milliways_bar | Nov. 21st, 2005

Nov. 21st, 2005

The AI was in the bar again. Unexpected. He'd have to get Ray to open the door again because he knew better than to open the door while in Karr's CPU. Knew better than to even touch the door.

But while he could, he sat there, typing furiously at his laptop to write out the driver codes for all of his sensors, which he would've had the chance to implant computer to computer, but the problem was that, well... The second computer, Ecto's, wasn't there.

So he'd make files, and drink lemonade.

All the while wearing silver-striped hair and yellow eyes.

mogget_cat

*There is a not'cat in the bar. He is stretched out on the couch in front of the fire, reading a book on werewolves.*

*Interesting stuff, this.*

timsbooks.livejournal.com

Tim is sleeping in bar again. It's a bad habit of his. He just leans back in his chair, makes sure his sunglasses are covering his eyes, and bam, asleep.

But he left the sign up, so feel free to disturb him.

(The sign reads 'WELCOME TO MILLIWAYS. DO YOU HAVE QUESTIONS? I HAVE SOME ANSWERS.")

gorlim.livejournal.com

[OOM: The storm before the calm. Millitimed to last week, the night before Namo's departure for Aman with Asar-Suti. (We know, we know!!! WE ARE SLOW WRITERS!!!) Gorlim and Namo wax philosophical by the lake and then solve their resulting dilemma with the oldest all-purpose answer in the world: sex.

WARNINGS: Heavy butchering of Christian theological teachings, convoluted talk of destiny, and... oh yeah, sex.]

conflictedhero.livejournal.com

The Door swings open, and in comes a bedraggled man, looking tired, battered, and dirty. He is dressed in old and worn looking clothes, and when he looks up, his eyes are filled with a kind of tired despair.

When he sees where he is however, he freezes, some ten spaces in from the Door, and stares around. Then, with a look on his face like light breaking through a long darkness, he slowly sinks to his knees and cries. Silent tears track down a dusty and dirty face as Bruce Banner cries tears of relief, of hope, and freedom from fear.

It has been one year since he last saw Milliways for Bruce Banner, a year of pain and anguish and near constant running and looking over his shoulder, of betrayals and losses. Milliways is a welcome and hopeful sight for him.

withamagicword

[OOM: Preparing for the Ultimate Battle - warning for Spoilers for Days of Vengeance #1]

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

Sitting in a booth with coffee, fruit, and suprisingly enough a newspaper from Paris for a change of pace.

Come poke at will before she finds something that might catch her eye. What mun doesn't know yet but why tempt fate.

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

Arithon tacks a small notice to the board. It says;

Needed: One wedding planner. Wedding to be in approximately two weeks, small ceremony. Groom is not of Earth, bride is Catholic vampire. One of the ria'athan has been contacted to perform ceremony. Please contact Arithon s'Ffalenn or Bianca Solderini, House of Arch.
And a figure, a numerical figure, is under that. There are a lot of zeros. Arithon is a bachelor and B is five hundred years out of touch with wedding planning. They figure its worth it.

Then he heads out the door toward the stables. With Susan at peace gone, he needs to check on Liaffen.

b-hawkins.livejournal.com

After 'seeing' them off, Ben Hawkins had been in somewhat of a daze for awhile, returning faithfully to his new radio, cigarette perched between his lips zealously, and attempted to tune it once again.

A brittle and nasal voice quietly erupted from the machine. "Love me or leave me, let me be lonely/You won't believe me/And I love you only/I'd rather be lonely, then happy with somebody else." Ben leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes.

"You might find the nighttime/The right time for kisses/but nighttime is my time for just reminiscing"

He probably wouldn't resent company.

valehero.livejournal.com

Down the steps walks a blonde adept, sliding a hand along the wall as she does so. For once, her hair isn't THAT messy. She wears a white blouse and gi-style leggings. Stopping at the foot of the stairs and looks around the bar. ith a soft sigh, she walks sloly over to her usual booth and sits down.

Feel free to bug. She could use the company.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

A Time Lord and her pup in a bar. In front of the fire really - Magic is sprawled out on the rug, and Ace is lying nearby, using Magic's belly as a pillow. The arrangement seems to work for them. Magic is sleeping, the massive paws that she's slowly growing into twitching every once in a while. Ace is reading, though what it is, you'll have to ask her, it's not in English.

Lazy morning, here.

(ooc: Must run off to P-chem. Be back in an hourish. *loves on all, flees* RL is a busy place. But I'm back!)

lvpd_sidle

Sara is curled up on a couch near the fireplace, engrossed in a book.

gravity_shifter

Sikozu was up all night working on her little project and she thinks she's ready.

All she needs now is a medic.

gone_byebye

For once Ray is not wearing fuzzy green slippers when he trudges into the main Bar in the morning. This is because he trudges in via the front door. It would appear that someone got his butt back to his own bed last night.

Not that it appears to have done him much good; he's yawning and rubbing at his face despite it being noon. "Bar," he says, "whatever kind of lunch goes with yerba mate would be a good idea right now. And a book. I don't- I can't remember the name. You know the one.

The book that materializes alongside his plate and his gourd and silver drinking straw is The Art of Raising a Puppy by the Monks of New Skete.

"That's the one." Yawn yawn yawn. "Thank you, Bar, I appreciate it."

Once the mate's had time to kick in he'll be able to read it.

the_lioness

[OOM: Alanna and Adam go to see Thom. Um, reconciliation is a slow process?]

elhombrelobo.livejournal.com

Sim.

Human.

Darkened corner.

Beer, not Atlantean.

Care to chat?

Current Mood: relaxed

seker-pride.livejournal.com

Strahan is once again in the bar.

Sitting at his usual table, with his laptop and computer grimore nearby.

Transforming the various items on the table into mice. Or, in the case of the larger items, like the dinner plate, squirrels. All albino.

And right now the fork!mouse and the knife!mouse are racing around the perimeter of the table while the plate!squirrel gets better acquainted with the teacup!squirrel. Don't worry though; they're fully under his control and there's no chance of them getting loose.

But they are certain to draw the attentions of onlookers...

Of course, he wouldn't mind attention - or even the odd question of why he's turning silverware into rodents....

Current Mood: chipper
Current Music: Pink Floyd - "Cluster One"

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

Amanda flags down a wait-rat. "Would you please take this note to Nina'a room 869.

( Note to Magius )

It scurries off.

rebelheartalien.livejournal.com

Michael, in booth, with book.

Come say hi.

street-sparrow.livejournal.com

Gavroche is around, wandering between the bar and the stables.

Company's more than welcome.

jonathanparagon.livejournal.com

There's Jonathan, in a corner, studying books and maps while he eats his breakfast.

Yes, he did remember to eat today.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe's sitting in a booth, making sure his pistols are clean in preparation for Andrew's battle.

Friends always welcome.

slayer_fray

So, a pile of tupperware enters the bar. It wanders over towards the Bar and most of it depositis itself there, revealing in the centre of the pile a large orange sweater, which clashes somewhat with the blue and purple hair of its wearer.

Boxes of cookies disappear, each with a note from Mel to

( Ace, Raven, Mal, Alanna, Arithon, Faith, Dodger, Tim, Xander, Sara, Barry, The Largemans )

Pulling at the cuffs of the sweater, she grabs a cocoa and a plate of said cookies, retiring to a booth.

iwasalevel6.livejournal.com

Tony is at the bar reading his newspaper and drinking a cup of tea. He's being weather appropriate, for once!

[ ooc: need to lay down, will be back later. please do tag, though! ]

guppy_sandhu

Guppy doesn't look like he got much sleep last night. That's because he didn't, which in turn is because he kept hearing little noises and thinking Lee was trying to set the house on fire.
After the fourth time of going around the house checking, he told himself not to be so bloody paranoid, and reminded himself that Lee would be quite happy to come out in broad daylight and get him rather than bothering to get up at three in the morning.
'We've seen you talking to the police. We're watching you'
He is having a cup of tea at the bar, pretending to be cheerful. The bruises on his face are starting to lighten a little, but he still looks like the loser of a 'let's see whose nose we can push most inwards' competition.

[ooc: LJ isn't sending me any notifications, so sorry if response is a little slow.]

qsilver-lab-rat.livejournal.com

There's an invisible man in the bar. How can you tell?

Well, he's not invisible at the moment. At the moment, he's twitchy. His hand keeps straying to the back of his head and there seems to be a red edge around his eyes that speaks of something worse yet to come. You might remember him.

He won't remember you.

But, other than the twitchy and the headachey and the irritated with life, he's pretty friendly so feel free to stop over and have a Corona with him.

iamnotstorm.livejournal.com

There is a Sarah in the bar, over by the observation window, apparently weaving bits of the end of the universe onto bookmarks, she's dragged one of the comfortable chairs from the fireplace over, and has also absconded with one of the smaller tables, big enough for her cocoa and her loom and small pile of finished bookmarks.

She was comfortable, one leg tucked under herself, barefoot, the usual battered jeans and the new-usual fuzzy sweater, this one blue with a silver cartoon thundercloud and gold lightning bolt on it.

She wouldn't mind an interruption.

(eta: apparently LJ has decided to stop giving me notifications, so, yeah, poke me on AIM if I don't respond: JediGorse )

underwater-owl.livejournal.com

Random is sitting peacefully in the bar.

Due to several dramatic realizations approaching, he might not be this cheerful for a little while.

Go on, stop by and ask why he's smiling. You know you want to. And he certainly wants to talk to you.

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

A very weiry Amanda is sitting at a table near the infirmary. A cup of coffee in her hand and her head is bent down over a note pad. SHe might even be alseep. Poke her to fnd out.

She is mumbling something in Kyrnnish though there really is only one person in the bar that would understand and he is watching over his lady love.

nita_callahan

There's a bang of displaced air, and a wizard standing in the middle of the bar. Nita looks around, startled -- she hadn't actually intended to come here today -- and heads for the door, which normally opens to the Grand Central Worldgate for her.

It's locked.

She stares at it for a moment, tries the knob a few more times. Nothing. She frowns and heads for a booth, flagging down a waitrat on the way to order tea.

Yep. Bound again.

http://users.livejournal.com/_chappy_/

Ryan enters the tavern after being outside, the door languidly swinging shut in his wake. Behind him one can catch the setting sun painting the sky in an array of titian and coral hues, the light framing his glabrous head like it would the dome of the Hagia Sophia. His eyes, an aphotic malachite shade, survey the room before he acquires a seat at the nearest table.

...Forgive the mun, she's been reading fanfic all day and it's obviously warped her mind some.

Anywho, Ryan in a bar, at a table. With one photo album in hand. Come talk to him, especially if you know him!

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

Mark's in the bar, beer, new notebook and pen, scribbling a few notes on various things. He probably could use distraction. Paperwork with a production company really sucks.

bloodyrockgod

Well looky here.

It's a Charlie.

He's been keeping to himself a lot lately. This is alien to his nature, really; he's twitchy with solitude.

Hence, he's at the piano and playing Bach. He will, of course, take requests.

armoralchemy.livejournal.com

Al walks in from the back with a test tube full of lake water, and sits down at his mini-lab. He takes a sample of the water and looks at it under his microscope, making notes.

anythingbutblue

This could be one of those things she's always wanted. It could be her chance to get away from it all: life with the boys, bounty hunting, her debt.

But that doesn't stop Faye from sitting at the bar, scotch in front of her, and smoking as if her life depends on it.

It's that whole door thing. She hates situations she can't get out of.

gorlim.livejournal.com

...There came a day
when once more Gorlim crept that way,
down the deserted weedy lane
at dusk of autumn sad with rain
and cold wind whining. Lo! a light
at window fluttering in the night
amazed he saw; and drawing near,
between faint hope and sudden fear,
he looked within...

There is a figure by the wood, his outline broken by the silhouettes of the trees in the dim evening light. Any attention drawn to him might be captured by a steady tak! tak! tak! and the quick movement of fingers and flint.

And soon a candle is lit.

He cups his hand around the precious light as a gust of wind curls around his ankles and tugs at the ends of his cape. Raising his face from it, now lit with strange shadows from below, he looks out over the lake.

The wind moans over the water. The figure leans against a white birch as above his head, by luck or by fate or by the Knowing of magic, seven stars seem to circle his brow.

Low words he murmurs, a spell or a prayer. At last he lifts the candle above his head. It flickers, dancing as the autumn tries to capture it. Tries, and then succeeds. The luckless flame is extinguished. Darkness falls.
Mornië alantië.
It is beginning.

One cry he gave -- and then the light
blew out, and in the wind of night
wolves howled; and on his shoulder fell
suddenly the gripping hands of hell...

He nestles the candle with smoking wick among the birch's tangled roots. He pulls the hood of his cloak over his head. He looks up at the sky, the clouds rolling in, the scent of the wind...

...it smells like rain.

He glances behind at the light spilling out of the bar.

He turns and walks into the forest.

---

( ooc )

Current Mood: nervous

95-tan.livejournal.com

There is a small woman in the bar. She is wearing a pink kimono, has a long, thin bundle of blue cloth, and is currently engaged in enjoying a cup of sake after her usual meal of RAM. Because it's chilly out and sake is warm. Also because she likes it.

Do YOU like sake? Because she'd be happy to share, if you want some.

Current Mood: content

not-a-redshirt.livejournal.com

Castle ~~on a cloud~~ inna bar.

If he were any more oblivious to impending doom, he'd be Chase.

Come talk to him!

action-antihero.livejournal.com

Jack's iPod has started putting Christmas music in his playlist. Not some tenor singing "Silent Night" though.

More like the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. "Christmas Eve (Sarajevo 12/24)" to be more precice; the kind of Christmas music that would make a better score for certain action-adventure TV shows than a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie.

Needless to say he's nodding his head along with the music as he sits at the bar, reading.

[ooc: And despite my ISP's best efforts, I'm back.]

mapmakerchur.livejournal.com

The door opens onto darkness, lit only by flickering LEDs. After a few minutes, Chur - looking considerably greyer than she did the last time she was here - wobbles through and closes the door behind her, then continues wobbling over to the Bar. She places a handful of heavy-looking gold coins on Bar's surface, and then, after they've disappeared, asks, "Something hot and savory, please?"

A large mug of some sort of meat broth-based soup appears, and she cradles it in her hands for a long moment, inhaling the scent.

Current Mood: exhausted

gris_bug_man

Long time, no entrance post.

Grissom in the bar. Chuckling over Sara's latest email and vowing to maintain a straight face the next time he speaks to Tony.

Botherable.

sendpeanutbtr.livejournal.com

Claire has a six day vacation from work and serious ideas about how to pass that time. For the moment, though, she's sitting on her usual couch by the fire with her shoes off and her feet propped up on the coffee table. The fire makes her socks all warm and cozy.

Seth is in her lap and the two are engaged in a very competitive game, trying to see who can giggle the most. Seth's winning.

[ooc: mun may have to leave around 8:30pm CST for about an hour or so, but will be back.]

foxy-l33t.livejournal.com

Laini, in the bar. No silver jumpsuit, but an autumn colored sweater and a short pleated brown skirt. ... And thigh-high striped socks.

She is perched up on a stool at a high table, working on some delicate hardware work on what could be the distant relative of a circuit-board. 'Cept for the little bits of crystal and lots of copper and red-gold wiring. It does look pretty, though.

mistressmaryquitecontrary

The back door opens, and Mary Lennox comes in again, a book in her hand.

Astoundingly enough, it's not a gardening book, today; instead, it's a book of fairy stories, which she props open in front of her as she climbs up onto a seat at the table and begins to read, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip.

lt-naraht.livejournal.com

"Baaaar!"

The plaintive wail can probably be heard a good ways. Naraht is standing there, contemplating the dinner he just ordered.

"The bunnies were bad enough," Naraht says. "But I have to put my figurative foot down. I am not eating my supper in that form."

Bar has seen fit to serve Naraht the granite he ordered this way.

lyra_silver

On the other side of the door, it is rainy and dark, with a high howling wind. Lyra, bundled warmly in a wolfskin coat and a long wool skirt, hurries into the bar.

Once she shuts the door safely behind her, Lyra pushes down her hood, to reveal a red-gold pine marten perched on her shoulder.

watching_you

Here's Veronica in the bar, lounging in a booth. Her feet are up on the bench, crossed at the ankles, and her knees are supporting her laptop.

She's typing... something, and knowing Veronica it's a toss-up between case files and homework. At the same time, however, she does seem distracted - every time the door opens her eyes dart up, expectant.

Whoever it is, it doesn't look like they're going to show up.

inquisitivehero

So, there is a Hank McCoy, sitting at his usual table near the Infirmary.

He is drinking from his usual large mug of coffee, and tapping on his usual laptop's keyboard.

He is even dressed as usual, in normal clothes over his uniform.

This is a very usual post.

no-comb-shep.livejournal.com

Sheppard can be found sitting in a booth, nursing a beer and looking both bored and mildly cranky. At the moment, his main source of entertainment seems to be the 'Atlantis' patch on his jacket sleeve, which he's picking at. Company would be appreciated. It might stop him from picking the entire patch off, anyway.

gravity_shifter

Sikozu sat outside, oblivious to the cold. She never seemed to feel it much anyway. She turns the comm device over and over in her hand. She couldn't blame the doctor for not wanting to grant her request, but there was simply no one else she could ask. Ray would be too inquisitive, Aeryn suspicious of the comm's design since it looked decidedly Scarran, and the vampire, well, Sikozu just didn't trust him. She had no choice but to do it herself.

The cut was easy enough to make, and the pain wasn't even that bad. Certainly it had felt worse having her arm and leg torn off. Inserting the device was another issue, but eventually she forced it under her skin. She then just sat there, holding the wound together and allowing the rebonding process to get a good hold.

After several minutes, she wandered back into the bar, perhaps a little paler than usual and asked for a pen and paper to wite a

( note ) should anyone inquire about her absence.

In truth, she had been able to see the door for a few days. She just hadn't been ready to leave. However, after leaving her note with the bar, she walks to the door and out.

the_lioness

[OOC: Letter to King Jonathan of Tortall]

ratspeakergirl.livejournal.com

One Anaesthesia, now in a warm denim jacket, sitting on the floor, leaning up against the side of the couch.

There are a few rats in her lap -- smaller, younger ones -- and a couple of adult waitrats.

Catching up on the gossip, see.

[Mun must beg slowtime - there's tons of work that needs to be done, and she is being asked to help with it. Should be back in a few hours, and there is also tomorrow. It's much appreciated. (Also, yay meeting Ingress!)]

kayip.livejournal.com

A boy is sitting at a table near the fireplace, using the pen and paper Guppy gave him to draw something.

At the moment, the picture appears to be made up mostly of stick-figures.

Behrooz was never really that talented of an artist.

Feel free to ask what he's drawing.

doc-venkman.livejournal.com

Ghostbuster in the bar.

Bust Venkman Bust

He's got a notebook.

Write Venkman Write

Doing some people watching.

Watch Venkman Watch.

Having some coffee.

Drink Venkman Drink

Can you tell his mun is bored?

Snore Mun Snore

just-a-soldier.livejournal.com

Slightly worried, more than slightly truth be told, Ex-Peacekeeper in the bar. She appears to be taking her frustration out on a stress ball. Guppy provided it, but probably never expected it to be used. Aeryn didn't either, but if she doesn't squish something she's going to cry, so it's the stress ball or falling to pieces. Someone better tell her it's got gel inside, she's about to poke it with her knife.

jedipilot.livejournal.com

Two Joiner Jedi, sitting in a booth and playing a few rounds of sabacc to pass the time.

Someday, Zekk will learn not to lose to Jaina so easily.

mogget_cat

*Yrael is on the couch, dead to the world, sound asleep.*

*Like his mun ~~wishes to be~~ is.*

creator_raven

Raven is in the bar, curled in the corner of a booth.

There is a plate of cookies by his elbow, a pot of tea and several cups on the table, and a tangle of thread between his fingers.

He also has seventeen paperclips, two tufts of horsehair, and one bone pin. He fiddles with these, occasionally.

Sit and talk a bit, if you like. He's fond of company.

thirdfated.livejournal.com

There's a Three in the bar.

Yep, simple as that. Stretched out on a booth seat, wings folded, with his usual flavored vodka. He looks a trifle more friendly than he did before, but this probably isn't saying much.

north-witch.livejournal.com

The first thing patrons of the bar might notice, if they're close enough to the door, is the blast of icy wind that whistles through as it opens. Wherever or whenever is on the other side of that door, it's cold.

A moment or two later, a slender, fair-haired woman steps through, studying her surroundings with a curious expression.

The tattered clothing she wears--really no more than strips of black silk draped together into something resembling a dress--hardly seems sufficient for the cold she just came from, but she seems untroubled by it. There's a crown of small red flowers in her hair, some kind of branch in one hand, and a bow slung over her shoulder. A moment later, just before the door closes, a large gray goose flies through and settles on her other shoulder, looking about with a curiosity that matches the woman's.

[ooc: aaaand mun must beg slowtime due to tiredness and headache, but will be around to pick up threads tomorrow, or sometime later in the week]

gonna_live

The miso soup is hot, and good. With soba noodles and carrots and sesame seeds sprinkled on top.

The thing about miso is that it cures most ills. And helps most others.

Kaylee's at the bar, stirring her bowl of soup, chin in hand.

tallentless.livejournal.com

Billy's in the bar.

Got his guitar, fuckin' security blanket, and it's not leaned up against a booth like usual, not propped against a table but laying across his lap. He's not playing, though. Right now he's got nothing to sing about, nothing to say, so he's tightening strings and tuning up and controlling what he can.

He's pretty absorbed, there.

Current Mood: busy

gone_byebye

One can only read about puppies for so long with the threat of OMGDEMONARMY hanging over one's head. Ray has put the Monks of New Skete aside for the evening and is out back with the lightsabre and the training drone again.

The observant might or might not notice that he's got the tail end of a white strip of cloth some inches wide poking out of one pocket. They'd definitely note that he's getting zapped a lot, though. Dude's head-blind. What did you expect? At least his form is good.

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

[OOC:

OOM: Millitimed to Saturday, after Susannah's freak-out at the departure, Eddie and Susannah recover.]

guppy_sandhu

[ooc: Mun still not getting notifications. Please bear with]

Guppy is on the floor near the fireplace, watching the flames. There is a cup of tea, long gone cold, next to him.
He has brushed his hair over most of the bruises on his face, but they are still clearly visible. His chin rests on his knees, and the cat rests against him, sleeping peacefully in the warmth of the fire.

anthy-rosebride.livejournal.com

When Anthy stops at the bar, a package appears along with her tea.

She doesn't open the package until she's seated in a booth, and then she beams.

They're socks. Beautiful socks.

With toes.

oneman_onevote

[OOM: In Ankh-Morpork, Havelock Vetinari doesn't think about the reason he left in the first place, but does think about Milliways. And then he comes to a conclusion.]

transgenic-max.livejournal.com

Max is curled up in a booth, with a stack of books, a spiral notebook, and a cup of coffee. She's muttering something under her breath - the same thing over and over again, actually, if one happens to get close enough to hear it.

It sounds like gibberish.

She's drumming a pen on the notebook in time with her (rather irritated) muttering.

There is a small black-and-tan kitten stalking the pen. This may be making it hard for the X5 to concentrate.

Feel free to bother.

(OOC: LJ has decided not to send me notifications, so I shall likely be slower than usual in responding. If I'm taking too long, just ping me at ChangeableJenn on AIM.)

blond-bubbles.livejournal.com

Bubbles shifts uneasily on her red bar stool, tugging nervously at the hem of the outfit that Lady Bar had put her in earlier today.

She certainly isn't used to it. Nor is she used to the looks Bubbles is getting either.

With a sigh, she continues to sip at the straw in her soda, somewhat depressed.

Come by. Talk to her, hit on her. Bubbles would probably put up with anything for company.

vaapadmaster.livejournal.com

(NOT-OOM. Mace gives his immortal student a gift, after they talk about past and regrets and upcoming challenges. No romance or anything alike. *G*)

http://users.livejournal.com/_fisshes/

Hobbit-sized meal? Check.

Well, actually, it's more like the remnants of a hobbit-sized meal. Which is to say, a large stack of dishes and a moderately full hobbit sitting back and staring at people while drinking the last of his beer.

Ooh, at the table today, instead of under it. He's feeling confident. Must be the omnipotence.

lastczarnian.livejournal.com

Enters, one Scourge of the Universe. Carrying a backpack, and seeming to be looking for someone...

Maybe YOU!

oneman_onevote

Of course, some things have nothing to do with logic.

Even Havelock, while carefully assessing reasons and problems, knows that.

So this is why a dark-gloved hand quietly opens a battered half-rotten door that opens into Milliways bar in the early evening bar-time. He glances around, then pushes back his hood - the same no-colour of shadows as the rest of his clothing.

Well. Good evening, all.