Morningstar Manor

In her lunch break, Sibyl was wandering around the back of the farmers' market today, with a large coffee in her hand.

She was looking for Allan's studio. Farriery round the back, he had said? Did this look like a stable yard here?

It might have been. Amazing how some horse-age infrastructure had survived here, reused for lots of other things.

If she didn't find Allan, she'd just ask somebody.

Today Allan had decided, would be a rest day.

So he was - flat on his back in a patch of light shade with a pillow under his head and not in the least concerned about snoring.

Days off were rare, but this one was necessary. They had got up early and were continuing to put the apartment to rights but many many boxes of books still needed to be sorted and shelved, and both women needed to impose their own personalities on this very nice but quite masculine space.

Even so, by 11 am both were ready for a break and Ruth made coffee and took hers to the window seat to look out at the City and the countryside beyond.

"How far is it to the mountains, do you suppose?" she asked. "I've lived here for years but have never been."

All Del's unwanted possessions had been packed away and he was left with one smallish bag, his wallet and his phone. Where they were going clothes would be optional and if Eris decided to take a trip to warm up Anchorage they were in sufficient funds to buy what they needed when they got there.

He got a last coffee and seated himself in his favourite seat in the Mocha to wait for his lady.

###

Gil was grabbing some quiet time in the library with a heap of recipe books and one of the computers. While the printer churred and chugged and spat out nice new inventory lists he leafed through the books wincing at the over coloured pictures and occasionally snorting at the recipes.

But sometimes he nodded and scribbled in a dog eared notebook. You could always learn something new.

###

Charlie was in the conservatory with a pile of printed off pictures and a pair of scissors. If anyone passed he went very still, trying not to attract attention. He was good at that - still hadn't lost the knack of self-effacement he'd found so necessary when he arrived.

But this time it wasn't because he was scared of the world and everything in it. It was because the pictures he was so carefully cutting out were of handsome, smiling and mostly naked young men and were destined for a very special project he had in mind.

He just didn't want to give offence.

###

Andy read a novel with a sense of utter luxury and sipped a latte from time to time without much enjoyment. Her doctor had impressed upon her that double shot espresso could be overly stimulating, in fact addictive and that she really wouldn't want a new born that was going cold turkey.

She turned another page, read a bit, and snickered. Harlequin Historicals. Priceless. And hardly stimulating anything at all, other than her funny bone.

Ruth was carrying a flat shallow box, taking its weight on one forearm while her free hand turned over the pieces of pottery within. Was it all one Samian vessel - or was it several. It would take some comparisons to find out.

Seeing a movement from the corner of her eye she said, "Can you get the door please?" then focussed on the person standing then and said, "Oh - Hi. Sibyl. Can you get the door please?"

He wouldn't be needing winter woollies so packed them away carefully and taped up the box and put it with the stack to go down to the storage unit he and Eris had hired.

"Sibyl," he called as he went into the kitchen. "Which of the pots and pans should I leave you? No point in me boxing everything if you can use them."

Jackson and Evans had booked leave at the same time. This happened in even the best regulated offices. When one man said his vacation was end of February and the other said his was first week of March it sometimes took a while to catch on that those dates included a common weekend. So they had drawn straws who would cover the Saturday night and Vincenzo, fuming, had picked the wrong one. It didn't help that he also had the Saturday afternoon shift as well.

But coffee would keep him going. Lots of coffee.

He stood in the queue and waited his turn, thinking about what he had planned for Emily tomorrow.

###

Fin had a book and some coffee and no commitments at all - which meant he was on edge and unhappy. He was a man who dearly loved a dead line. Also he had just had a very disturbing encounter with Andy Andrassy. He didn't dislike women in general but some were scary and she was just plain terrifying.

Lots of coffee was what he needed too.

###

Another man with a book was Leo Beck, reading through that years edition of the writer's handbook with a slightly bemused expression on his face. Occasionally he reached out and stirred his tea - which was getting cold.

###

Allan was garnering evil looks from the barista because he had been struck with a brilliant idea for a sculpture and to help the thought process was constructing a maquette out of pipecleaners and damp napkins. He always thought better if he had something to do with his hands.

###

Gil had nothing at all to do for the moment - not even a paper to read - and was enjoying the comparative silence before he had to go to work. Not that he disliked his job - he loved it - but a few moments calm before the madness was to be relished.

###

Del was less happy. He had worked last night, had a thick head, and suspected that Eris was making her mind up to move on. He'd go, of course - if she asked him to.

If.

He sipped his latte and wondered what he'd do if she didn't.

###

Charlie glowed happily as he sat in the corner and drew. Deacon was watching the sport, Nia was having tea with Aunty Andy and Unka Ekka - he snickered every time she called Erik that, and Charlie could feel the gentle pressure of his little collar under the fold of the scarf swathing his neck.

He smiled across the Mocha, his pencil moving with confident strokes, and drew anyone who crossed his line of sight.

The break room microwave was a bit iffy again, which made Sibyl glad she'd brought something that could be heated while closed. While the machine hummed away, she got herself a large latte from the machine, and then, with her pasta and veg all heated up, she looked around for somewhere to sit.

Elspeth was considering bids for new tiles in some of the bathrooms of flats that were between tenants. If she picked the colors, it was possible the new tenants wouldn't like them -- on the other hand, if she waited for someone else to choose, it would delay the new tenants from moving in, once they were approved. It was important to freshen and repair every apartment between residents, but whoever had lived in these two flats -- adjoining, oddly enough -- had done some work in their bathrooms. Chipped tiles, broken moldings. Strange stains.

Maybe blue? Maybe green? Maybe simple, easy to care for white...?

Maybe she needed an assistant for projects like this.

Andras had got into a kind of routine by now, undisturbed by the bustle around him, taking pictures, archiving, pampering models, working with Juanita for the details, with Pammie for what Lewis really wanted, and with Lewis, for what he really, really wants now.

His hard disks were filling up, and people were alternating between hectic activity and utter lassitude.

Somebody handed him a styrofoam cup from the Mocha, and he went on working.


[ooc: Party post so tag in and let the pups chat amongst themselves, or if they want input from one of the staff, please give us a poke.]

Ruth got herself some coffee and went to her usual table and seated herself with a sigh. She took her notebook from her bag and flipped it open at the marked page, and studied the sketch she had made earlier then made a few careful adjustments.

Concentrating, she didn't notice any one else entering the room or getting themselves coffee. She tended not to when she was working.

After work, Sibyl wandered casually by Rhiannon's shop.

She could at least scout out when it was open, and when might be a good time to drop by.

The things in the window wouldn't fit her, but she didn't let that deter her.

Somebody was sniggering behind her.

She turned, and saw two teenage girls, stick-thin and wrapped in huge scarves that looked as if they'd been knitted by a drunken Neanderthal, and wearing duvets as jackets, bags from some chain stores in their hands.

"She'll never get her fat ass in that," the one said to the other, and they squealed, excited about their own audacity. "Why is she gawking?"

"You can never afford that," Sibyl said, to them, scaring them badly. "So you should stop gawking as well."

She opened the door, and stepped inside.

Christmas was in many ways a favourite holiday but today Nick was cursing it heartily. Something had gone wrong with the lights and they had ceased to function and someone, Nick suspected Mrs Kelso, had complained about it, so he had been given the fiddly assignment of finding out what was wrong and putting it right. Failing that he would have to remove all the decorations, remove the lights and replace them with new ones.

Brilliant. Lights weren't that expensive. They should just do that in the first place - but no, it was the economy. Nick had to test all the bulbs first.

"Eighty-seven," he grumbled, clipping it back into it's holder. "About two hundred to go."

Kara stood in line in the Mocha, a smile on her face. Connor being back was making her happier than she'd have thought it would. Maybe it was having someone she'd known for a long time, who understood the lifestyle of running a pub, around again. And it was bloody nice knowing she could relax her work hours a bit now there was someone else there that knew how it all was supposed to go.

Humming to herself she didn't mind the wait for her coffee.

***

Hugh was sitting at a table, laptop open and typing furiously. He'd had another dream - or something - last night and it had given him more than enough fodder for the next scene in his book. Reading glasses perched on his nose and hair sticking up wildly he typed away, oblivious to what was going on around him.

***

Gabe had spent a good bit of time gossiping with Joy while he got his coffee and now sat by the fireplace, watching the people coming and going. He loved people watching in the Manor. So many pretty things to look at.

He'd spent the morning arranging for a cleaning service which was right now taking care of his flat. Another few hours on the phone with Lisa, on and off. And then one more with the suppliers. And now...the Lamb. Ahh, it was grand to be back behind the bar, though he wasn't officially on duty, just serving up a beer now and then to anyone who needed it. It just felt so feckin' lovely to be back here, he couldn't stop grinning.

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!

Sibyl walked into the Mocha at half past eight, got a large chai latte, and collapsed on a sofa.

Things at work had gotten majorly stressful lately, and Sibyl wanted nothing so much as to forget she even existed, for a moment.-

That the old chair had broken was no real surprise to Charlie. He had mended it once before and had known it couldn't stand too much rough treatment so had offered to refurbish it completely. Mr ruprecht had snorted and told him to clean up and reglue the sprung joint and put it back in the lobby.

He squated to inspect the debris and sighed. It looked like a 'take it apart and start again' job to him.

Of course, it was all necessary and actually a privilege to get it.

But still, Sibyl hated her flu jabs just now. She'd taken off today to get them, not knowing how long she'd have to wait in the doctor's office. It was shorter than she'd thought, but now, both her arms were hurting (she had the swine flu jab in one, the seasonal one in the other), and she was feeling increasingly odd, as if somebody had replaced her brain with hot cotton candy.

She was sitting on a comfortable chair in a corner of the Mocha, with a very large hot chocolate, and hoping to feel better soon.

She couldn't work on that 1880s ball gown if her mind wasn't at least as sharp as her sewing needle!

Declan stood outside of the Mocha in the garden, wearing a casual black sweater with the sleeves pushed up and a pair of jeans. His phone was pressed to his ear and his head was in his opposite hand that also held a lit cigarette. On the other end of the line his mother was informing him that his sister was coming to stay with him whether he wanted her too or not. His sister was a grown woman, but apparently she'd gotten in some trouble and needed a change of scenery. Declan loved his sister and they'd always had fun together, but he'd never had to be responsible for her either. 

Smith sat in the back corner at a table with his back against a wall out of habit. One might say that he looked grumpy and they would be right. He was miserable and completely pissed off, which was a bad combination. He wanted to beat the shit out of something, but he'd already pounded the punching bag in the gym to dust more times than he could count this week. He missed Laura. He wanted her back, but how did he get her? He'd pretty much burned that bridge the last time he'd seen her. Sighing, he took a sip of his coffee and glared at the world in general. 

Oliva was sitting on one of the couches with her legs tucked up beside her and her shoes on the ground in front of her, wearing a dark blue sweater dress that draped to bare one shoulder. There was a bag next to her from a Halloween shop in the City and a large photo book in her lap that was all about the works of Alberto Vargas and his pin-ups. She adored retro pin-up art, and she was looking into buying one of his paintings. What better way to make an informed decision than to read up and look at all of his work?

Isabella stood in line with her hands tucked into the pockets of her new, cream colored coat. She smiled at everyone that looked at her. She was in a fabulous mood and had been for over a week now. Micah and her were getting along amazingly well, her mom had come out of her surgery okay, and things were just... Good. Almost frighteningly so.