“It never ceases to amaze me what people speak of in the open, among the cacophony I don’t suppose they consider that a keen ear might be listening in, it’s often the easiest form of entertainment after all.” -Dr. Toussaint Renou

A loud and boisterous laughter filled the Hearthside one early afternoon. A character larger than most lives (as it would appear) sat up at the bar and called for his drink to be poured with haste. Hernando Lucio greeted a few of the familiar faces that chose to acknowledge his presence. The Spaniard lit his cigar, inhaling its vitality. He held it out to admire the make and brand before grabbing it between his teeth.

"Jean-Henri!”

He called out to a young gentleman of small stature who had just walked into the cafe. “Where is that skinflint Gerard at? I would admire him more if it wasn’t my money!” He gave a self assured laugh to himself waving Jean-Henri over.

Jean-Henri made his way over toward the bar, carrying a full leather bag. “Here, allow Gerard to buy you a drink on his interest. . . ”

Hernando waved his arm to have another mug poured for his companion. “Don’t let the froth go to waste. . .” With a hard pat on the shoulder, he nearly knocked Jean-Henri off the stool the second he sat down. The Barkeep slid the mug down the bar with ease, which nearly splashed in Jean-Henri’s face as he sat himself up proper.

“You’re too slight, you should eat more, perhaps Gerard should buy you lunch too, eh?!” Hernado breathed a cascade of smoke out of his nose causing his companion to cough in reply. “No… No thank you that won’t be necessary.”

“Suit yourself! Say, Baptiste is there any of that soup left?!” Hernardo cried only to have no response from the busy cook behind the stove.

A loud thud broke Hernando’s attention, the large leather bag lay up on the bar, its contents a mystery.

“Hey, what’s in the bag?! You didn’t have a big score and not let me in on the cut I hope?” Hernando gave Jean-Henri a nudge, and nodded his head towards the bag.

Jean-Henri gave a nervous glance over his shoulder. “It’s something I need Oliver to appraise once he wakes up.”

“Oh yeah? How about you have me appraise it? I was in the Army, I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. You should have me look at it, and I’ll take a small cut once you cash it in, if it’s worth anything of course!”

“That’s quite all right, it’s kind of a private matter.” He whispered carefully.

“You’re much too tense friend! You need that drink more than I do, and I have people on the look out for me! Ugly fellows, that hold grudges for a very long time. That’s what happens when you’re in the Army, it’s a small world friend. Have I ever told you about the time I was seduced by a General’s wife?”

Jean-Henri grabbed his mug and nursed the beer carefully while Hernado began to wax a story of his own telling. He had told it many times before, however Jean-Henri found it best to keep Hernando entertained until the rest of their companions arrived.

“It was about seven years ago, and I was not very well experienced in the world, however where I grew up I was no doubt more experienced than men twice my age. . .!”

The busy crowd departed from the cafe, a little more relieved, and a little more enlightened, a little more full. While they naturally filtered out the door one by one, two figures remained seated on opposite sides at a small table overlooking a game of Chess.

A lone pawn moved forward from the starting formation. “When in doubt move a Pawn. . .” Baptiste said with a sigh in his breath to his much younger opponent. He leaned back in his chair comfortably overlooking the parting lunch crowd, his liteau casually draped over his shoulder from a long and busy morning.

“Why a Pawn? Why not a Knight, or a Bishop?” Julien replied inquisitively, with his small frame leaning over the table, like a commander trying to grasp the whole battlefield with his attention alone.

“Life is not made up of dashing bravado Julien. . . It is made up of the subtle flavors, that more often than not. . . compliment a much larger one.”

Julien brought his hand under his chin and pressed his knight forward, then gazed nervously over the board.

“You see Julien. . .” Baptiste sat up to give his opponent the full attention he deserved, while move after move played out he freely explained the world strategy the best he could comprehend it.

“. . . a roast is a magnificent thing to behold. However, a roast is not just a roast, by itself it is bland and lacks flavor. However so one day a chef decided he would add some onions. . . Then a bit of salt, and pepper for seasoning… Why not a bit more flavor with some garlic cloves?”

He casually moved the pieces out without a second thought, all the while Julien continued to listen more than focus as his hands followed suit, wrapped up in Baptiste’s metaphor.

“Then someone decided a turnip would also go well, some carrots. . .” He paused briefly in thought then moved his next piece. “And, why not? Some celery…”

Folding his arms over his chest, he waited on his opponent patiently. “And do you know what made the French roast best?”

Moving his queen forward Julien replied . “No, what made it best?”

Baptiste replied with a sly smile moving his pawn forward. “Cabernet Sauvignon. . . Which would bring a coup de grâce to the most bland of pallets, and opponents, Checkmate.” With that being said Baptiste stood up from his chair and returned to prep from the next commute.

“What?!” Julien grabbed his hair with his hands and gazed somberly over the pieces.

“It’s about time you’ve gotten out and about Salomon. I assume you’ve gotten over your fear of the Consumption?” Gerard peered down to the slight figure with a handkerchief held over his face.

“Or not.”

Gerard quipped to his friend and sat down to join him at the lone table.

“Merely a cold, that damn fool last month kept coughing and would not stop. Surprised we’re not all infected. He should have coughed himself into a grave and got it over with.!” With a raise of his hand Gerard signaled the waiter to bring him and his companion coffee.

“Salomon you read far too many medical journals in your spare time. I hope you’ve spent time working on something worthwhile since your absence. “Pocketing his handkerchief, he reached in his other pocket to produce a small booklet.

“That Oliver fellow had a crowd gathered the other night. He has quite the gift for oratory, and I thought it would make a most interesting project to document the stories he tells. Not unlike that of the Grimm Brothers, however why travel through Europe if one can simply sit back at The Hearthside?”

A loud coughing rang out not far from Salomon’s table causing his eyes to shoot wide in a quiet panic.

“Why indeed. . .” Gerard said with a smile, happy to have his coffee at last brought to the table.