First Entrance

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

A tiny poof of ... smoke? mist? ... appears on the bartop. It resolves into a perfect three-inch-tall replica of one of the Milliways tables, with two chairs to scale.

In one of said chairs comes an even smaller poof of white cloud, dissipating to reveal a tiny white-robed figure with little feathery white wings, a halo, and a golden harp roughly the size of a Sacajawea dollar (circa early 21st century America).

In the other, almost simultaneously, comes a poof of flame, dissipating to reveal ... a tiny red-jumpsuited figure with little spiky red wings, horns, and a pitchfork that an ordinary human-sized patron might easily mistake for a salad fork if it weren't barbed.

Both of them are looking around in startlement. The red-clad one gives a short, dry laugh.

"What are the odds?"

Comments

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

Still looking around, he white-clad one huffs and crosses its arms. The harp goes ping.

"If I had wanted to come here, I would have said something," he addresses...nobody, really.

Both of them sound like they've taken in a lungful of helium.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

"What d'you guess happened to whatsisname?"

The red-clad one *poofs* away his pitchfork and leans cross-armed on the table.

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

The other considers this. He shrugs.

"I don't know. But I'm sure," he adds, loftily, "that his clear conscience guided his way to...wherever he ended up."

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

"Eh ... I give him two weeks, tops, before he's back playing for Team Evil."

He smirks, rather smugly.

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

Oats stares.

And blinks.

And ... stares.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

Oooo.

Somebody new to tempt, maybe?

The red-clad one eyes Oats speculatively.

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

Oh-ho, not so fast, there.

The white-clad one takes one look at his companion and *poofs* upward to stand on Oats' shoulder.

He shoots a triumphant look down at the table.

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

Oats starts, glancing to his shoulder in alarm.

All he can think is, But not even *one* of him could fit on the head of a pin!

"Um, er ... can I ... help you?"

[gone_byebye]

Ray makes his way over to the bar, humming to himself. He hasn't noticed either of the beings yet. He just wants a drink.

Just his luck that he happens to be standing at the open space nearest to the poofishness.

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

A very tiny, still sulky angel glances over at him.

And looks up.

And up.

His mouth falls open.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

A devil of approximately the same size and temperament follows the angel's gaze, across. And up. And up.

His mouth falls open too, and he points.

"Sam, is that --?"

[gone_byebye]

"If I could have a glass of the green stuff, please."

The glass poofs into existence, and Ray looks down- then blinks a few times at the sight of the newcomers. "Oh, hello," he says with a smile. "You look familiar. Are you friends of Lenny's?"

He pops open the box on his wrist, and a tiny, cynical demon (well, imp, really) pokes its head out for a look around.

[timsbooks.livejournal.com]

There is a masked man, sneaking towards the duo. Now, why would you wonder about whether that's actually a fly swatter behidn his back or not?

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

The white-clad one slants a very skeptical, admonishing look at him.

Amazing how somebody six inches tall can pull off that kind of minor intimidation.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

"Listen, kid," says a voice suddenly coming from the masked man's shoulder, "I'll give you three good reasons why you should just walk away."

[redsnout.livejournal.com]

Scribble has wandered away from Raptor Red and found herself atop a barstool, which happens to give her a perfect view of things as the two figures poof into existence. Needless to say, she's a very surprised Utahraptor chick.

"Yeep!" After a few moments of gape-jawed staring, Scribble's mind kicks back into gear, and she leans forward, aiming to sniff at the red one. She can't help but be attracted by the color.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

Eek! Sharp pointy teeth!

The red one leaps into the air in terror, and cowers behind the table.

[redsnout.livejournal.com]

It jumps!

In Scribble's little predatory mind, this makes the red thing even better-it's the right color, it shows up like food does, and it moves!

It's even better than the chicken she messily devoured played with before!

Yapping madly, she sits up straighter, watching the table intently.

[transgenic-max.livejournal.com]

Max stares at the two tiny...whatever they are. Then blinks at her coffee, wondering if it's been spiked. Then stares again.

"What the...?"

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

"Well hi there."

The red-clad one is suddenly on her shoulder, leaning with exaggerated casualness against her ear.

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

"Ahem."

And the white-clad one's on the opposite shoulder, smiling brightly.

"Hello."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

Ace looks from the tiny angel, to the tiny... bespandexed guy, to her beer.

She's fairly certain she's had it in her sight the entire time.

Did someone magically spike her drink?

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

*Poof*.

"Hello," says the white one from the vicinity of her right ear.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

*Poof*.

"Hi there," says the red one from the vicinity of her left ear.

[nita_callahan]

[OOC: BWAHAH.

BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

*FANGIRLS WHUT*]