Morningstar Manor

Joe had already been waiting in the Mocha for a quarter of an hour when Adam finally turned up, grimacing and rubbing his shoulder ruefully as he plopped himself into the chair opposite his brother.

"How'd it go?" the elder asked without looking up from his crossword.

Adam wrenched off his over-shirt and pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt so he could look down at his irksome shoulder. "I feel like a pincushion." He turned his arm toward Joe. "Does it look like it's bruising to you?"

Joe looked up, leveling a flat stare at Adam over the rim of his glasses.

"What?" Adam asked pointedly. "It hurts."

Evening off from work, feet sore from the new dancing shoes (that were damn gorgeous but higher than the old ones), Emily strolled in comfortable old ballerina shoes to the Mocha for a hot chocolate. Such a chilly day desperately needed some warming up, and the cardigan she was tugging tighter around her as she queued was not enough. Was she finally coming down with the flu or was it really cold?

Ashley Sexton was sitting in the Auberge, with a large café au lait, and a newspaper.

Yes, an actual paper. Printed. On actual sheets of newsprint. They still happened.-