Coimbra

'Widmayer, you forget, I breakfasted already. Now sit down and do the same'. Turning his attention to Hunter, he asked.
'Have you heard from your grandfather lately?'. Hunter shook his head and popped a date into his mouth.
'Not since about a month before I sailed for Portugal. He was knee-deep in some sort of litigation with the neighbouring landowner at the time, something about field borders and tresspassing, I think. My mother is worried for his health, thinks too much excitement is not good for a man his age'.
'Hmm, you'll be glad to know that the good Count is in good health and spirits and the litigation was concluded in his favour. Though why he is so keen to fight for that village of his, when the Tsar granted him lands near Novgorod, is beyond me'.
'Must be the aristocratic nonsense of the family seat and all. Would not want his grandson to be a future Count without the family estate', replied Hunter grinning.

(OOC: sorry for disappearing, had to sacrifice a goat)

(OOC - o.o what did you do to a goat?)

"Ja, Herr.." He answered and returned to his seat. He took a little of the food offered, and while the two men talked, amused himself with the tastes and the sights of his meal. He wondered about Fandorin and his knowledge of Hunter. They spoke almost as if they were old friends. They knew each other well enough, or so it seemed. Yet, it was also true he hadn't known much about his 'master' other than he was.. a man on a mission, an experienced spyhatter at least. And he was the leader of their work and the bearer of a precious cargo which he wondered, if it would ever get to its future owner.

Not that he cared. His primary goal was to do as he was told and some more. And to learn as much as he could in the meanwhile.

(OOC: sacrificed it).

Hunter smiled at Josef's eating habits: the boy seemed to subsist on air.
'Herr von Dorn, I am of a mind to write an introductory letter for you to my mother. Perhaps she can feed the boy properly: I find women have greater powers of persuasion than we men, when it comes to food'.
Fandorin looked amused at the suggestion.
'Yes, I am sure he would not be able to refuse food that has been cooked by a woman of aristocratic blood'.

(OOC - speaking of food. I am HUNGRY)

He looked up as if aware that he was spoken of, but only by the looks that he was getting. He lowered the food, of what little he took, slowly onto his plate and looked at them as if waiting for one or the other to translate. He doubted he would understand - or rather he looked as if he doubted it - but he would try either way.

He touched the food with a fork and slowly nudged it across the plate, waiting for a while longer.

'Should we forcefeed him, Captain?' asked Fandorin, looking at Josef's antics.
'Oh, yes, let me', Hunter grabbed a fork and and slicing off a piece of a bun brought it close to Josef's mouth, smirking.

Josef looked unamusued. He studied the fork then lifted his hand up to take it from Hunter's hold politely. At about the same time he looked at Fandorin, and barely kept his feelings for this kind of amusement that the two men had, at bay.

Hunter realised his hold on the fork, then looked quite seriously at the younger man.
'You really should eat'.
Fandorin coughed into his hand covering up his amusement.

Josef looked at Hunter and as if to take some of his back, had watched him with that expression of one not really comprehending what the other was saying. He kept the fork in hand, timid, like a servant yes, but very well playing his role of one who just didn't understand what their guest .. or host rather had told him.

Hunter sighed and leaned back in his chair, a strange sort of disappointment flashing in his eyes, which he fixed on Fandorin now.
'Is there still fighting in Crimea?'
'It would seem not, there have not been reports of it for quite some time now'.

There was a brief look of triumph on Josef's face, which was quickly masked by that of slight recognition. He ate what he was given at last, but looked well satisfied with himself.

He leaned back in his chair then, a tired look on his face, for though he had tried to stay alert and awake, he hadn't slept much at all the earlier night. Getting up early so that he could observe his target turned out to take what little time he would've had sleeping from him and left him to go.. for as long as the 'hay lasted'.

Unexpectedly Hunter touched upon subject of old scandinavian legends, when in conversation with Fandorin he called Wellesley 'Sigrid the Haughty' and the two men soon found themselves deep in what could be deemed a scholarly argument.
Hunter took a bite of a suspiro and did not notice a crumb of it stick to a corner of his mouth.

Josef turned from the two men, disinterested in their argument. he watched the door with only mild interest, wondering what the other contacts were doing at the very same time. Were they waking up, plotting, receiving new messages, new secrets.

At last Hunter stood up.
'I think I'd better return before they start looking for me'. He put enough money on the table to cover the cost of food and added a generous tip for the owner. 'I'll try to let you know if there are any news as soon as I can. Goodbye'. He nodded at Fandorin, who did the same in return, and smiled briefly at Josef and the next moment he was gone.

Josef returned the smile, though subtle and then turned to Fandorin. He hoped that they might return home. There he could talk. He took the last bit of food left, and ate it with a small smile.

"..Sir?" he glanced in the direction in which Hunter had gone, then at last turned again to his 'master'.

'Yes?', Fandorin had no real desire to move for the present. He rather enjoyed just sitting in this small empty room filled with the aroma of freshly baked goods and the reddish sunlight of an early morning filtering in through the window. In such a setting it was easy to put out of mind the things that he had to deal with on a daily basis: the dirty underbelly of human existence, death, treachery and the like. He regretted briefly Hunter's departure: he rarely got the chance to speak of scholarly things.

"...leave?" He asked and sighed for he saw that if anything Fandorin did not intend to leave just yet. He slowly slipped into his seat and touched a hand to his chin.

That is exactly why Fandorin worked alone: you were own master. He stood up.
'Well, shall we? I do not think you've been to the University district yet. Let's take a walk there. It does not matter where we twiddle our thumbs'.

"Yes .. sir." Another public place, another time that he would have to remain quiet and follow and do as Fandorin wished. He had an inkling feeling that the man knew that. And that their walk , the stroll, was just made so that he could continue with it. Was he still sulking? Still upset about the earlier conversation?

'I think we should go there via a detour through the Botanical Gardens, it'll be deserted at this hour'. Fandorin had sensed that the bou wanted to talk to him about something. He just hoped it wasn't some nonsense. Picking up his cane, he strode outside and took the road that went past the Arco and would eventually lead them to the gardens.

He nodded. That would be good, and he was smiling to show that he was glad that they would take a detour. He walked to the door before Fandorin and opened it for him, waited that he would leave, and then closed it again.

Fandorin walked silently until they reached the Gardens and entered the formal part of them. Stopping by a pond, he asked.
'Well, what is it?'

"... Are you still upset sir?" He asked bluntly and looked to the pond. What had he wanted to speak with Fandorin about. Other than what their next step would be. Which he doubted Fandorin would tell him, yet he could try.

Fandorin actually was surprised by the boy for the very first time.
'Upset?'

"Yes sir. You have complained before we left.. and you have made it certain to explain as such to Hunter.. with the.. "His eyes narrowed somewhat:" Supposed school boy's treatment. I could continue.. yet, I'll rather ask. What is it, sir?"

'Did you hit your head somewhere, Widmayer?' frowned Fandorin. 'Seriously, develop of sense of humour, would you?' He paused looking back at greenish water of the pond.