Morningstar Manor

Kenny O'Bannon never knew what hit him. He was chatting to his girlfriend on the phone, making the appropriate noises while listening to her woes about her sister, her mother, her aunt and her entire extended female family. He'd have asked her to marry him months ago if he weren't slightly scared of the entire matriarchal tribe she was going to bring --

"OUCH!!"

"What's the matter?" she was asking on the phone.

"Something bit me," he said. "Fuck, it's far too early in the year for the real big monsters."

He touched his neck where the sharp little pain had been, and his finger came away with a drop of glistening blood, which he licked off.

Then, Shawna hung up, he had reached his 'workshop' in the basement, and opened the door.

And keeled over dead, his besneakered feet sticking out into the evening sun.

To be honest, licking the blood had been harmless. The poison didn't survive digestive juices. In the bloodstream, however, it was immediately fatal in small doses.

On the roof, a quite satisfied contract killer crept away quietly. Not only had he got revenge for the Harley (and the attempt at murdering him), he had also proven that killing somebody with a blow-dart made of ice laced with classic blow-dart poison was quite feasible.

That way, killing Kenny had even been useful.

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.

Leena was on the desk today so Charlie was out in the body of the gallery tidying a wall up after taking down a load of pictures. He was filling the screw holes at the moment and would paint it later.

Because it was a boring job he was listening to music and singing along.

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.

Jason had the night shift tonight and that was fine by him. He didn't sleep much anyway. But he still had about half an hour before he was technically on duty - though most would tell you he was never off duty - and so decided a coffee as in order. Large Mocha Latte in hand Jason found a table where he could watch the room and took a seat.

***

Jack had just come off a 24 hour straight shift and stumbled into the Mocha in search of food and drink. It might seem silly to be going for coffee when he was now free to head back to his little apartment and crash but he needed the routine of a coffee and a muffin to unwind from work. Then there would be a shower and bed.

Jack's uniform shirt was already unbuttoned half way down his chest to show the white singlet beneath but now he untucked it from his trousers and let it hang completely open. He gave Joy his usual wicked smile - even if it was a bit tired - and she flushed and fluttered and soon he had his coffee and chocolate chip muffin and was finding a table.

***

Deacon had slept like a rock in his own bed for far longer than he probably should have but that was fine by him. He'd needed it. When he did finally get up today he'd worked out hard in the gym, showered, gone grocery shopping for real, and now - getting ready to head into the station for a late shift and to get caught up on his paperwork - he headed into the Mocha dressed in jeans, black boots, black button up and his leather jacket, gun tucked inside in its shoulder holster. Getting in line for the counter he tucked his hands in his pockets and smiled. It was good to be home.

"No, that won't work."

Urquhart had been in his workshop/garage, door up to let in the greyish natural light of a rainy afternoon, kneeling on a scrap of canvas and lovingly applying grease to recalcitrant screws on his Harley's innards, when the call came.

A client, and one with very bad ideas, at that.

"I'm quite willing to wait for my fee until you've liquidated some of the assets you are expecting from the transaction..." he ventured, then listened to his phone with a deepening scowl.

"You're entirely mistaken, sir," he said, calmly. "If that is your last word -- well. Yes, for expenses occurred, and necessary cancellations, and so forth."

That's why it was a 'non-refundable advance', for pete's sake! Idiotic Americans.

"I'll recommend somebody else free of charge."

Ivan, Dmitri, or one of their countless 'cousins' would pick it up gladly and make it look really nasty, and never worry about the inelegant solution.

"Of course, discretion is always guaranteed, independent of payment. Goodbye."

Insurance fraud -- of all the stupid ideas he had heard in his career! Urquhart was having none of it. He had to live here -- unlike the Ukrainians, who'd fly in goons and fly out the slightly iffy Monets, no problem.

He shook his head, picked up the oil can, and forgot all about the call for the time being, pleasantly lost in the Zen of motorcycle maintenance.

Cleo was sitting in the conservatory, sipping on a soda, and trying to finish the assignment she had to hand in tomorrow. She wasn't happy with it, and this was her third rewrite after telling Jazz it was done, which was why she was down here and not in the apartment!She muttered something under her breath, then looked up, blushing slightly, swearing in French was all right, so long as nobody heard. All she heard in return was the rustling of the plants as the fan turned lazily overhead in a hint of breeze from somewhere.

With a sigh Cleo put her head back down into her books, only a couple of paragraphs left to go now! Then, she heard footsteps, and looked up again, who else was in the conservatory?

She had had a bad night and had spent most of it longing to go home, put her feet up and watch something mindless on TV.

So naturally, when she finally did get back to the Manor, it was to find a fellow tenant breathing his last in the middle of the Mocha.

Once it was over she sat down for breakfast anyway. There was nothing to eat in her apartment.

She stirred her coffee, staring into the middle distance while she tried to shake off the tension of the night.

There was a fat chick in the queue before him, and Andras rolled his eyes. She was chatting to the barista -- not Joy --  and ordering her coffee piecemeal -- 'Oh yes, I can just as well have some sprinkles! But who was that old man this morning?'

Andras groaned, and she turned around, grinning all the way up at at him. She had a very impressive pair of boobs, but Andras didn't care.

"You going to keel over next?" she asked, sweetly.

"No, but you are!" Andras said, caffeine crave making him grumpy. "You really shouldn't have sprinkles, you know. Or whipped cream. Or brownies, at that." She already had an ass like a dray horse, for fuck's sake! Why was she making it worse?

"And who are you, the food and body police?" she asked, shaking her head. "Mind your own damn business."

"Who he is," said a somewhat Scottish voice behind Andras, very drily, "is some fluffy hipster between me and my coffee, and that's not a naturally tenable position for anyone."

She giggled, and Andras turned around, and almost felt like keeling over after all.

The man behind him was about fifty, but an inch taller even than Andras, and at least twice as broad. He smiled down at him, his amber eyes, oddly enough for such a warm colour, icy-cold as he did so.

"Cream, sprinkles, brownie, and caramel cookies," the fat girl declared, and when she got it, she turned, flounced past Andras, offered the big Scotsman a cookie (which he accepted, taking a bite right away with very strong and white teeth that looked positively threatening), and took herself off to some table in the corner.

"What are you waiting for, Mr. Hipster?" the Scotsman asked, sweetly.

( Emily )

*

( Avery )

*

( Susan )

*

( Laura )

Urquhart was standing in the middle of the garden, out in the open snow, wrapped up in a dark leather jacket with a sheepskin collar, and talking into his cell phone rather urgently, but with a quite voice.

He had overheard some security guards talking, and now might need to adjust plans.

More than half a year's work ruined.

If he was unlucky.-

Urquhart was standing in the middle of the Mocha and staring at the cup in his hand.

He'd ordered a latte with two extra shots of espresso, and that was what he had got. Hadn't he?

Now, taking the first sip on his way to the chair he meant to sit in, he found his mouth full of sweet foamy milk tasting of spices.

Chai latte? What??

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??"

Sunday afternoon, and with no household chores to be done, and Alec on edge over the baseball, Ang had taken the chance to slip away with an assignment to the library. That had taken a while, but with that done, she'd headed for the Mocha, intending to just have a cup of tea. Of course, then she'd seen the cookies and muffins, decided she was hungry and succumbed to the temptation of not only a sandwich, but a plate of treats too. Now though, she was settled with her tray and her tea, and a textbook, on one of the couches, to study and relax at the same time. She looked up often though, smiling at people and generally feeling very relaxed, despite how busy things were just now.

She'd just set the book down when something drew her attention, and she looked up to see someone heading her way....

• 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.

Urquhart was sitting on a low planter full of colourful asters, eating fresh figs he just bought at the market from a rough brown paper bag.

They were purple, velvety, of a deliciously resilient texture, taut soft skin around the abundance of seed inside.

Urquhart knew exactly what the fruit reminded him of as he bit into the next one with strong white teeth, breaking the skin easily, tearing out a sweet, delicious chunk of sweetly dripping fertility.

When he was done with it, he spat the tough little stalk deftly into the gutter.-

Rhiannon stood in line in the Mocha in a pale yellow sun dress, smiling down at Harvey who refused to answer any questions about the necklace constructed of blue and green yarn woven together, with a big, orange construction paper heart hanging against his chest. Arms crossed, he scowled when Rhiannon prodded him gently.
"Is she pretty?" She asked.
"I hate girls!" Harvey announced, cheeks pink.

***

Smith was on his way into the lobby, still shaking his head about the day at work he'd had. He was a security person - not a nanny. People were so goddamn ridiculous sometimes.

***

Niles sat out in the garden with his guitar laying beside him forgotten as he frowned at some paper work in his lap. It seemed as though his father was in some financial trouble. Why anyone expected him to care was beyond him, though he didn't throw the notice away immediately. Fuck.

***

Declan was up in the hot tub, blatantly hogging most of it as he yawned and attempted to relax. It had been a long, long day.

***

Sterrin was in the mail room, taking her time in sorting her mail from her brother's and Jack's. She really needed to get her own place soon.

Guy took a break between pickups and bought a coffee and took it to the angel statue. He liked sitting in the shadow of the big green wings while he drank. It made him feel safe.

###

Ben also had a drink - tea he had made himself. It was getting cold on the counter while he unpacked and shelved books. The door was wide open and the workmen were in and out whistling. Ben was very pleased with the way the work was going. The soft pale turquoise paint on the walls made him feel happy and relaxed. he hoped it would have the same effect on his customers.

###

Charlie should have been answering emails but a thought had struck him and he'd gone and found a sheet of paper and had got out some pastels and was making a glorious smudgy mess that was slowly beginning to look like the City on a windswept and rainy evening. He was particularly enjoying doing the neon reflections in puddles.

There was a big smudge of pink across his cheek.

###

Allan pumped the bellows watching the iron go from red to a glowing yellow-pink, then he took it from the fire to the anvil and picked up his hammer. White sparks showered as he struck, and again. He wasn't making anything in particular, but it really helped him to think.

Emma thought she was doing really well, not only did the constantly being watched feeling not freak her out, but she was actually feeling remarkably comfortable with it. Unlike Ang, who'd been down earlier while Alec was out with Faith and Gavin, she hadn't wanted to be alone was her reasoning for visiting, but then she'd confessed to the pregnancy and Emma understood more. After their visit, Ang had headed home for dinner, and Emma had walked Lily then left her back in the apartment to come down to the Mocha and web browse on her netbook in company. She wasn't looking for much, just ideas, and the odd fact about various painting movements and fashion trends, and if she could find it, something nice for Halloween.... She'd just given up on one site, nothing but nothing would have her going anywhere dressed as a pumpkin when something made her look over her shoulder...