Whispers run through the various orders in the city of London. The key players take little notice of the rumour mill, there are more important things to worry about than a small favour.
For others, the message is clear: Oz needs a favour.
Not a big one, mind. Just enough to get into her good graces, just enough to show that various mages still appreciate Hayfich and it's almost consulate status.

The invitations have already been sent out, just a cuppa tea with Oz. Talk about what she needs, let her find out who the newest faces in the city are.

Nevern Square is a five minute walk from the Earl's Court Tube Station. The buildings that line the street face into a small park that is lovingly maintained.
20 Nevern Square was once a small hotel that saw modest business, but these days it has all but dropped off the map as far as sleepers are concerned. The front of the building matches it's neighbours, red brick and tall windows that boast floral curtains inside.
A small bell signifies the entry of any who can take notice of the four story building.

Oz sits in the front sitting room, ginger hair pulled back in a pony tail and already conversing with a young man. Their mugs are full of still cooling tea and the conversation is currently light.

Weaver-of-the-Nexus stepped out of the Earl's Court station, walking with the unhurried slog of a native denizen of the tubes.  The spiky bangs of her short dark hair were dyed a brilliant electric blue, obscuring any hint of her eyes as she trudged the sidewalk towards Hayfich.  A typical Millennial, she never even bothered to look up from her phone as her feat ate up the ground.  Her fingers, escaping from finger-less leather gloves laser etched with obscure looking runes, danced over the keyboard with the ease and familiarity of a digital native.  She looked like a Millennial as well, or at least, one of the urban kids connected with the fashion and festival scenes.  Her ears and nose were covered with piercings, and her heavy black jacket was similarly adorned with patches and stitch work.  Where she deviated from the rest of her generation was what she was doing on her phone.  While most Millennials would be reading up on the news, chatting with friends, or just wasting time on reddit or Clash of Clans, Nexus communing with rather deeper mysteries.

At least, she was until she got to Hayfich's.  With a sigh, she blackened her screen and tore out her earbuds, her brown eyes adorned with vibrant blue mascara emerging from beneath the matching bangs and seeking out Oz.  When she spotted him, she found a place in the room where she was well within his line of sight, but waited until she noticed her to make the next move.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:48, Tue 18 Apr 2017.

"Please mind the gap," intoned the phantom woman above the throng of people.

Selene's smile beneath turned into a full laugh. "Oh! She actually says that!" she twanged, speaking to anyone who happened to listen. It was an easy thing to glide over the little space between the train and the platform. She took hold of one of the hanging straps, looping it around the belt of stars that itself looped her wrist. As the train rumbled forward Selene surveyed the collection of ads plastering the walls and the people with their faces pointed toward their phones. Only rarely did they look up, but each time Selene beamed at them beatifically.

When the train groaned and shrieked to a halt at Earl's Court Selene stepped off again. Gliding through the train station and street, her cheery mood undaunted by the dour English weather and people. Her wandering path took her down several allies and back streets before she finally found her way down the correct set of pavement to bring her to Hayfich's.

Selene was stopped again by the bell. She reached up, giving a tap that caused it to ring again and then once more. "That's a charmer!"

"That will be some of them now I expect", the newcomers could hear the proud, motherly tone from the entrance of Hayfich.
"My goodness! Look at your hair, what a brilliant colour! It sounds like we've got another just come in as well, we'll be back soon Stele", Oz's ponytail bobbed as she gently ushered Weaver-of-the-Nexus back out into the main hall and towards the kitchen.

Upon seeing Selene her smile widened, "He's a lovely little thing, isn't he? Better than any of the new alarm systems, I've always said. I've got some biscuits as well, and you're both so thin! You young people, all so underfed these days. Thank you so much for coming, tea? Coffee? Only I wasn't sure what you would like so I left the mugs empty. You did bring them didn't you?"

Though Oz forced neither of the women to come with her, the world was no longer one for casual touches, she moved to the kitchen with surprising speed for the heels she wore. Even in them she stood at a daunting five and a half feet at best.

As Clasm descended the stairs from her room, an empty mug in hand, she spotted Oz hustling toward the kitchen. Eyebrows perking up, she turned to see... nope. A glimpse at the dye job told her that if she took in the full picture, she'd get opinions, and then she'd say something to one of he fellow guests that might get Oz mad at her in a way that wasn't useful. Instead, Clasm turned her focus on Oz, and following the older woman into the kitchen. "The usual for me, please."

The usual, in this case, was whatever Oz happened to recommend at the time. Clasm had been in London for a bit, but not long enough to secure an informed opinion on the local good options. That being said, she was developing an enthusiasm for that one thing where she used a chocolate cookie as a straw.

Diana (pronounced Dee-na, but she hardly ever bothered correcting anyone anymore) came to a stop on the sidewalk across the street from Hayfich, taking a brief moment to study the building - and to prepare herself. You're ready for this, she thought to herself, casting a glance toward the ephemeral form sitting on her left shoulder. Mau nodded, sending her a brief sense of encouragement through their mental link. She nodded back, took a deep breath, and crossed the street to the entrance.

The doorbell pinged again as Bast strode through the door, her ankle-length skirt swirling around her as the outside air met the warmer air inside. A gold ankh pendant hung down on a thin chain in front of her black sweater which matched her dark hair, cut in a stylish bob. Around her neck was a thin black and gold choker, its center emblazoned with a curious ancient-looking cat-head-and-sun emblem.

"Good afternoon," she said politely to everyone already assembled, pulling her mug out from her black-leather purse. Despite her... "ethnic" appearance, her accent marked her as London born and raised.

Comfortable in his place on the sofa, Stele offered the mistress of Hayfich a little smile and a nod of understanding as she rose to deal with the newcomers.  Her seemingly boundless hospitality was something one either had to love or simply tolerate if they wished to spend any time within the sanctuary's walls, and thankfully he'd fallen into the first category.  Scooting back slightly to relax more deeply into the couch, the Moros brought his mug up and took a tentative sip from the nigh-scalding brew within.  'She's got good taste.'  He mused as he swallowed the delicate infusion and drew in a contemplative breath.

While he hadn't had much in the way of warning about what Oz had in mind when she'd summoned him, it certainly hadn’t included...well whoever these people were.  'That's a lot of blue and a lot of metal.'  Stele noted absently as he lowered his drink, cupping it between his hands to savor it's warmth as he cast a discerning eye over each of the guests in turn.  He was still new enough to these parts to be surprised now and then, but he'd begun to get a sort of feel for the styles of locals.  Despite what Rimmel might claim, the 'London Look' was definitely not natural for some of Hayfich's newcomers, and if he wasn't mistaken there were just as many foreigners here as natives.  Lifting one hand he offered a little wave  in response to the newest entrant, but otherwise kept his own council as he waited for their host to return.