Anyone who has not tasted coffee from the machine installed at the police station has no idea of any bad coffee. However, hospital coffee successfully refuted this theory: according to the stickers, the vending machines were produced by the same company, but the coffee tastes really disgusting here. Most likely, the blame for this was the gloomy news - in the hospital people died more often than in the station. Or in this way, the coffee lovers tried to get away from the addiction.
However, I decided to take the risk, hoping that the latte would be less disgusting than the espresso. My mother believed that milk was getting better.
Nightingale looked desperate enough when he asked if I knew where to get coffee here. The nurses were determined not to help him. And since he saved London a couple of hours ago in a suicide spurt, the hand did not rise to refuse the hero. Dr. Walid wouldn't have approved, but a tiny plastic cup wouldn't have hurt.
- Is it cocoa? - Nightingale specified by stirring the light brown substance in the cup.
- Latte," I thought he might not know the term and added. We have a similar coffee machine in the police department.
Nightingale sipped off the cup with obvious disbelief and quickly put it aside.
- Is it disgusting at all?
- It's disgusting," Nightingale said. - It's "disgusting," not "disgusting," Peter. I think I understand Inspector Sivelle better now.
- Do you also want to take my badge away from me?
- No, I can see why he was eager to accept my reports at Folly rather than summoning me to his station. I thought he was doing it out of respect for my age. Or status.
- Or doesn't he want to have uncomfortable questions?
As soon as Inspector Sevell heard the word "magic," he was puffed up like a balloon with anger.
- Maybe both," Nightingale sighed. - And around the corner of the hospital isn't a nice little coffee shop lurking by accident?
- I'm afraid not," Dr. Walid would call it a lie to save him. That cute little coffee shop served really good, but too strong coffee. - Unless there's a special spell to turn bad coffee into good coffee.
If there was such a spell, it would definitely be good for me.
- It's easier to turn water into wine," laughed Nightingale.
- Well, I had to ask.
- Of course I did.
Whether or not that was hospital coffee was an open question, but Nightingale recovered from his injury in record time.
- How about some coffee? - Nightingale asked. - Around the corner, a nice little coffee shop was opened.
The last magician we caught with alternative ethics deprived me of the opportunity to say a word. Damn vindictive French!
The curse had already worked after we handed the criminal over safely to the French consul, otherwise he wouldn't have got off easily.
There was no need to go to hospital, but Dr. Walid was relentless in his desire to study a new clinical case. In the hospital, as he put it, I was under 24-hour surveillance and would not do anything stupid. Too much precision medical technology was there to risk it.
- I asked her to add more milk," Nightingale continued. The drink was a noble creamy shade and the foam was curled by a spiral. - And Molly sends her regards.
I wove sandwiches on both cheeks and didn't immediately notice that Nightingale had switched to you. Sometimes he'd switch to "you" for distraction, but he'd get better. He didn't now. He wanted to show me what he was visiting me not only as a colleague, but as a friend of mine as well?
- Did you see that you were put in my room?
All the hospital rooms here looked the same. The hospital was renovated after the war according to a standard design, and there was nothing special about it. Except for the commitment of modern architects to sterile white and plasterboard.
- Mmm, - nothing but mooing, I just nodded in the end.
- Folly used to have a wing in the hospital," Nightingale boasted, and immediately darkened, remembering the reason. - A separate room for magicians is also good.
I took a sip and put the glass aside, hoping I hadn't accidentally repeated the same gesture of Nightingale's first acquaintance with a coffee machine. The coffee he brought wasn't bad - nothing could match the coffee machine burda. Just as if to say, the drink did not resemble coffee, but milk by pure chance poured into a dirty coffee glass. Creamy shade was given to it by cinnamon filled with cinnamon from above.
If the spells that turn bad coffee into the one you like have not yet been invented, it was worth working on the question. I felt empowered to do theoretical research. It couldn't have been that no great wizard had ever wondered that question. What if one terrible day for Folly Molly asked for a calculation?
- I see I didn't guess with the coffee, but I have something else for you. Abdul said there were always problems with interesting books in the hospital.
Nightingale brought me magic books.