.

Jimmy hung around near the artist's entrance to the venue and amused himself by looking at the groupies.

He made them nervous. It was a scream.

Ricky was happy. He had a large pot of Karma Chai, was slouching on a sofa with a little computer balanced on his knee, working away at some list, happy as a clam. He was listening to some music with one ear -- one wire leading into his mane, one earbud dangling loose, at least -- and would be quite gregarious to anybody who'd come and talk into his spare ear.

Andras was much less happy; he was wondering what to say to Fin the next time he saw him, and brooding into his latte. He felt he was digging himself into a corner as it was, but now he was discovering that that corner was actually the fucking midden. 'Doubleplusungood' was a mild way of putting it. He picked up the magazine he had and tried to read, but it didn't help, because it was the one published by that bloke Declan with whom he'd had a one night stand some weeks back. He sighed.

Sibyl was actively unhappy; she was sitting at a table by the window, looked out, and pondered. As yet, everybody had kept mum about the theft at the museum, and people came in droves to gawk happily at the glass replica; but the atmosphere at work was such that she fled in terror every evening as early as she could possibly justify, and instead sat in her room in Del's flat, listening to audio books and working on the needlepoint from the broken chair, which was all but finished now. But if and when it all came out, the porta-potty was definitely going to hit the helicopter rotor blades, and when the first large donations were withdrawn, who would they fire first? Whom they hired last, of course! It wasn't that Sibyl couldn't have four other jobs starting tomorrow anywhere, but she actually liked the Manor and wanted to stay at least until she had found all the fascinating things that were there to be found. She didn't want to leave yet!

"UGH!!"

With a great grunt like a caveman Ricky threw himself on a couch in the Mocha. His mom's home-raised turkey were the best, ever, getting better every year, and Auntie Gert's home-brewed cider -- heaven!

There had been the right sort of spice in the cookies, too, and that was traditional, too. Good weed was something to be enormously thankful for, too, in the extended Sands family.

Everybodyy had come home this year, and whoever had somebody, brought them. So Ricky had got Marlene -- again! -- to take home as all the rooms were full with siblings and cousins and adopted family members that had all brought their spouses and kids and newest lovers.

Marlene went to the counter to fetch some Karma Chai so as to clear their systems from all the excesses, and then they settled down to do some serious gossiping about all the people they's known for ages and seen today -- oh my gosh, wasn't Galadriel's new Peruvian girlfriend the cutest thing ever? And how like Tebby to have brought the cause of his epic lovesickness along!

Oh, this had been such a party!

Cambion was in the garden, sprawled on his back across a bench, with a bowl of chocolate pudding balanced on his chest. A large bowl. He had made packet pudding, and the entire thing was being slowly spooned into his mouth as he watched the clouds scudding across the sky. Pudding - it made everything better. Even when things were fin to begin with, after pudding, they were great.

Ricky was driving his 'bus' -- tiny Japanese thing from the late eighties -- through some rather unpleasant and undesirable real estate, but they really needed more of that herbal stuff. It went like hot cakes, through all their contacts.

It was strictly legal, of course -- nobody had yet thought of declaring it illegal, so it wasn't as if they were dealing drugs. They were just doing a favour to some people.

Ricky honked -- ahh, yes, that was where it had to be!

Last time had been close. They had gotten a few blows themselves and had been almost caught on the Rutherford Campus - so this time Doug and Bob knew they had to be faster. No playing around, just hit and run. They had been looking for a good target all night but hadn't really seen anything low-risk. They were waiting in a narrow and dark alleyway that lead away from one of the main streets in the center of the City - someone was bound to walk past alone, but Doug was getting frustrated at the waiting. He glanced at his watch - it was already almost midnight.

Then they heard a door open nearby and close and two chattering people came out.

( Emily's good fortune is about to end painfully )

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We got a box of the stuff today, courtesy of our new sponsors, and all those neophile geeks that work here piled into the coffee pantry and tried a cup. It tastes really, really nice, and it makes you calm and focused, so you can achieve lots -- a bit like really good green tea, a bit like guarana. Actually, people were discussing what it was most like, and we all sort of ended up comparing it to our usual coding brew of choice. Instead of whacking myself awake with a triple espresso, I might resort to the pink stuff in the future.

Technically they shouldn't have put it in the pool, but the Manor could afford to replace it if necessary and it had to be admitted that a genuine floating pirate ship was a lot more fun than one on the grass.

Nick tied it off securely at one side of the pool so the prow was in the shallow end and the stern over deep water for jumping in, and wondered who would be the first to find it. There were plenty of posters up, that was for sure.

{Standard party post - get your pups' scantiest swimmers on and come and say 'Aaaaar'}

First thing in the morning, Charlie paused on his way to open the gallery and looked at the sky. There was something in the air - just a little chill - that warned him to make the most of the good weather. Then he walked on, resolving to get the winter woollies out of storage that very weekend.

#

Around eleven Andy crossed the Square with her shopping list, Erik's suit, neatly bagged, over her arm and she too paused. But she was smiling as she watched a pigeon land on the head of the bronze angel. "Go on," she said. "Poop. You know you want to."

#

At noon Nick was at the other end of the Square, just coming out of a tatty little plumbing supplies shop that was nevertheless the only place within walking distance that stock a particular type of European metric dimension washer. Trendy French style bathrooms might look chic but they were a bugger to repair.

#

Lunchtime at the Auberge was part of the routine for Leo on working days and he sat and sipped his coffee while he waited for Paula to bring his salad. He was at a table outside, feeling he might as well make the most of what remained of the summer.

#

"May I?" Fin had asked as the tweedy Englishman had left the table and had got both somewhere to sit and that days local paper. He read it with as much relish as he ate his red onion quiche.

#

Vincenzo waited near the dance studio trying not to feel self concious about the bunch of pink rosebuds he was carrying. He glanced at his watch, then along the road hoping to see Emily but no, he was still a bit early.

#

Amarie romped through the Square on her way home from work. She had new shoes and had picked up pizza for dinner and all was right with the world, yeah, man. She paused at the lights, thumb busy as she sent a text to a friend, but took a moment to wonder at the scraps of mildewed ribbon tied to the upright by the crossing.

#

Del waited near the entrance of the Flamingo Lounge. He was carefully dressed, had a pale yellow rosebud in his lapel and was carrying a London Times. Sometimes customers liked a little intrigue and there was no way he'd say they couldn't have it.

They were late.

#

Jimmy had a bone to pick but the guy had fled. Much good it would do him. He OWED Max and Jimmy would collect. He'd give him one more chance and if he didn't pay up then Jimmy was happy to take payment in body parts.

Meanwhile he ambled along the sidewalk, killing time until he had to get to work.

#

Close to midnight and a horrible shriek disturbed the peace in the alley at the back of the gallery. Two bodies tumbled on the filthy paving, kicking and gouging, spitting curses, until one broke free and fled leaving quantities of ginger fur and a very pleased Palug. He rubbed a paw over a bloodied ear licked it and grinned. Just because he was off his usual patch didn't mean he wasn't still top cat.

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!]]

Del was up early for once, bright eyed and bushy-tailed and amusing himself with the crossword in the local paper. He took a sip of coffee, gave Joy a blinding smile as she voluntarily refilled it and tried his best to ignore the amused look of the man two tables along.

Leo Beck scribbled on his feint ruled paper, half an eye on the time and half the other one on the man sitting near young Mr Avilar. For some reason he made him feel slightly edgy.

Palug hid in a dark corner behind a potted plant and growled softly - the sing-song snarl of a cat that's very very scared and trying not to show it. At no time did he take his eyes of the man and every time he moved the growl grew a little louder.

Fin Welch had started off in the Mocha but someone had brushed past him and he had started feeling the first gasping breathlessness of a full blown panic attack. Now he sat in the conservatory close to an open doorway and tried to get his breathing back under control.

Mr Vision sat with his coffee and his cigar, perfectly well aware of what was going on around him and thoroughly enjoying it.

Ricky was sitting on the base of the Vine Square Angel, drinking beer from a can.

A few yards away, his lovely teal Harley was shimmering in the evening sun.

Life was good.