(no subject)

[anotherlifebro.livejournal.com]

It's one of those posts.

There's a spoilerific and mildly tipsy Desmond in a booth, sketching something that might be a snowglobe, only that's silly, right?

Another booth has a Hawkeye, with a glass of scotch and a newspaper from home -- it's amazing what Bar'll give you.

At a table by the noticeboard is Wes, copying English words from the various signs and seeing how much he can translate without checking the primer. (Answer: not many. Rose is watching from the next table over, smirking slightly at each mistake. It's great being able to read anything. Yay TARDIS!)

Ben's at the Bar with a chocolate milkshake -- that's not changed after three years, apparently. He's stealing occasional curious glances at an uneasy man nearby, though: Fi's wandered in wearing his off-duty clothes and without his brothers, but he figured he'd have a glass of fruit juice anyway. (And why not, eh?)

Comments

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

"What the kriff are you doing?" Says an Atton from behind Wes, with a grin so broad if it got any broader his face would split open. "'Part from writing nonsense."

[fighter--pilot.livejournal.com]

"That," Shalla says, walking up behind Wes, "does not say 'Cookies for Shalla.'" She plops down in the seat next to him and tilts her head.

"What does that say?"

[http://users.livejournal.com/_estsanatlehi_/]

It wasn't long before someone's little old grandmother made her way over to Desmond, she had a green duck on her shoulder and was leaning heavily on a walking stick, but she was also carrying a plate of corncakes with honey in her other hand, and, really, moving surprisingly well for someone of her age, "You, boyling, need something to eat if you're going to continue drinking in that fashion."

She even sounded like someone's little old grandmother.

[fighting_mad]

Plourr (now with Eiattu-clothes and hair! well, okay, stubble) plunks down across from Wes. She peers dubiously at his scribbles. "The kriff're you doing?"