Time to Eat the Doughnuts

Michael didn't usually go out to eat. And especially not for breakfast. However, things were a bit different now. He was looking to keep an unseen eye on Khaat. And this was the morning she went into Sparks in the very early morning house and checked on the bistro, made purchase orders for food and supplies and equipment, paid bills, and made out payrolls--along with checking on the overall running of the place.

He had gone when the place opened before daylight today. He'd taken a copy of the Daily Prophet and had picked a table by the window so that he could keep an eye on the traffic in Diagon Alley as well as keeping an eye on every move Khaat made. She had a rather predictable habit of taking her paperwork into the dining room, sitting at the table next to the kitchen door, getting herself a large mug of French Roast coffee, and staying there until the job was done. Brian Quinn always accompanied her there and stayed with her, but for some reason, Michael didn't see him today. That did concern him--a great deal. And he resolved he was not leaving or taking his eyes off her. Not while Barker was on the loose.

A server about Michael's age had brought his Huervos Rancheros and some cheddar cheese buttermilk biscuits, and a bowl of creamy grits. Genuine American southwest recipes. The salsa was fresh and spicy and tangy. The coffee was strong and rich and nutty. There wasn't anything to dislike. It measured up to Michael's rather persnickety preferences for excellently prepared cuisine. He made a mental note to compliment Khaat on Sparks. She had excelled his every expectation and that was not easy to do.

He had the newspaper open, folded backwards on itself, and then in half to make it more manageable at the breakfast table and was shaking his head about the ridiculousness of some the things that the Prophet found noteworthy. However, it still was far and beyond the Quibbler. He refused to even buy that. He read a notice about a young couple who were beside themselves because of a magical plant apparently swiped off their porch. Really? A plant? Michael had the matter figured out in his mind, along with a simple resolution. But he knew his opinion had not been asked for. And maybe that was a good thing.

4 1 14 9 5 12.

That one sequence of numbers. Daniel recorded it into a small tape recorder in his hand. He pocketed the device once he stepped into Spark's. There was sure to be some noises that he could record in here at one point that could be used to disguise his voice. He'd set up a small temporary numbers station within the Wizard World, with magic-infused equipment so that no muggle radio could pick it up. He wasn't very focused on anything else. He knew that regular number stations used only 5 numbers or letters in the codes at a time, dividing the message into 5 digits each section before broadcast. There were no wizard number stations he knew of, so his would probably be the first. He'd use the number set he'd recorded as his interval-signal. He'd play it on the hour, then send meaningless strings of numbers over the airwaves.

He sat down, thinking to himself. A waiter approached, a young guy about Daniel's age who seemed to catch Daniel's eye. He was definitely cute, something that he couldn't say about most guys he met. That hot waiter distracted him from his work.

"What will it be today, sir?"

That line snapped Daniel out of his short little trance, his eyes focused more on the waiter's rear-end than anything else.

"A large pack of mini powdered donuts, and a large coffee" Daniel said without thinking.

As the waiter turned heel and went back to the kitchens to place the order, Daniel continued eying the man's rear. He smiled mischievously.

Michael sat and watched the morning crowd flow in and back out, chattering in friendly tones. He saw a rebellious teenaged boy--obviously a Hogwarts dropout with a really crappy attitude--come in reluctantly with his parents, tank up on creme sticks and cocoa, and then pickpocket a woman. On the boy's way out, Michael pickpocketted the boy and relieved him of his illgotten gains and successfully replaced them into the womans bag, all without being caught by any of them.

He didn't mind stealing--if it were for the right motives. But the woman who'd been the potential victim had old wornout robes. Clearly, she didn't have it to lose. If that boy wanted to become a serious thief, then he certainly needed to learn what was fair game and what was not. Actually, as Michael saw it, the lad more than likely simply wanted another reason to thwart authority, basically continuing to flip off anyone who wanted to make him accountable. Well, if he thought he could get away with that forver, then the little twit had another thing coming.

He picked up his coffee mug and took a relaxed sip, watching the little family step out into Diagon Alley and disappear down the street.

The waiter came back, he handed over a 30-pack of powdered donuts, and a large cup of coffee. It looked like an Oktoberfest stein, the kind that beer was chugged from. He slipped his cellphone number to the waiter, who blushed as he turned to serve another person. Lusty Joshua, flirty Joshua. He noticed an old guy that pickpocketed some spoiled teenager, and observed him. He eyed the older fellow, but kept it cool, just in case he could be harmful in any way. He smiled at the strange man, he seemed to know him from somewhere. Or he didn't. Maybe he did. He didn't really know. He was a bit confused anyway.

He waved at the man, seemingly compelled to at least try to talk or make some sort of effort to make a new friend. He popped one of the sugary donuts into his mouth, chewing slowly. They plastered to the roof of his mouth in a pleasant way, that was a nice feeling for him. The coffee eroded the "plaster", washing it all down his throat and making the coffee sweet. It washed on his tongue and created a warm sensation.

Michael saw one of Robert's young aurors seated across the way. The boy was young enough that he looked perpetually lost. He ordered a decent breakfast plate and had one of the servers deliver it to the boy with a note. The note read, "Aurors do not live by doughnuts alone, Lad. Equip yourself, or prepare to lose the war."

Michael knew from experience that certain people needed to be ready for anything at any time, and feeding oneself on doughnuts might work for an hour at best, but then one was bound to get hopelessly sleepy as one's metabolism kicked out. At this rate, if he had to fight a duel, young Daniel would fall asleep at the wand. And, unless it were just sparring practice, that could be deadly. Well, hell. If he had to spar against Robert, that might bloody well be next to deadly. Clearly the boy had no decent idea about who he worked for. Not yet. But if Michael knew Robert at all, that was about to change. And, if he knew Robert, this poor innocent boy had no clue about the rigorous wizarding bootcamp he was about to toss himself into. Cethin would come out of it, no doubt, a fine young auror, but bloody hell. There were some edges to round off him, weren't there?

Daniel was fine with eating the donuts that he mindlessly ordered from the attractive waiter, however someone had ordered a meal for him. A note came with it, which he read carefully. He asked the server who brought it to write a note to the person who ordered the breakfast for him that said "blame the hot waiter, he made me lose my concentration and order the wrong thing". The server did just that, and sent it over.

Daniel pushed the donuts aside. He'd take them home later. The breakfast plate was calling to him, begging for him to devour it. He made short work of the plate, his fast metabolism kicking in to allow him to eat all of it without feeling too full. The feeling of hunger wheedled away with every bite, and for that he was thankful. The powdered donuts only made him a bit hungrier. He never realized that though. He never realized that potential of having the sugary foods. He'd finished the plate before him, looking at the empty dish. He pushed around a small crumb of egg white with his fork and pondered his life thus far.

Michael finished his own breakfast and decided to see if Cethin had a clue about what he'd gotten himself into. He rose from his table, tucking his paper under his arm, and picking up his coffee cup. He saw Khaat glance up and catch his eye. He saw her beautiful smile, and he went over to her. She stood up, and he hugged her and kissed her. He could see that she was delighted that he had decided to try her bistro, and he was pleased that she had done so well for herself. She refilled his coffee for him and invited him to her table.

Instead, he excused himself for a moment, and he went over to Cethin. "Good for you," he said to him, sitting down at Daniel's table. "Well done. You passed one of the most basic tests you will ever face in your job, but, knowing who you work for, I do need to ask you. Did you understand the lesson? And, before you answer, it's not just about eggs vs. doughnuts."

Michael liked Daniel. And he wanted to see Daniel survive himself. Daniel had amazing potential, but it did need to be channeled the right direction.

"That Aurors should always have what's best for them, and to take an opportunity when it comes?" That's what Daniel drew from it. The breakfast was an opportunity. He could've easily denied it, but he instead took it. Which was the right decision for himself. He was a bit scrawny, and needed an extra layer of fat upon his body. He'd take the donuts home and send them to Brienne and Luna via owl. That's what he felt was best and he felt that he should do that.

The tape recorder in his pocket bumped against the table, and it started repeating the numbers that Daniel spoke earlier as a recording for an interval mark for his radio station. Four, one, fourteen, nine, five, twelve. The numbers were of a number equals letters origin. His first name in numbers. He'd interlace the recording with some other ones, specifically weird music he'd found on old tapes. He was getting way too deep into this whole numbers station stuff, that's what he thought and knew. He quickly clicked the recording off. The recording in which he spoke in his most mechanical voice that he could adopt.

"Ah," Michael smiled. "The lad can think. Good. I knew Robert liked you for a very good reason. Daniel, our new minister is a potionsmaster. And as such, he knows how to gather raw ingredients and make something that is, oftentimes, highly valued out of them. It is very clear to me that he sees the same potential in you. You seem to posess all of the right 'stuff', as it were, to have the makings of a fine auror. You merely need to know how to use those gifts and then have the opportunity to practice those skills unti you refine them.

"I want to see you succeeed at your new career, but more than that, I want to see you succeed at whatever you want for your life. One of the most critical lessons that he and Brian Quinn will teach you is that your greatest tools as an auror lie within yourself. Your brain, your physical skills, your speed, your finesse with a wand. In order to use those, you need to take care of your body, not just at minimum standards, but to do your best to make it shine. You're going to find it is worth your while in ways you don't comprehend yet to have absolutely sterling nutrition, good quality sleep, and good training--physically, mentally, and magically. And if you want to do well in that training, you'll start with what you can do--that is getting the best in nutrition and rest that you can possibly get. Robert will hone your magical skills, and Brian Quinn will help you shape your body in ways you didn't believe it could be. All of that will fit together in a way that just might save your life someday."

"You think I'm that special?" Daniel smiled softly, in a wide, bird like way. He looked so innocent and harmless in the mornings, almost inquisitive like a sparrow or a magpie. All the Cethins looked inquisitive, and quite darling because of it. However, they also had great skills which they managed to use right under the right guidance. Daniel would be the best example of that right now.

"I'm actually looking forward to training and such. I've not had a decent amount of training or anything since....well I don't really know. All I know is that I've not fought in a good long time and my body probably needs to acclimate to fighting once more". He looked down at the scrawny mass of himself, it was so ratty and scampy looking. He looked as if he were too young to be 19, like he was actually a child even though he wasn't. He'd indeed lived for 19 years, and appeared as innocent and harmless throughout all of them. He wanted to finally be tough and earn the respect of those who'd mocked him, and to do good for the Wizard Community. Especially since hard times were falling upon it.