Chapter 18: Truffle Eggs, Tangential Thinking, and Targeted Generosity

"Right then," Jun-Jun announced, scanning the leather-bound menu with intense focus, as if deciphering ancient hieroglyphs. "Decisions, decisions. The Lobster Omelet sounds decadent... but the Foie Gras French Toast has potential... yet the Wagyu Beef Tapa speaks to my Filipino soul..." He looked up at the waiter, a young man named Paolo who was maintaining impressive composure. "Paolo, my good man, what if I just... tried all three?"

Migs sighed audibly from across the table. "Jun-Jun, it's brunch, not a buffet."

"Life's a buffet, Migs!" Jun-Jun countered cheerfully. "Okay, fine." He reconsidered. "I'll have the Truffle Eggs Benedict. But," he added, leaning in slightly, "tell Chef to use only the yolks from free-range ostrich eggs. Can he manage that?"

Paolo blinked, his professional smile flickering for a microsecond. "Ostrich egg yolks, sir? I... would have to check with Chef if we can procure those immediately..."

"No worries if not!" Jun-Jun waved him off. "Regular hen eggs are fine if the ostrich supply chain is backed up. Just make sure they're... happy hens. Very happy hens." He turned to Migs. "Your choice, pare?"

Migs deliberately pointed to the simplest item on the fancy menu. "I'll have the classic Filipino breakfast, please. The tocino, garlic rice, and fried egg." He looked pointedly at Jun-Jun. "Regular chicken egg. Preferably cooked all the way through."

"Excellent choices!" Jun-Jun declared, handing the menus back to Paolo. "Oh, and Paolo? Keep the champagne flowing. And maybe bring a selection of imported fruit juices? Something exotic. Surprise me!"

"Very good, sir." Paolo retreated, likely heading straight for the kitchen to relay the ostrich egg inquiry and the vague 'exotic juice' request, possibly questioning his career choices.

"Happy hens," Migs muttered, taking another sip of champagne. "Honestly, Jun-Jun."

"Quality ingredients matter!" Jun-Jun insisted. "Like yesterday. Aling Nena uses good quality components. That's key. Even if," he added thoughtfully, "one could potentially improve the supply chain. That ube... probably not organically farmed under optimal, music-enhanced growing conditions."

"You want to play Mozart to yams now?"

"Studies show classical music can improve plant growth!" Jun-Jun said earnestly. "Imagine the flavor! I should definitely buy that farm in Bohol. Maybe set up a research grant?" He pulled out his phone instinctively.

"No!" Migs said firmly. "No buying farms during brunch. Can we just talk? About yesterday? For instance, did Mang Cardo, your accidental passenger, seem okay when you left him? You didn't, like, accidentally give him enough money to trigger an AMLA investigation?"

Jun-Jun waved dismissively. "Mang Cardo was fine! Thrilled! Probably swapping his tricycle for a slightly used helicopter by now." He chuckled. "And don't worry about AMLA; Mang George handles the necessary financial layering protocols for... larger 'tips'."

Migs stared at him. Financial layering protocols for tips. Of course.

"And Captain Reyes?" Migs pressed on. "A fruit basket isn't going to make thirteen potential charges disappear, Jun-Jun."

"Probably not," Jun-Jun conceded. "But it's a gesture! Shows goodwill! Maybe the consultancy offer will sweeten the deal. If not, the lawyers handle it. That's what they're for! See? Delegation." He beamed, proud of his executive function.

Just then, their food arrived. Jun-Jun's Truffle Eggs Benedict looked immaculate (presumably made with regular, albeit likely organic, 'happy hen' eggs), drizzled generously with hollandaise and shaved black truffle. Migs' tocino breakfast was simpler but perfectly cooked, the garlic rice fragrant, the egg sunny-side up. Paolo also presented a tray with several small carafes of colourful juices – passionfruit, guava, lychee, and something unidentifiably purple.

"Looks fantastic!" Jun-Jun declared, digging in immediately. "Mmmph. Delicious!"

As they ate, enjoying the genuinely excellent food and the pleasant ambiance of their private (if conspicuous) patio, a figure hesitantly approached their table from the edge of the reserved area. He was a young Filipino man, clutching a worn portfolio, looking nervous but determined. Antoine, the manager, started forward to intercept him, but Jun-Jun waved Antoine off with a casual gesture.

"Excuse me, sirs," the young man began, addressing Jun-Jun directly. "Mr. Dela Cruz? I saw you on the news yesterday... the 'Pandesal Pimpernel'..."

Jun-Jun grinned. "Catchy title! Though I prefer 'Logistical Solutions Provider'. Can I help you?"

"Sir, my name is Rico," the young man said, swallowing nervously. "I'm an aspiring inventor. I saw... well, I saw you have a unique approach to problem-solving and... resources." He clutched his portfolio tighter. "I've developed a prototype for a self-folding, solar-powered tricycle canopy! It could revolutionize transport for thousands of drivers! But I need funding for materials, for testing..." He looked hopeful, bordering on desperate.

Migs tensed, expecting Jun-Jun to either dismiss the man or, worse, offer to buy the patent for billions on the spot without even looking at it.

Jun-Jun regarded Rico thoughtfully for a moment, fork halfway to his mouth. "Self-folding solar canopy for tricycles, eh?" He put his fork down. "Interesting. Addresses a real need – shade, renewable energy for charging phones perhaps?"

"Yes, sir! Exactly!" Rico's eyes lit up. "It uses lightweight composite materials..."

"Okay, Rico," Jun-Jun interrupted gently, pulling out his phone (this time, Migs didn't stop him). "Let's not drag this out over brunch. Here's what we'll do." He tapped quickly. "I'm transferring... let's say, five million pesos... to a dedicated seed fund for your project right now. What's your company name? Or just your name?"

Rico stammered, "I... I don't have a company yet, sir. Just me... Rico Santos." (No relation to Migs, thankfully).

"Okay, 'Rico Santos Innovation Fund' it is!" Jun-Jun announced as he completed the transfer with a few taps. "Done. Five million pesos seed money. Use it wisely. Develop the prototype. Get patents. Mang George," he called out, and the ever-present manager instantly appeared at his side. "Get Rico's contact details. Connect him with our IP lawyers and maybe the tech incubator I bought last month in Laguna. See if they can assist with development and manufacturing."

Rico looked utterly stunned, staring at his phone as a banking notification presumably pinged. "Five... million? Sir... I... thank you... thank you!" Tears welled up in his eyes.

"No problem, Rico!" Jun-Jun beamed. "Just promise me the first prototype has a cup holder. Very important." He picked up his fork again. "Now, run along. Invent something cool."

Rico, stammering his thanks profusely, practically floated away, clutching his portfolio and phone, leaving Antoine looking slightly bewildered and Migs shaking his head in grudging admiration.

"Well," Migs conceded, taking a bite of tocino. "That was... surprisingly productive. And you didn't even buy his soul."

"Just enabling innovation, Migs!" Jun-Jun said happily, finishing his eggs benedict. "Besides, solar-powered tricycle canopies sound genuinely useful." He looked towards the kitchen. "Now... I wonder if Antoine has an update on that glacier ice?"

The normal brunch continued, punctuated by moments of extreme abnormality. The main course was finished, the champagne flutes remained full, and the anticipation for the bespoke halo-halo began to build.