milliways_bar | Aug. 13th, 2005

Aug. 13th, 2005

simply-sera.livejournal.com

Pre-Milliways

Sera stands right near the door, rummaging through her purse.

Then she slowly looks up and goes "uh..."

A bar in the middle of a walkway on Coruscant? She pinches herself....not a dream.

"Where the kriff am I," She whispers. (Yes, she works with children, can you tell?)

Uh, Landlord? Make that a raincheck for sleeping at home.

Welcome to Milliways.

witchy-rebel.livejournal.com

Morgne is in the bar. Morgne, not Morgan. There is a difference.

Morgne's saner. But, she's also a little pissed off if the way her muttering suggests.

river_meimei

There are a few wooden benches in the greenhouse, scattered here and there among the tidily graveled paths. River's lying on her back in one, one knee pulled up and the other dangling off the edge, head propped against the wrought-iron armrest with its rose-filigree.

Porridge Woman the frog sits on the ground next to her foot, catching the occasional fly. A rabbit sits on River's chest; she's gently stroking it.

The humid breezeless air smells of

(Anthy)

roses.

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

*Hestia flies through the portal and leaves an envelope with Bar.*

Eddie,

Landshark?

Interestedly,
Bernard

notsoyoung.livejournal.com

A copy of The New York Times enters.

Hidden behind the newspaper is a copy of The Daily Star.

Holding them both is a David, trying to pretend he's not reading a Tabloid. He is, after all, an Oxford educated man, and doesn't deign to stoop so low as to catch up on celebrity gossip.

Of course not.

a-fell.livejournal.com

*Aziraphael appears in the doorway looking, frankly, exhausted. He makes his way over to a booth, stretches out along a benchseat, and to all appearances falls asleep*

Current Mood: sleepy

gone_byebye

[OOM: In Ray's world, Ray, Naraht, and Agent K fare forth against HORRIBLE DOOM.

With drunken Hortas and neuralyzed cops, no less.]

gorlim.livejournal.com

Gorlim is in the bar.

Looking for... someone to talk to.

Preferably someone who doesn't think he's quite as immensely absurd as the lettuce-smelling fellow does.

Current Mood: depressed

robinton-harper.livejournal.com

Robinton is in the bar.

Playing, (shakily) the piano.

But 'lo! He is improving.

Come say hello or offer tips.

devils-dandy.livejournal.com

Pretty villainous dandy passing through the bar. He has just noticed the lake door and is planning to investigate.
Stop him on his way through or catch him outside.
He's not as opposed to meeting people as he tends to be. Perhaps because he's in a very pernicious mood today.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

[Upstairs...]

Garion trots down the stairs, somewhat out of sorts and obviously so. The Sword on his back, usually utterly unobtrusive, shines brightly at the pommel and refuses to remain hidden today. He rolls his eyes at it once before hitting the main floor of the bar and starting towards--

His eyes catch a certain figure near the door.

*Done. And right on time.*

His eyes widen and his heart starts to beat too fast, too hard, as he sees the great God which he met upon the plains of Cthol Mishrak.

The great God that had fallen to the very sword on his back.

He can't help but shake, can't help as his fingers curl and itch towards his shoulder, as he watches Torak, the Scarred One, the Dragon God of Angarak, make his way into this place that he has begun to think of as home. Before, he had met his match in a remote city, one which meant little to him. But this...this was an invasion, a perverse intrusion into a place he cared about.

Indy, Jason, Wolf, Arithon, Nathan, Charlie, Ray and a score of others.

Grandfather...and Ce'Nedra.

This was their home, his home, and now entered danger Himself. Madness and Death and Darkness, Himself. He to whom Grolims had sacrificed untold legions of human victims.

"...the time is coming soon where you will have to take up Irongrip's sword once again."

He's never been more prepared to do it.

"You will be alone."

And he's never been more scared he won't be able to.

simply-sera.livejournal.com

Sera walks down from upstairs, stifling a yawn.

She slept rather well last night, which is nice, but she woke up unsettled, like she'd been wishing this was a dream.

She sits down, and a cup of caff appears. Sera smiles. Maybe this place won't be so bad.

Come and chat if you like.

giftedthom.livejournal.com

*Thom climbs up onto a bar stool. Hello, world!

He looks a little testy today.*

[OOC: Pink Zogg terrorizes Thom. So does the Antichrist, but at length.]

fuchur-dragon.livejournal.com

Here are all four of them again.

Falkor the luckdragon is 'swimming in the air' over the lake, humming softly to himself in his bronze bell voice, drifting on an updraft or dipping with a little whoop at points where the bright, fresh morning sun hasn't yet warmed the air. If he sees somebody interesting, it is highly likely that he will come down and say hello.

Asar-Suti is working in the garden, quietly whistling some rather off-key Howard Shore medley; he watched 'Lord Of The Rings' again, last night, after talking to Sméagol. He is collecting slugs; there seems to be an awful lot of them. He doesn't quite know what to do with so much living, writhing slimy yuck, and decides to consult a book unless somebody else tells him what to do about the slugs.

Ginevra is a little bit away, with a dainty porcelain teapot and cup (with proper saucer), on a bench, the parasol that sticks fromt he middle of the table unfolded to shield her from the mild morning sun. She is reading, ignoring her former god who is working nearby, and quite willing to share her tea.

Finally, Khayman is looking out of a basement window again, greedily breathing in the smell of life all around, and trying to see how long he can stare into the morning until he feels dizzy and has to go lie down in some cool dark corner. He is ancient, and so he'll be a while yet.

[[OOC: They'll all be good and apporachable all day Saturday, from the moment of this posting to after midnight GMT/five-ish PST. Mun is hopping about in RL, due to a bicycle that needs to be repaired, and Svava the cat who's feeling schmoopy and likes attention, but replies will faithfully if intermittently happen.]]

the_antiangst

Angel wanders downstairs - a bit early for him, to be sure, but sometimes these things happen - and stops by Bar in pursuit of some breakfast. Said breakfast appears in the form of pancakes...
And is followed in pretty short order by a plastic pickle tub. There's a note attached, in what may as well be Bar's handwriting, that simply says happy birthday.
Angel blinks, and then starts laughing. "Bar, honey, you win. I'm not sure what you win, but you do."
That said, he takes the pickle tub and his breakfast to a table, and starts eating.

velocitygirl

Inyri's in the bar. Wearing another long sleeved shirt, the sleeves carefully tucked into her hands. She accidently smacks her wrist into the table at the booth she sits in and she winces.

Anyone walking by would see the deadness of her stare,and know why she winced. Or why she looked like that. Because she tried to hurt herself. It's a feeling passerby's get, when they see someone so broken.

But her closest friends don't even notice. And that's what makes her hurt herself more.

Maybe she just doesn't care. Who knows.

She lays her head down in her arms and just closes her eyes. Peace. Solace. Alone. She's not thinking about Wes. Not thinking about Hobbie, or Gavin, or Val, or Allie.

She's remembering a time when she used to be happy. Before the set of events that made the land start to slide.

iamnotstorm.livejournal.com

It was a nice day, and as such, Sarah was out by the lake. She wasn't on the lake just yet, though she was sure it wouldn't be long. Too nice a day not to go for a swim, shark or not.

She had a new swimsuit, not one that made her look like a bumblebee, but instead a two piece that showed off a good deal more skin. She was however still wearing her movie-star sunglasses and her wide-brimmed straw hat.

At the moment she was just sprawled on her back on a blanket watching and making cloud shapes. Somebody come tell her what shapes to make, she'd like the challenge

(mun's on lunchbreak at work, gots just about half an hour. Working late tonight, so missed tags will be picked up eventually.)

collects_ears

George, sitting at a table and drinking tea.

3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com

Goldilocks is sitting at a table with evidence of a recently completed lunch. Attired in a simple floral print sun dress, she leafs through a weighty hardback book, chuckling on occasion, and sipping iced tea at others.

forsaken-bard.livejournal.com

Out of Milliways:

After a bad night, Asmodean is confronted by Trillian and Max. The occasional breaks from taking his medication during the War were not without repercussions.

Current Music: Veteran of the Psychic Wars - Blue Oyster Cult

susan-death.livejournal.com

If you are paying attention, you might notice a young woman, dressed neatly in black, sitting at a table and drinking tea.

There is a stack of papers in front of her, though she is moving through them fairly rapidly, with intent.

Some of them are very . . . creative. There are pictures.

just-connor.livejournal.com

Connor's in the bar, reading a biology textbook. He doesn't look interested in it, and he's mostly reading it to avoid thinking about life the universe and everything.

Come distract him.

always-a-liar.livejournal.com

Out of Milliways:

Elan Morin reads Shelley's fortune in the ruins of a dead city.

armoralchemy.livejournal.com

Al is back in the bar.

He thinks he should be studying with Ed, but Al is not nearly as single-minded as his brother. Ed will study until he collapses, but Al must eat and sleep and talk to people occasionally.

And he still remembers what Tim said about dead people coming here.

Al orders a milkshake and sits at the bar, drinking and watching people.

forsaken-bard.livejournal.com

Asmodean is having an early dinner. It is a salad with grilled chicken and a very simple dressing (probably oil and vinegar). He examines his food quite carefully before eating. You would think he was afraid of being poisoned. You would also be right.

Come visit him. ~~He doesn't have much time left.~~

roswell_grey

Thor walks up to the bar and sits on a stool. He orders Asgard nutritional supplements. He likes the yellow ones.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

Garion wanders away from Indy, Max, and his wife and steps behind the bar. Because of all the mess, he hasn't had time to think up drink specials so he goes with the simplest thing he can.

All ales half price.
All venison dishes on special.
Then he sits behind the counter and waits in the hopes that people might come over and distract him. Ce'Nedra, for her part, follows him and sits herself on a stool behind him with a book. She's in her nightclothes, not that it seems to bother her very much, and every so often she reaches out and runs a hand down Garion's arm, as if to assure him that she's there...or perhaps to assure herself that he's still there.

[ooc: back from *grumbles something unintelligible, so ask me in IM*]

not-a-redshirt.livejournal.com

There is a very damp ex-federal agent hanging about the bar, having gone for a swim. Castle's sitting in his usual corner booth, clad in swim trunks and a slightly wet t-shirt, trying not to sop all over the floor and looking overall quite content.

Come chat with him. Especially if your name happens to start with 'A' and end with 'ndres.'

[OOC: Tagging will be sporadic after a bit, and slowtime probable. Mun doesn't know what her schedule for the evening is like.]

iwasalevel6.livejournal.com

Tony is in the bar. He looks unhappy--a statement that surprises absolutely no one, especially the people who know him. He's seated at a table with a glass of water and a small pizza and is reading over a newspaper. Yes, folks, Tony's livin' la vida loca.

jedipilot.livejournal.com

There are two Jedi in the bar; one dressed in his typical Jedi robes, while the other opted for something more Earth-like - a black tanktop and jeans she picked up while in New Jersey with Sam, to be exact.

Currently, they're sitting at a booth with glasses of Whyren's, playing a few rounds of sabacc to pass the time. There's an amused grin on Jaina's face. Apparently, even with the meld working in his advantage, she can still beat Zekk easily.

just-a-soldier.livejournal.com

Aeryn is in the bar. Unusually she's not in the corner booth. In fact, she is sitting on a stool in full view. She appears to be smiling and there is a sort of glow all around her. It may be a metaphorical glow, but it's there nonetheless. She is watching the patrons with a delighted laziness.

Go ahead and bother her.

[Edit:OOC: Will be around for ages and ages, until about 10:00pm GMT so feel free to annoy.]

torch-reporter.livejournal.com

Chloe's sitting at the bar, reading through today's issue of the Daily Planet, that had appeared when she ordered her coffee. Not that she's complaining; she likes a bar that knows her favorite paper without asking.

More often than not, she looks up from the article she's reading, scanning the room for something more out of the ordinary than the reportings of the current crime spree in inner city Metropolis.

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

[OOC: OOM:

Anthy in the Academy: Storytime

and Traitors]

no-more-chianti.livejournal.com

Clarice heads down the stairs, a book of Norse mythology tucked under one arm. She sets it on the Bar with a "thank you," and it vanishes. After a moment's internal debate, she orders a glass of iced tea and settles at a table by the window.

This is Social!Clarice.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace, in a bar.
One more day before the storm
Going over pages of notes and schematics one more time.
At the barricades of freedom
Sipping a chocolate milkshake.
When our ranks begin to form
...
Will you take your place with me?
Perhaps a trifle antsy.

roseofreason.livejournal.com

Miki is in the bar, dressed in full fencing gear-- again. Fortunately, he is not in mid-lunge this time.

"Oh, no," he says irritably, taking off his face mask. "This happens at the worst times."

not_that_spike

They're not heading off to battle and they're not leaving for anything bad. They're not expecting fights, or doom and gloom, or destruction or even death.

They only want to test the door to see if Spike can keep one more promise -- rashly made, but so are they all -- to the woman he loves.

Money cards have been retrieved from Bar, just in case, and they each have a small travel bag with all the necessary things: passports, smokes, ammo, clothes. Everything that matters.

Still, he always gets this little feeling of trepidation every time he gets near this door. Like one of these times he's going to open it and he'll see some slide leading straight down to Hell waiting for him, and he'll be sucked through and Beth will be left behind and there won't be shit he can do about it. This place has given him so much; he wonders when it will start taking it back.

He never used to be afraid of death. He never gave a shit about it. Figured if it was his time, it was his time.

He feels differently now.

But, as he always does, he blows a few casual smoke rings, takes Beth's hand in his, and reaches for the doorknob.

It turns.

kayip.livejournal.com

Behrooz is sitting at the piano again. The Bar had provided more sheet music with his dinner, and so after he was finished (or, more like, after eating a little and leaving his food mostly unfinished), he'd started to work on the new piece.

It's more complicated than the previous one. He has to it work through it slowly a few times. Every so often he writes a note in Turkish in the margin.

But, he wouldn't mind an interruption.

locked-holmes.livejournal.com

Holmes is looking far better than yesterday, settled at a table near the center of the room with a glass of brandy and--perhaps not entirely suprisingly--a chess board, all simplistic white and black, with a long and rectangular box to one side. In any case, his gaze seems clearer, sharp again, and his admittedly tenuous patience with the world has been largely restored by some thirteen hours of sleep.

He may well be waiting for someone specific, writing a brief letter on a sheet of paper in the interim with precise script.

[OOC: Locked largely to Raven for chess. Characters already well acquainted with Holmes may also tag, of course.]

muddy-mutt.livejournal.com

There is a little dog in the bar. He is wearing a very strange and clumsily sewn muzzle-like thing but it's more like a glove for his mouth. And in the gloved mouth, he's carrying a basket of herbs. It's Gaspode. He has spent a whole lot of time thinking how he could continue working when he is a dog again. And he has figured out how not to salivate on the herbs. Come and congratulate!

agentjeanqualls.livejournal.com

Beautiful blonde woman in a suit enters through the back door again, taking a seat at the bar and ordering some coffee. She pulls some official-looking papers out of her briefcase and begins looking them over. Nothing to see here. Move along.

not-british.livejournal.com

[OOM: In which Dr Robert Chase attempts to burn the midnight oil]

He tugged the door open, head down, eyes to the floor.

Something wasn't right. He pulled his head up, looking around.

He knew his boss liked to drink, but since when did he turn his office into a full service bar? When did he have time?

Chase blinked, trying to clear his mind.

He was hallucinating, that's all.

Riiiiight.

Come, you know you want to break in the newbie. At the very least, laugh at his perplexed expression. Mock his confusion, or ihs accent.

no-comb-shep.livejournal.com

Sheppard strolls into Milliways, not looking very irked to be there. After spending most of his day on a prison planet yesterday, the bar is far preferable. But things need to be done first. Heading over to the Bar, he soon finds himself with a pen and a piece of paper, and hastily scribbes down a note, then goes to the bulletin board and tacks it up. The note reads:

Has anybody heard of (or answer to the name of) Lt. Ben Gannon and Lt. Kara Wade? The new plane outside (big bronze talking jet named Eddie; can't miss him) is looking for them. If you know where they are, or are them, go find Eddie and tell him. He's anxious. (And demanding.)

With that done, he heads over to the bar to get a beer and watch for anyone he knows.

sendpeanutbtr.livejournal.com

Claire is in the bar waiting for Snow. In the meantime, though, she's enjoying some tea (because, still, no one makes tea quite like the bar).

She still looks a bit worn around the edges-- too little sleep (too many things to think about), not enough food (it just doesn't taste good these days)-- but she's smiling.

Because she doesn't need curtains to make her feel like a grown-up anymore.

henry_fitzroy

[OOM: Henry discusses the bar with Vicki Nelson.]

nita_callahan

Nita wanders downstairs and settles in at the bar to people-watch.

whitewitch-thea.livejournal.com

[OOM: After this]

Thea Harman opened the closet door and threw a red shirt in.

"Blaise, I'm not having your things all over the floor"

She picked up the shirt and attempted to place it on a shelf. Except that there wasn't a shelf. There wasn't even a closet. She blinked, it reminded her of one of their clubs, but she knew there wasn't one in Gran's closet. She turned to return, convinced this was a crazy dream, only to find the lack of a door.

"Oh Eileithyia..."

[OOC: Aeryn-mun here with her new pup. Feel free to annoy her, though she's very different from Aeryn. See the shiny home-made icons. *beams*]

Current Mood: confused

honest-johns.livejournal.com

Alain is in the stables, working. He's done his chores for the afternoon; the tack-mending isn't strictly necessary. But it's the day before a fight, so he has energy to burn -- and it's the day before ka-shume will truly come, so it's work or brood.

He'll go into the bar in a little while. For now, he's sitting on a fence, mending a stirrup leather.

balletrat

*Meg should have gone home, today.

She should have been checking, to see how much time she'd lost; apologizing for any missed performances, getting the notes from the other performers on who was doing well and who was slipping and who needed the steps gone over again. Should have been apologizing to her mother.

She hasn't.

In fact, she's been outside, just within the borders of the forest, for a long time.

Practicing the dance of the thicket of thorns, from her Opera, with blank-eyed grace.*

called_lioness

Lucy is entirely capable of being social.

She just happens to also be the sort of person who can be just as happy, generally speaking, by herself. (So long as there's tea, at least, but really, that's a given.)

So it's been about two weeks since she was last in the bar, but she's back. With tea.

She's also attempting to quilt, which she's fairly certain she was good at once upon a time.

She's not now.

She is, in fact, very bad at quilting now, which is a bit frustrating, as she distinctly remembers one of the fauns teaching her how to do so at least decently.

It's entirely possible some not-very-ladylike words are being muttered under her breath.

gone_byebye

Without any sort of fanfare or fuss or doorbell or what have you, the front door opens and admits a bone-weary parapsychologist. He heads straight for the Bar.

"Hey, Bar. I don't suppose you could tell me if the message got picked up?"

The bar says nothing.

"Or if it didn't?"

Still nothing.

"Okay,t hat's about what I figured. Can I have a beer or something?"

There is a beer.

"Thank you, Bar." He lays down several American coins, which promptly vanish. "I appreciate it."

And he heads off to find himself a quiet, out-of-the-way seat.

lt-naraht.livejournal.com

The Door opens and a somewhat bedraggled looking Horta creeps in.

Yes, folks. Naraht has a massive hangover because of his adventures in Ray's universe. He moves very very slowly toward the Bar.

Come ask him what happened. Who knows? He might even remember.

el-vago.livejournal.com

Andres is in the bar, in a booth with a cup of tea. He is sitting there pensively, with a notebook and pen, taking notes.

He will not likely get up to speak with anyone, but should someone wish to speak with him, he will put his work aside briefly.

timsbooks.livejournal.com

*Tim is seated by the door, in his usual place. He's still dressed in that snazzy working suit of his. He's there if anyone needs anything, be it spell translation, or explanation of how the gadgets he made for security actually work.*

rebelheartalien.livejournal.com

Michael comes downstairs again, looking tired, hungover but happy.

He's still blue. He's decided he'd rather stay that way indefinitely.

pink-sombrera.livejournal.com

Sheemie is in the bar, looking for his friends.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe is in the bar, no longer blue, with Danny on a leash and a bag full of puppy toys in his other hand.

scourgeofpiracy.livejournal.com

Norrington comes in through the front door, and relaxes visibly when he realizes where he is.

sai_delgado

Susan comes out of the staff hallway and heads straight for the couch by the fireplace-- with a moment's stop at the Bar for hot chocolate.

(a shadow on my heart)

She's quiet and thoughtful, both hands cradling the mug as though she's drawing comfort from its warmth. She watches the room with interest, looking at people as they pass.

poetperry.livejournal.com

OOM Through the Looking Glass

Neil stumbled a little as his barefeet struck the hard floor of the bar rather then the snow covered ground he'd expected to find on the otherside of the window.

He blinked...frozen as he looked around, wondering if somehow he'd fallen asleep and woken up in his own version of Midsummer Night's.

The youngster wrapped his arms around his bare chest and moved out of the entrance of the doorway, dark eyes wide and incredibly startled as he backed into a booth, sitting down without thinking about it.

Did I... pull the trigger...or didn't I?

If ever there was someone in the need of some coffee, at that moment it was Neil Perry.

key-youth-bert.livejournal.com

One day left.

The fidgeting hasn't gone away. If anything, it's gotten worse

Coffee is not likely to help this problem, but that's not stopping Cuthbert from consuming it in copious amounts.

Part of him would rather not be in the bar tonight. But this might be the last night he gets to spend with any of his friends, ka-tet or otherwise. So here he is.

ucav-tinman.livejournal.com

Bring back those good old days
Nothin' feels right, nothin' ever goes my way
I threw my future away
Now I walk alone, out here in the cold
Wandering astray
Where's my future?
Gonna need a home
You'd expect the same, now
wouldn't you?
Wouldn't you?

The music played over his loudspeakers as it had time and time before. The plane had reached a few conclusions at last. The humming was softer. The conclusions weren't very pleasant, but some were a bit merciful.

action-antihero.livejournal.com

Jack's in the bar after spending most of the day by the lake. He's keeping an eye out for a couple people, but as none of them appear to be in the bar at the moment, he's content to sit in a booth with a bowl of peanuts, reading. After putting it down for a few days, he's back to The Bourne Identity. Go ahead and pester him.

[ooc: OMG I swear to God I'm going to kill my computer. Will be tagging for a little while yet, but won't be running AIM as my laptop is a useless piece of crap, and don't be surprised if I disappear.]

lastgunslinger

[OOC: Immediately previous.]

It's not often that Roland looks at the St. Christopher's medal that belonged (belongs, some might say) to Joe Manco from this angle.

The chain is stretched out in front of him on the table, looking like the shaft of a spear. The medal itself is the spear's arrowhead, pointing directly at his right hand.

In front of him is a cup of coffee. No alcohol tonight. Tonight he abstains.

At his left hand is the Dream-lord's Christmas gift -- the small crystal ball that shows memories.

The feeling of ka-shume hasn't lifted. Khef has been shared among the tet. Tomorrow they go to war. So Roland Deschain sits, and drinks his coffee, and maybe every now and again his eyes go up to the photograph of him and Tonks above the bar and he smirks, and he remembers.

After all, as the poet has it --

One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is in a booth, his head resting on his arms on the table. The kitten is curled up next to his head, sleeping with its paws wrapped around one of the dark curls. Guppy also appears to be asleep.
Judging by the number of empty glasses on the table, he may also be a little worse for wear.

awesome_lilly

Lilly's recovered from suite party, and eventually the suite will too. Right now, though, she's actually not thinking about parties. She's thinking about the fact that a good number of her friends are going off tomorrow to do very dangerous things, and alternating between staring at her coffee and looking around for them, and, well...

...Lilly Kane might actually be worrying.

3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com

She announces her return by slamming the lake door shut. Sandals slapping on wood, the woman heads purposefully for the bar and orders a Budweiser, chugging deeply from the bottle when it arrives. She may seem intense, but there's a satisfied smile curling her lips, and bright invigoration apparent in her eyes.

It is a curious sight, perhaps, to see a pretty blonde in a sun dress stomp across the room with a hunting rifle slung over her shoulder. But then again, this is Milliways. And it's only Goldilocks. She's been indulging in some anger management, click click boom style.

hope-halo.livejournal.com

The archangel of hope is in the bar, with a roll of duct tape, a pile of popsicle sticks, and some scissors. Remiel's blue yo-yo is also attempting to eat said duct tape.

He appears to be making some sort of strange structure with them, but distractions make him happy.

river_meimei

The door opens, and River slips in.

She looks... subdued. Not actively upset, but quiet. She watches the ground in front of her, and her bare feet step lightly, feeling the texture of the floorboards.

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

Eddie is in the bar with his wife, eating dinner. They aren't inclined to be apart tonight, say true.

Eddie's dinner involves tater tots, while Susannah's is quite a bit healthier, but he's drinking bottled water while she has white wine, so he feels superior on that front.

Nobody tell him about the health benefits of a moderate consumption of wine.

simply-sera.livejournal.com

Sera's inna bar. Again.
Who knows where she went during the morning, this mun had an angsty pilot on her hands and was flailing. But now, she's in the middle of thunderstorms and wants to play.
She has a pad of paper and a pencil, with a glass of Whyren's in front of her. She has a few notes on the paper, but mostly a lot of doodles. Of children.

She misses her job. Come and talk.

faithful-slayer.livejournal.com

Faith's in the bar, with a rather large steak, fries, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a rather serious expression.

Come chat. Or ask her about the whiskey. Or both.

mctrillian.livejournal.com

... and the door opens, and in come Trillian (Astra) Natael and Max Evans.

In full court regalia - Max in his blue robes with a circlet, and Trillian with her brown velvet (see icon) patterned gown.

They both look rather more formal than is appropriate for a normal bar -- but this is Milliways.

The fact that they just came in seems to confuse them both. Well, sort of.

"Did you know it was going to do that?" Trillian asks him.

Max shakes his head. "Nooo idea."

And they get a table. Come join in.

capt_angie

*Theres a pop and Angelina apperates into the bar. She glances around the room and, not seeing anyone she knows, goes to the bar and orders a butterbeer. Come say hi, she could use some company.*

empath-wiggin.livejournal.com

She's fought in a civil war, she's written a constitution, she's controlled politics on another planet, she has aquired a purple streak in her hair, where a Padawan's braid would be, in addition to losing a baby and finding a score of new friends. A lot of things have happened since Valentine last leaned against Bar with a tray in her arms, but she is there now, smiling, as if things are once again right with the world.

Valentine Skywalker has returned to duty. Anyone need a waitress?

doc-venkman.livejournal.com

Venkman's in the bar, reading again. And yep, it looks like it's that Bill Murray biography again.

Feel free to stare or comment.

iamnotstorm.livejournal.com

Sarah was at the bar. She smelled faintly of char and singed ozone, faintly of sweat and someone else's fear. She also looked tired, though the kind of exhaustion that also comes with enough adrenaline to keep a person going for a few more hours at the least.

She was sipping at an iced green tea, a plate of nachos mostly ignored at her side, just staring blankly at the far wall. Honestly it was a nice change to what had been going on.

Company probably wouldn't be snarked at or cried on. Or turned away either.

not-bambi.livejournal.com

JD struts in and takes up a post by the bar. He's grinning, and from the three beers that just appeared, he looks like he's out to get blitzed.

flybywash

[OOM: Wash and Zoe comfort each other the night before the battle.]

badinlatin

OOM: Mal and Zoe have a conversation, with Mal making arrangements for the ship.

Current Mood: ded

gorlim.livejournal.com

Gorlim is in the bar, still sitting in the same booth Andres had left last night.

No, he hasn't moved.

He has a glass of brands but doesn't seem too interested in it. It's been sitting there for quite some time.

[ooc: locked to Random, say sorry!]

Current Mood: blah

simon_doctor

The front door slides open, and Simon and Kaylee step in, hand in hand.

There's a brief detour to the bar, and they settle at a small table with dinner and drinks.

If tomorrow is very much on their minds, at least it's possible that so is last night.

prydeful

Tomorrow's the Big Day.

Capitals letters are required, even in thinking.

S'one of those things. Or Things, maybe.

Kitty's in bar with the Junior Extremely Allegorical Messianic Kitten on her lap, stroking the creature's fur as she reads. The Story of a White Blackbird, specifically.

...What? Brooding won't make tomorrow come any faster or slower, and won't change what happens.

(She's also sitting upside down on the couch again, hair hanging off and brushing the floor and legs propped on the back, but that's normal, really, for her.)