Morningstar Manor

Eurovision Song Contest!

There used to be some serious Gay Cred attached to that, but by now, it was just fun for all, a reason to party, not to be taken serious, but with a drink and some friends to mock the unluckier entrants, their fashion and musical gaffes; a chance to be thoroughly camp, whatever one's actual sexual orientation.

So Andras had gone to the Lamb, just as in the years before, persuadded Molly to find a satellite channel that carried it, and then settled down at the bar with a pint of cider and a bowl of peanuts to watch the silliness.


[[OOC: Party post! Jump in, take a drink, threadhop, relax!]]

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.

Last night they had cleared up the glass and had taped a sheet of polythene over the frame to stop any other bits dropping out. In order to take the frame down they'd need to close off the corridor completely and hey couldn't do that while the party was in progress.

But now it was quiet and Nick and Charlie worked well together, each with partners about the size of the other so used to playing on each others strengths.

Charlie said, "Okay, that's got it, Just hold it there a moment," and Nick supported the weight of the mirror while Charlie got down from the step ladder.

Together they lowered the beautiful frame to the dustsheet, wincing as more pieces of glass fell.

"Can you restore it?" Nick asked and Charlie shrugged.

"I can make it look as good as new," he said, "but it won't be the same. There are some things one can't replace."

"No," Nick said with a sigh. "I guess not. Any idea what might have happened to them?"

"Well I did wonder ..." Charlie said and took a little scrap of carved wood with an even smaller chip of mirror set into it from his pocket. He tilted it to show Nick. "I used to use it to give Marek a lift. I guess it's too small for two though. Ah well, let's get the mirror down to the Mousehole and I'll see what I can manage."

With a big party on Sunday night, and nobody wanting to work that day, obviously, Nick was taking no chances. Although the maids cleaned the ballrooms he had gone into them to change the lightbulbs and top up toilet paper, hand towel and soap dispensers.

Then he gave the top third of the big mirror a polish. One of the shorter girls must have done it and had missed some bits.

At the end of October would be the usual Hallowe'en Ball and Nick had takent eh decision that this year he wouldn't be caught out at the last minute for checking the chandeliers for dust and blown bulbs. So he was up a ladder with a bright yellow duster tucked into his left back pocket and was replacing a light bulb.

It was an annoying task. He had to turn on the light, make a note of which bulbs were blown, replace them, get down, turn on the light as see if he had remembered right. Problem was that the angle he was looking at the chandelier when he was by the light switch was very deceptive. He was having to do them one at a time and fix his eyes on the duff ones as he climbed the ladder. It was taking ages.

The shop was taking shape and new stock was arriving daily. Ben had got into a routine for dealing with it - he could shelve while workmen were there, they didn't like him under foot, so he did it in the evenings, when it was quiet - when he had nothing better to do.

Tuesday evening he got his sack truck and stepped out of the back door of the bookstore to fetch another crate of books from the lock up but what he saw made him scowl and then made him hurry across to the lock up opposite and hammer on the half open door.

There had been shopping earlier, and Alec was confident it had gone well.

Gavin was currently racing - as fast his chubby little legs would carry him - around and around the lawn, chasing Faith and laughing uproariously in time to the little ghost stuffie he clenched tightly in one little hand. Every time the wee tyke squeezed a might too hard the cheerily grinning ghost lit up and shook and shimmied to the "Monster Mash."

Ang would probably kill him later, and make sure the toy disappeared the instant Gavin went to bed, but right now, his son's face made it totally worth it.

It was a sunny Saturday morning in the City, and around eleven, you found several of the Manor population in the garden, with beverages from the Mocha, enjoying one of the last sunny mornings this summer might afford them. Among them were:

• Maude Temminck, who was sitting on a bench with a small latte, watching her two-year-old granddaughter Morgan carefully stack pebbles nearby. Occasionally, she made a note in a little Moleskine notebook she took from her purse every time a thought struck her.
• Chandika Malhotra, who was talking on the phone to a friend in an excited mix of Hindi and English while walking up and down with a large mocha with all the extras, cream and sprinkles. It was her day off, Rahul was with his dad, Bethan was working, and Chandika felt like being all young and irresponsible again for one day, so she'd called Anjali, and they were planning and afternoon and evening of spending money and causing very mild outrage. Hanu had lost himself somewhere in the undergrowth, but would of course come when whistled for, so she wasn't worried.
• Cindy Papadopoulos was sitting and drinking straight coffee in her wheelchair by the entrance to the conservatory because WLAN signal strength tended to be especially good around there; she was going through her email on her laptop and throwing a ball for Axminster every time he came bouncing up with it, which however hadn't happened for a few minutes now. Cindy had seen Hanu and his missus earlier, so guessed that the dogs were probably chasing mucklas or wrackspurts in the undergrowth together.
• Sibyl Grey was in the maze, with a chai latte, and carefully explored the rather awe-inspiring passages. This wasn't her first time in here, but it was different each time, somehow. She'd just met two stray greyhounds, one smaller and brindled, one larger and a lovely silvery grey, who were very friendly, so she'd put her cup on a bench and was bending down to pat them both as the looked up at her and lashed their whip-like tails.

Nick had asked around all the usual places, plus a few unusual ones, and in the end it had been Kelsey from the ex-skate shop who had put him in touch with a possible replacement for Zack. It was a bit of a surprise that the kid lived at the Manor, but there you go.

Nick had called and arranged a meeting. He glanced at his watch and made a face through the glass of the gallery at Charlie who grinned and continued to count the float.

Andras was sitting outside the Auberge, with his iPad and a large café au lait, making lists.

He's planning possible classes for the urban teenagers, and thinking of who else he could ask.


[[OOC: For everybody who wanted in on the classes at the community centre: This is the opportunity to join up!]]

Kris had been passing the florists and had been drawn in by the wonderful heady scent. Now he was crossing the Square with his purchases - a bunch of brilliant orange tiger lilies and a cactus of hilariously suggestive shape - and was debating what to drop of where. Celeste seemed like a good sport but would she appreciate a wang shaped cactus? Demitri on the other hand would probably find it as funny as he did.

Sometimes being sophisticated was such hard work that Kris gave it a miss.

###

Ylva was in Riverwalk Park with her lunch and a book. She was possibly a little too close to the Manor for comfort but the park was full of blondes today, she'd blend in.

She crossed long tanned legs, settled her sunglasses more firmly on her nose and turned a page.

###

The roof garden was open again, if a little sparse of plants, and Nick was on his knees unpacking the crate that had been left for the Manor by the Sexton family. At least this time there had been family. So often, he'd heard, they had carefully packed the lost life away into boxes and crates, had sent the furniture to auction for charity and had packed everything away. Rooms and rooms full of memories and nobody to appreciate them.

But this was another matter, he thought, as he uncovered the piece of relief sculpture and the discreet little plaque he was supposed to mount near it.

###

Allan lay flat on his back in the garden, with his eyes closed and his arms spread out. The un shone down and he was warm and drowsy and full of lunch and thinking hard about his latest bronze. It was back and he was halfway through finishing it and he was worried that Deacon and Charlie wouldn't like it. It hadn't turned out the way he'd intended at all.

But he'd worry about that later. For now he was warm - and might go to sleep.

Leo had tea and Jimmy had coffee.
Charlie chose a muffin,
Vanilla or banoffee.
Allan, all bruised,
And Vincenzo, off duty,
sighed as they glimpsed
Ms Vale's passing booty.
Nick scowled at Scruffy,
Scruffy wagged his tail.
Fin pieced together
some dog-spitty mail.
And finally Ruth, with her nose in a book,
didn't spare any of the above one look.
There in the Mocha, one girl and seven boys,
Trying to give Maru's pups a bit of choice.

Poor Charlie was exhausted after everything that had happened last night and Seth didn't have the heart to wake him. So he'd let his friend sleep and left him a note letting him know that Seth was headed down to the gardens for a bit of drawing in the sun.

And after a brief stop in the Mocha for a large cup of coffee that's just where he was, sitting on a bench in the morning sun, sketch book open on his lap and drawing a lovely woman kneeling by the flowers a little ways away. The woman wasn't actually there when he looked up, but he drew her anyway. It just seemed right.

iPad resting against his knee, Nick flicked a finger across the screen to turn the page of this weeks NME. He nodded with satisfaction as he found the album review and again as he read it. The kids in the band probably wouldn't be pleased at the laconic tone of it, feeling that the NME was old hat and UK based to boot, but those in the know would read and make a mental note. It was a good review and he had made them all work hard to get it.

He sipped his coffee and turned another page, this time looking for gossip.

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?"

Susan stood on a tall step ladder in the Conservatory and cleaning the large windows, panel by panel. She was angrily grumbling with every swipe, getting water drops on the apron and skirt of her maid's outfit, and getting more and more convinced that she had not thought this maid-plan through as well as she should have. She had not realized that she wouldn't be only cleaning apartments all the time.

Vincenzo was having a break in the conservatory, which was just as well as he was trying to deal with a call from his mother. "I know," he said. "Well, we have been telling her to look for a better job. It's not her fault it's in Chicago. No ... no, I won't tell her she can't go. Good luck to her. And it's not as though she'll be leaving before the wedding. She has insisted on being free for that. Yes, if necessary I'll take her there myself. AND check out her accommodation. Sure Mom, yes I will. Yes, bye, Mom."

He put down the phone and gave a deep sigh. Between his sister exulting because she had landed a good job in Chicago and his mother complaining because ditto life was getting overly complicated.

###

Guy had been summoned to pick up one of the tenants - Mrs Phillips, a real looker who tipped well, so he could put up with her leading comments about the length of his shifts and what he did in his spare time - but today he was a little early so he leaned against the hood of his cab and texted Sean, grinning as he got a reply.

###

Kris had laundry. Rosa had offered to do it for him but today he was in the mood for some tedious drudgery - while Gabe accepted and stowed a load of Spa supplies. Naughty, yes, but oh so satisfying.

He grinned as he ambled across the lobby on his way to wash his Egyptian cotton sheets, as yet unshared, but surely only a matter of time.

###

Nick yawned as the elevator opened into the lobby. Mrs Eddings chuckled and waved him out.

"I hope that means you've been having a good time," she said in her cracked and wheezy old lady voice.

"Oh you betcha," he lied and she went on her way happy.

Nick yawned again and headed for the basement to fetch another lock and set of keys. Second time this month Mr Paris had got locked out but why did he always have to break the door down?

Show off.

###

Charlie had dropped Nia off at day care and was now drawing in the Mocha. Vincenzo looked troubled, Guy looked cheerful, Kris looked like he was planning something and Nick - Nick looked exhausted.

Angling his pencil Charlie sketched them all into the drawing he was constructing, but tilted the page coyly whenever someone walked behind him. Gay vampire pirate cartoons weren't to everyone's taste.

It had been a wonderful day, and Urquhart was sitting outside on Vine Square, watching the sun set over the the rooftops, and between the twigs and branches of the trees. The sunset today was a lovely, bloody orange, and the wine in his glass was a lovely dark red.

And there was more of it in a bottle beside the low wall he was sitting on. There might even have been another glass to share with a friendly passer-by.

They couldn't have asked for better weather. Here - away from the City and the Manor - Spring was stirring and even though the wind coming off the lake was still cool the day was warm. Warm enough for light jackets anyway and breakfast on the back deck.

This time Deacon had gotten up early to start breakfast, letting Charlie sleep in a bit - or at least as long as he could before Nia woke up and pounced on him. Nick arrived shortly after Deacon had gotten the coffee going and Deacon had sent him out to hide the eggs. When he came back in Deacon handed him a big cup of coffee.

"None hidden to high for little girls right?" he asked the big man.

"Nope," Nick said with a grin. "But I hid a few little things at about Seth's eyeline. Don't see why the kiddies should have all the fun." ( Read more... )