Morningstar Manor

The test results had come in on Sunday morning, and shown that there was a chance that Thomas might, with time, recover with no permanent damage. The doctors spoke rather carefully about it, though, emphasizing that it was only a chance.

Thomas had finally stirred to some stages of consciousness during Sunday, but he had not made any sense. He had been mostly throwing up, and apparently couldn't even focus his eyes properly. He had always fallen back to unconsciousness soon after, however. Lucas had been around with Jazz on Sunday, constantly sighing worriedly and unable to concentrate on anything.

Thomas had his own room where he lay monitored. His right leg and arm were both in cast, and he still had a neck support too, and he had broken his left collarbone and several ribs as well.

On Monday Lucas had to go to work, but when Jazz arrived to the hospital, a little surprisingly there was a bunch of beautiful flowers on Thomas's bedside, and the doctor was there to meet her before she was even let into his room.

The cut on her ear had been checked and found to be more dramatic looking than it actually was. It had clotted on the ride over from Morningstar and the nurse here had done nothing more than cleaned it and dabbed some antiseptic on before sending Jazz away to the waiting room where, she'd been told, someone would be along to talk to her about Tom.

Tom.... Her chest constricted, the heavy weight that had taken up on her intensifying. He'd still been unconscious, lying so pale and still, when the ambulance had arrived at the hospital and they'd whisked him out of sight without a word to her. And she still had yet to hear anything now.
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She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as more tears threatened, telling herself to stay strong until she at least heard something. But behind her eyelids she saw herself back in the mailroom, just a few days ago, showing Tom the poster for the party and heard him saying he didn't want to go.

If only she'd listened! If only she'd left it be....

Guilt touched her soul and she knew she'd never able to forgive herself.

Rhiannon had waited inside NOIR for the car to arrive, watching in wonder as snow started to accumulate. She'd torn her closet apart for something conservative and expensive, and had come up with a white Armani dress that would show her tattoos, but there wasn't any hiding those anyway. Now she sat in the back seat of a limo, dressed in the dress, a pair of brown heels and with her hair in tamed waves, waiting to arrive and meet Tristan's mother.

Allan didn't much enjoy his times in the gallery. He was no kind of salesman - being a doing rather tthan telling sort of person - so found the office quite boring.

However there was Leena to flirt with and Sean to help with the framing and he would move stuff if asked to. It was part of the deal.

Also part of the deal was minding the desk when leena needed a break so he sat there, swinging gently in the chair and played solitaire on the desk computer.

Erin had seen the fliers promoting the pool party. Figuring it was kinda convenient that she'd just gone bikini shopping with Sterrin she wondered if Callan would be interested too.

Grabbing her phone off of the counter, she called him to ask.

The office door looked good quality and the lettering was discreet. Ylva nodded approvingly and opened the door and stepped inside.

"Good afternoon," she said, making herself sound even more east of mid-Atlantic than normal. She smiled to the woman at the desk. "I'm Sylvia Sands. I believe I have an appointment to see Miss Rossi."

Isabella knew that she should be taking the man sitting across from her seriously. He was Peter, her father's second in command, and she'd always liked him. He was giving her a very serious warning about her father being very upset with her and how that could inevitably spell bad business, but all Isabella could think about was the overwhelming smell of his cologne and how desperately it made her want to vomit. She'd smelled it on him before and it'd never bothered her, but apparently a hound's nose came along with being pregnant. Morning sickness. FHL.

Bright and early Monday morning a well paid messenger delivered a pale purple envelope. It was addressed to Miss Mackenzie and contained an invitation to lunch with Tristan's mother. The messenger left it at the desk with security, having been assured it would make it to her mailbox without problem.

His mother's request was set for Thursday afternoon, noon sharp, with the promise of sending a driver to NOIR so she would neither be lost nor late. The lack of phone number showed the woman's confidence the appointment would not be canceled.

Lee had taken Rhiannon this morning to a friend's house who had rescued a young, pregnant Japanese Spitz from a Amish puppy mill a few months ago. The dog had it's puppies not long after, all turned out healthy, and now Rhiannon carried a tiny, white, bundle of fur onto the Manor grounds that she had named Auggie.

Harvey, though excited to have a puppy, was pouting. "It's a girly dog," he said with both arms crossed. "I want something big and Badbutt. Like a Doberman or a Great Dane. Something that can eat people's heads."

"Why would you need to eat someone's head?" Rhiannon asked as she sat the puppy down in the grass to let it play. It pranced around and rolled on it's back for a belly rub, all friendliness, which made Rhiannon coo.

"Because sometimes people are bad," Harvey answered plainly and Lee followed that up with an "Mmmmhmmm. But a dog like that? Chick magnet, buddy."

Harvey's nose wrinkled. "Why would I want to attract a bunch of baby chickens?"

William Cartwright had several meetings schedule today but found himself with about an hour to spare and since he was near the Square stopped into the 290 Gallery. He'd been meaning to do this for a while now and simply hadn't found the time.

He gave the woman at the desk a polite nod.

"I was wondering if Mr. Shaw is available?" he asked. "I'm afraid I don't have an appointment."

Lee walked towards the door of the Manor and pulled out his cell to text Sarah.

Snap - In the lobby! Come tell these guys that I'm with you before I ask them to show me their night sticks.

Kate walked into the lab with a new guy flanking her. He stuck close which annoyed her, but seemed eager to do the job.
She was glad she'd be handing him off to Dr. Banks when he got back from vacation. But for now, he needed to be trained.

"Mr. Johnson," she called, even as she warmed at the sight of Brian. "This is Mr. Lance. You'll be training him. He's going to be Dr. Banks' assistant."

"Girl, I'm not even going to lie, I think I shot sparks outta my rear when he was finished," Lee  explained as he worked a dress over a manequin's head, then started to pin the fabric to make it fit.

"Jesus," Rhiannon said with a laugh. "How do we always end up talking about this at work?"

"Cuz it's the only time I ain't biz-ay," Lee said and smirked over his shoulder at Rhiannon and Miri, who burst out laughing. 

It was a fun place to work, at least. Now they just needed some customers.

Micah was early. He wanted to check the place out before Rossi got there. Eventually he got his coffee and sat down at a table.

And waited.

Thousands of miles away from the Manor, on another continent in fact, there was a contract killer sitting on a bench in a public park.

He was pretending to be enjoying a lunch of tomato, mozzarella and basil sandwiches in the bright midday sun while waiting for his contact. Being experienced at this game (and many others), he knew just what face to wear to keep all casual ladies on their lunch break well away from his bench.

For once.

Allan had been working like fuck today, and hadn't had much time to eat so dropped by one of his favourite bars on his way home.

A couple of pints and a plate of stew and colcannon later and he was feeling better and looking round for something to do.

"Mr. Grey, this is Robert Rossi. We have things to discuss. Call me back at this number and we'll set up a time."

Robert Rossi walked into his daughter's office like he owned the place because, well in his mind, he did mostly. Driven by anger and frustration, he didn't slow to take in his surroundings. The news had reached him this morning from one of his contacts in the city and he had to talk to Isabella now and hopefully make her see reason before the situation was beyond fixing.

Max stood at the large glass window in the VIP lounge looking out over his domain. It was plenty busy for a Thursday night and the crowd was growing. Of course the guards had been given a description of Sterrin's ex and, as always, were on the look out.

Max was too. He had a feeling that tonight he might show up.

This place was a lot nicer than the gym where Guy usually went. He had been greeted by a stunning Asian girl who had spoken to him in City accents as clear as his own and had grinned when he said who he had come to see.

"Sure, he's through the double doors," she said and went back to her paperwork.

And there Deacon had been and Guy had changed and done his warm up routine, and was wondering how he would acquit himself.

"Okay," he said, bouncing a little on his toes. "I'm done."