London, UK

**

Tony Marinetti sat at the comfortable chair on the table that breakfast was being served on. His legs crossed, sipping on black coffee and glancing at some data on his laptop. Emily Van Woven was preparing some freshly baked croissants in the oven and was chopping up some fruit for a platter, choosing them carefully as she knew the ones Tony liked and the ones he despised, although she was of the much opposed opinion that all fruit are nice. In the background of the white kitchen was Mozart, playing his finest melodies and allowing the two people to appreciate his genius.

Tony heard the tapping of...