(no subject)

[jcrichton.livejournal.com]

Looking worlds better, Crichton comes downstairs into the bar. He sees Meg across the room and heads in that direction.

Breakfast at Milliways

[go-between.livejournal.com]

Richard steps behind the Bar and ties on his apron. He doesn't announce anything, just makes himself available. He seems to be very busy polishing everything that holds still.

(no subject)

[aj_crawley]

[OOC: Out-Of-Milliways Entry]

(no subject)

[gil-whimple.livejournal.com]

Gil wanders out of the kitchen, yawning, with his tray of nibbles. He trots around the room setting out the bowls and baskets then approaches the bar nodding to Richard. He looks a little curiously at Angelo, David and Charlie but they seem so intent that he feels too embarrassed to speak to them. Instead he pats the Bar and picks up the chalk.

Dear Customers of Milliways

he writes

Tonight in addition to our usual menu we are pleased to offer you the following Scandinavian dishes~

Dyresteg - Wild Venison with Cheese Sauce

Risted Laks mit Kremsaus

Potetboller

We hope you enjoy them.

Gil

Then he trots down to the other end of the bar and gets himself a glass of milk, sipping quietly, oblivious to the little creamy moustache on his top lip - the only sort of moustache he's capable of growing.

(no subject)

[blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com]

Brennan comes into the bar and sits at the corner table, carving a piece of wood.

(no subject)

[not_that_spike]

Spike follows Beth through the door and into the bar; he's got his notebook and pen with him. He stops and orders a pair of martinis and while he's there reads the note Joe left. There's something familiar about the phrasing but he can't really put his finger on it, so he proceeds as planned and joins Beth at a table on the far side of the room.

He hands her the drink, sets down the notebook, puts a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the table. Finally, he sits. When he does, he catches her eye: it's been one of those keep-busy-at-all-costs days for him and this is his first chance to just sit and breathe.

So he breathes in the way she looks by the dim light of the fire and is satisfied.

"Hey."

(no subject)

[lithargean.livejournal.com]

Petrefax comes downstairs from his room and takes a seat by the bar, looking around with interest.

(no subject)

[doc-lecter.livejournal.com]

Enter Doctor Lecter. He approaches the counter without pause tonight, ordering a glass of wine. He looks around with a slight smile, his red eyes glittering in surpressed amusement.

(no subject)

[blue_eyed_lord]

The Rider walks into the bar, book in hand as usual, although by now he's become resigned to the fact that he probably won't get any reading done.

He stops at the bottom of the stairs and surveys the room, taking note of people he knows and people he doesn't know before going to sit at the bar.

(no subject)

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

Joe is sitting at the bar with paper and Bic pen. He loves Bic pens. The future has some great stuff in it. He looks to be trying to remember something, and is employing all his favorite memory tricks--the Bic is flipping between his fingers fast enough to be a blur, and his head is tilted back with his eyes shut. If he were leaning any farther back his hat would fall off.

Then the pen pops out of his hand and skitters across the bar as he snaps his fingers--once, twice, three times. This usually means he has the tail-end of something; and so he does. He grabs the pen before it can fall off the bar and starts to write.

( WANTED. )

He tacks it to the bulletin board and returns to his stool, trading his pen for a cold beer.

(no subject)

[prince-tepes.livejournal.com]

[ooc: pre-Milliways]

Vlad pauses and grips his walking stick more tightly. He is comfortable in darkness, but walking through a familiar door to an unfamiliar place is disconcerting, to stay the least.

But he has not lived so long by being rigid. He is nothing if not adaptable.

He observes.

The place is rich with the scent of life.

And something . . . more.

(no subject)

[bloodyrockgod]

Charlie had promised Richard the Ramones earlier, so he forgoes with piano--wishing he could rouse Angelo for some accompaniment--for his guitar.

( Three chords and lots of attitude. )

He finishes with a flourish and a Pete Townsend-like arm windmill.

All request hour is open.

(no subject)

[cleric-john.livejournal.com]

** Dean paused in the entry way looking around the room from under the brim of his fedora and mumbled under his breath something about weirdos before walking to the bar and sitting on a stool. Pulling off his hat and placing it on the stool next to him he ordered a bottle of wine and reached into his coat for a fresh pack of lucky strikes, putting his satchel next to his hat.  he pulled off his glasses and massaged his temples as he waited for the wine and pays when it comes **

(no subject)

[but-i-disappear.livejournal.com]

The door blows open and a hot humid wind flows into the bar. In staggers a young man, dressed in a ratty blue sweater with a large yellow star on the chest. He's carrying a pistol in one hand, and looks equally enraged and exhausted.

"Who gon' be next? Who wans shoot wi' me?"

(no subject)

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

The door opens, and a rather sullen Mark walks into tbe bar, blinking a bit. He swears under his breath, then picks up his camera, narrating as usual. "How did I get here? How the hell... Pan left -- close in on the seats of the bar. How did I get here? How the hell..." He stands near the door, trying to get a few good shots of the bar in general.

(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

*Tonks walks into the bar and, spotting Crowley, walks over to join him*

(no subject)

[mogget_cat]

*Yrael saunters in from the back corridor, looking quietly pleased. His white dress-shirt and slacks are impeccably neat tonight, almost to the point that one might overlook the fact that he is barefoot. He is always barefoot, though, so it is not anything new. His fedora is set at a jaunty angle on his head. It is the only thing he wears that isn't white.*

*He takes his violin and bow over to the bar and slides onto a barstool, sitting facing away from the bar. He sets the violin to his shoulder, ready to play, and stops. After a moment, he changes his hold on the instrument slightly and begins plucking the strings to make the melody. The tune is light, almost a dance but not quite, with the notes falling as lightly as the footfalls of a white cat along a white corridor where no light has been lit. The notes whisper in the background noise of the bar, only noticeable if one is actively seeking to hear them.*

(no subject)

[notsoyoung.livejournal.com]

*David walks downstairs slowly, his face drawn and pale, and sits heavily on a barstool*

(no subject)

[bob_the_skull]

There's a glittery shimmer, then Bob - resting comfortably in his skull - appears on the bar, just in front of a man who looks like a cowboy drinking a beer.

He reads the note posted on the board and ponders the question for a moment.

(no subject)

[prince-arithon.livejournal.com]

He descends from his room, and glances about to make certain that none of the people he is avoiding are there. Thence to the bar, dinner ordered, and he sits. Like the night before, shadows gather at the table he has chosen.

(no subject)

[sgt-rock.livejournal.com]

Trolls in lowland country have never been known for their foresight, and Detritus is no exception. When last he manoeuvred himself sideways out of Milliways' front door, though, he dropped about half a foot onto the cobbles of Short Street just in front of several Unseen University students out for a bit of a lark*. This, quite naturally, led to some questions; the questions led to some very excited theorising; and the theorising, ultimately, led to a number of peculiar devices being fastened to brightly coloured woven snaps so as to be hung about the silicon sergeant's neck. Detritus, for his part, saw no real point to carrying the things despite the students' bibbling; how could they tell where they'd been? They didn't even have imps in 'em. Still, they did have access to a reliable source of orpiment and realgar, and a troll will do a lot for the taste of home cooking**. On the off chance that he might stumble into Milliways again, he added the analytical pendants to his daily attire, such as it was.

Which doesn't mean all that much, really, except that when he opens the door to the closet where he suspects Igneous has been stashing illegally imported statues of Monolith again and finds himself in the bar, he makes a lot more clinky noises than he did the last two times. Mind you, they're drowned out by his exasperated sigh. "Dis are gettin' really really old," he mutters to no one in particular as he heads for the bar proper.

*More like a bit of a turkey, really, if the grease stains on their robes after were anything to go by. University students have never really been known for their ability to eat neatly, particularly not when they are doing so in a place they are not supposed to be.

**And a wizard, even a student wizard, will do a lot for a good excuse to make things bubble and whir and generally react in all kinds of ways. Troll cooking is not for the faint of heart or the intolerant of very high heat.

(no subject)

[what-stench.livejournal.com]

AMBROSIUS! Ambrosius, come back here you coward! AMBROSIUS!

*The light voice carries fairly well from the woods it comes out of. Yes, thats right, he's making his way out of the woods outside.*

Ambrosius! You must come back here! I will not have you behave like this! Ambrosius! Oh, i say... whats this?

*Finally stumbling out of the woods, the little figure peers at the lake with his one good eye, then inhales deeply.*

Hmmmmmm ahhhhhh. No, no no, this is most deffently not my home. Oh dear. Ambrosius! Where have you gone and hid yourself? This is no place for you to be lost.

*He stomps towards the bar, all three feet of him in his spiffy little outfit, staff stamping along beside him, tail swishing back and forth in agitation. He pushes open the rear door, and stands triumphant.*

Ambrosius! This is beyond unseemly of you! Oh.

*Looks around at all the people.*

This... this is new.

(no subject)

[pirate_jack]

*The front door opens, and in strolls Jack, eyes glittering with mischief. He looks around curiously.*

I've been away far too long. Tortuga's easier to get to, but it's not nearly as interesting.

*Grinning wickedly, Jack heads straight to the bar in search of rum.*

(no subject)

[edwardishungry.livejournal.com]

*Edward bounces down the stairs, with Paddy nipping at her heels. she goes over to the bar.*
Hello, Bar, Edward has money for you.
*Edward puts a large handful of woolongs on the bar, they disappear and Edward's tab does too.*
Thank you Bar!
*she pats the bar affectionately*

(no subject)

[terific-athlete.livejournal.com]

*Homestarrunner comes skipping into the bar with a huge but stupid smile on his face. Wait, that's actually rather normal for him. He skips up to the bar and stops to order.*

Hey stupid baw! Can I get some melonade?

*On the bar in front of Homestar appears a glass with a note in it. "Those who disrespect the bar get nothing." Homestar reads this note and continues.*

Oh, i'm sowwy! Nice baw, can I get some melonade? *The melonade appears and Homestar sits down on a barstool.*

(no subject)

[giant-chicken.livejournal.com]

*Boo enters through the front door to Milliways, hat low over his face. A desert town can be seen briefly behind him before the door swings shut, sand twirling in the wind. He strides confidently into the room, then glances around in confusion.*

B'gawk?

[OOC:For those unfamiliar with Boo's cannon, I shall clarify: As long as his disguise remains on, 99% of the population is unable to realize that he's a chicken. As in cannon, one individual may yell the "But he's a giant chicken!" line. I request that the one wishing thier character to hold this position make an OOC comment calling dibs first, to save confusion.]

(no subject)

[agent-dkscully.livejournal.com]

*Scully opens the the door and smirks when she realises that she is, once again, in Milliways. Nodding to a nondescript patron as she passes by him, Scully heads to a quiet table in the back. After she is situated, she untucks the old, battered copy of Moby Dick that she had under her arm and opens it up to a random page, eyes skimming over the lines.*

(no subject)

[dr-sexy.livejournal.com]

*Christian walks into the bar through the front door, this time with a little less of a limp. The bruising around his eye has subsided quite a bit since the last time he was here, but he still looks like a stroke victim since the botox has not completely worn off yet. He walks up to the bar and takes a seat on one of the free stools and orders himself a drink.*

(no subject)

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard wanders into the bar, looking tired.

He perks up and grin when he spots Crowley lounging at a table, and collects tequila and cigarettes before joining him and Tonks.*

(no subject)

[pythian-legume.livejournal.com]

Bean pads slowly down the hall leading from Val's room. He looks around at the bar...he'd seen some of the people last night, but he didn't know who any of them were, save for Val, Peter, and Ender (whom he had yet to meet). Upon entering the bar, Bean looks around for Val. Breakfast had been good, even if he'd left a little on his plate. .o0(Never eat more than your stomach tells you to...you'll feel sluggish if you do)0o.

(no subject)

[granny-esme.livejournal.com]

( Upstairs )

And then she makes her way downstairs, for tea at the very least, and possibly for Lots of Distractions for Before Meg Wakes Up.

(no subject)

[ghdorr-phd.livejournal.com]

*The man stumbles through the door almost as if pushed through. He is dressed all in a white old-fashioned suit, making the man look rather like Colonel Sanders. He looks around, puzzled, and rubs his throat, which can be seen to be rather red as if it had been recently constricted by some sort of rope or piece of fabric. He mutters to himself in an exaggerated Southern drawl.*

This is most peculiar.

*Still looking rather bewildered, he makes his way to the bar in search of some answers.*