Morningstar Manor

Urquhart was outside, leaning against the wall not far from the entrance to the Mocha, having a quiet smoke and looking up all the way to the roof in the fading evening light.

He was sure he'd seen something or somebody up there just now.-

The pool house would soon be open - or so rumour had it - and Ruth had come up to have a look around the roof garden and see if she could see what improvements had been made.

Sadly the huge arching windows were obscured by sheets of protective paper but the evening was pleasant so she found a place to sit and looked out over the city.

Somewhere out there was Mr Urquhart. She still wasn't too sure what she felt about that.

Urquhart was sitting outside the Auberge, making use of what might well be one of the last nice warm days of the year.

He was reading a book about the life of Harry Houdini. That man seemed to have been not just a great escapologist, but also a very interesting sceptic.

Ghost stories, bah.-

Urquhart had pondered this quite a lot, and then decided to do this by the book. Ruth, straddling the border line between 'totally focused expert' and 'potential Aspie' the way she did, probably had read some book on this in preparation, and might be reassured by elements she recognised.

So Urquhart arrived shortly before seven, wearing a civilised suit and tie instead of his more common leather jacket, and carrying a small, appropriate bouquet as a gift for Ruth.

If somebody he knew (like Sterrin, or Cambion) happened to see him, they would most likely poke fun at him, but it couldn't be helped. He didn't do this out of a strange vanity, or in a bout of wanting to be conventional, after all. This made sense.

Civilisation had rules so people didn't have to reinvent the wheel every time they wanted to get from A to B. This might be doubly helpful for somebody who found ancient pots much more easy to deal with than living people.

Ruth had washed the dishes after their meal and was just heading for her room to do some reading when the phone rang. She looked around for Sybil but she wasn't in sight so Ruth picked up the receiver and said, "Hello?"

The receptionist had been told to call Ruth as soon as her visitor arrived because Ruth liked to be prepared. So when she heard the knock on the door the kylix was on her desk with all the necessary packing materials to hand.

"Come in," she called.

Ruth had jut time before she went home, she calculated, so flipped her phone book open to 'U' and made a call.

As the phone rang she eyed the reconstructed kylix on her desk with affection. It looked almost as good as new.

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.

Leo had actually been into the office on a Sunday, not unheard of but not a regular occurrence, because Carnahan had called him to say that some papers from Pangolin had been misdirected to his office and that he had, shamefully, forgotten to mention it. He had offered Leo Sunday evening dinner in recompense and Leo had accepted cheerfully, then had put the phone down and cursed and got down there sharpish. Now he was back, envelope in pocket, considering options and ready for tea - possibly iced because it was a warm day.

#

Vincenzo greeted Lawyer Beck on his way through the lobby then settled back in his seat and eased his collar. It was hot. He might have to fetch the one of the fans from the security suite. They didn't need ALL of them in there.

#

Ruth had finished her laundry and paused to look in the mail room. She felt - restless - and couldn't work out why.

On impulse she spoke to the young man at the security desk and he smiled and agreed to keep her small package of laundry, neatly folded inside a pillow case, in his cupboard until she came back for it, and she hitched her purse under her arm and went for a walk. Maybe to the park - or the Square.

Though she would probably end up at the museum.

#

The lack of the pool house was being felt quite keenly by some of the residents so Charlie had obtained an extra large and extra tough paddling pool and obtained permission to put it on a sunny patch of ground not far from the gazebo. Overnight he and Nick and Phil had put it up and filled it and now the sun was busy warming it.

He sat on the grass laughing as Nia, in a very frilly swimsuit, dipped her hands in and squealed and ran about shaking them and going "brrrrrrrrrrr". The way the temperature was rising it would soon be milk warm and he might even have a paddle himself.

Dr Ruth Mitchell smiled grimly as she pressed 'send' on her latest email to the Head of Egyptology.

"Take that," she murmured. "And I hope you choke on it."

That would teach him to encroach on her department's storage area.

The phone rang and she stared at it, assuming it was the recipient of the email then she answered and listened and nodded. "Very well," she said. "Send him up."

She put the phone down and went to get the box from her cupboard.

There was a knock on the door. This time, Urquhart had found the way quite easily by himself.

( About Ancient Greeks... )

Time to check on the poor mistreated kylix, Urquhart decided. So he was leaning at the front desk of the museum, asking for Dr. Mitchell, hoping she'd be there.

He was still feeling quite barbaric about what he had done. If he'd known that the thing was quite that special, he'd probably smashed one of the others.

But perhaps the others were special as well?

His contact had obviously sent him the real thing. Urquhart was wondering whether a fake would have done. She could have told him it was one, and then...

Then what?

No, the sacrifice had probably been necessary, painful though it was.

"Mr who?" Ruth said, frowning. The phone bleated a bit and she shrugged and said, "No, he can come up if he likes. We met where?.. Oh .. OH!" She blinked and returned the phone to its cradle and looked around the lab.

Too late to do anything about it now.

But she did move a box off a chair so her visitor could sit down if he wanted to.

Urquhart was sitting on the base of the Vine Square Angel, lazing in the late afternoon sunshine like a big, relaxed wolf.

He had coffee from the Auberge (several cups, in the course of the afternoon) and watched and listened to all that went on. A bit earlier, all the cab drivers had suddenly called to each other about an emergency at a gay rally in Riverwalk Park, and the the cabs had departed from their usual line by the edge of the Square, like a flock of birds taking to wing.

Urquhart had got up and fetched himself another coffee.

There were several people around Vine Square going about their business this fine Saturday morning. Nobody would have thought there had been a blizzard only a week ago!

	Andras was wheeling his bike over the Square, talking into his phone as he went. "No, she won't want any fucking promotional items, you fucking moron," he growled. "She's a fucking pro and wants to use stuff she fucking knows. Where the fuck did you get my fucking phone number anyway, you fucking dick, and on a fucking Saturday morning!" He glared at his phone as he disconnected the annoying call. He'd need some coffee now!
	Charlotte was leaving the Auberge just at that moment, having paid up, carrying three dainty shopping bags that screamed of luxury, and looking airily around her. Had the air just turned a shade bluer?
	Cindy was visiting her building site, where the plasterers were putting in an extra shift so everybody could get on with things on Monday. Of course, they were being paid for it, but she still thought it great that they'd give up their Saturday instead of keeping everybody back another day. So she was bringing them several large bags full of Chinese food from those little folding boxes, fresh from a restaurant three blocks down, as a surprise lunch.
	Maude was hesitating in front of the gallery windows. She had had a call from a friend in California, who knew a friend who had a question. Pity Andy wasn't working here any more. So, Maude was pretending to look at the things in the windows while trying to determine who was there.
	Chandika was rather exhausted and made a beeline for the Auberge as well. She'd done lots and lots of Easter shopping. With a Catholic flat-mate, there was an excuse to get a good breakfast for when Bethan came from church, nice dinner, and lots of seasonal candy. You were never too old for hot chocolate with tiny yellow peeps in! But you had to find all the stuff somewhere.
	Ricky was sitting on the base of the bronze angel, smoking a roll-up. It was not discernible as anything but an ordinary roll up, but you could never tell what might be in one of Ricky's roll-ups. He wasn't quite completely happy. Something had gone wrong lately, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
	Sibyl had been browsing the disreputable antiques shop that was still sprawling through several old garages, workshops and commercial storage space in an alley off Vine Square. She was proudly carrying three late 19th century dining chair with their upholstery in an unspeakably vile state. But re-upholstering a chair was one of Sibyl's most familiar tasks; she'd find some nice fabric, pamper the wood a little, and then make them all pretty again. The substance of the chairs was completely sound, so she proudly lugged the apparent ruins across the Square.
	Urquhart was lounging on what was, temporarily, his own doorstep, sipped a coffee he'd fetched from the Auberge, and watched people. By now, he knew where he was going with this contract. Some rumours about the Manors were rather weird, though. Some were quite silly. A few were laugh-out-loud preposterous. One or two were actually worrisome.

[[OOC: Open all weekend and Monday! Say in your tag whom you want!]]

The Foundry Market was only a little detour on the way home from the museum, so Ruth got her fruit and vegetables and got into the queue and paid. Tonight she would make a red onion and spinach quiche.

Once she had made her purchases she strolled amongst the stalls, scanning them for items of interest. She paused for a moment when she was greeted by the sculptor who lived at the Manor - he was buying apples - then walked on, not quite ready to go home yet.

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."

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?"

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.