milliways_bar | Mar. 22nd, 2006

Mar. 22nd, 2006

He entered. Once more, it was supposed to be a motel room. Such things happen, he'd concluded. Happen quite often, in fact. He shook his head just a bit an went to the bar for a lemonade. He could use a bit of refreshment right now. So anyone who was looking for, or found unusual, the black-haired AI could find him at the bar ((as long as they didn't tell him about Eddie)).

ironside-pixie.livejournal.com

BaD skIn disAase. PlEz GivE JenUrously

The sign is scrawled in an overly large hand, characteristic of one who does not write well. In the corner, next to it, a girl is seated. A swathe of blonde hair peeks out from her hooded jacket and if you are unlucky enough to catch sight of the face, you will see it is heavily blemished with large, flaky red spots. Using your glamour is the best way to earn tab money.

Evidently, Kaye has not checked her tab recently, it's been paid.

[OOC:EDIT: Mun off to bed very soon, slowtime if you tag.]

latino_menace

Ramon looks bored as he heads out of the office and into the bar proper. Mainly because the cells are boring places, even if only in there for a night.

Still, it's something of a relief to be out, even if he thinks he shouldn't have been in there in the first place. First order of business - drink. Second - dinner. Third...well, conversation wouldn't go amiss.

[OOC: Release handwaved with permission of Ashie, who wasn't sure she could be around to do it.]

herald-captain.livejournal.com

( Note for Caspian the Stablemaster )

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

Amanda is around bar today warming her feet by the fire and reading a book. Or more to the point she has fallen asleep by the fire while reading a book. The book has fallen and she has lost her page. Guess this is what happens when millijetlag catches up with you.

Come by and poke her, see how high she jumps.

inquisitivehero

Hank settles at the table near the Infirmary Door and watches the bar. His rather odd looking laptop, a tray of breakfast, and his very big mug of industrial strength coffee all sit on the table, for the moment, neglected. He is tired, and quiet, and glad to be sitting still for a few minutes.

cf1.livejournal.com

There was, perhaps, something odd about having to walk through your best friend's closet to get to a Doorway to an extra-dimensional Bar. But, considering the rest of her life, Caitlin wasn't sure it mattered. Nonetheless, she had managed to get in here.

She smiles as she ducks in and heads to the bar.

"Pancakes, please? And coffee and juice, and sausage, and syrup, and eggs, please?"

The large plate appears and she grins.

"Thanks, Bar!"

She pats the bar and settles in to eat.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

While Ace isn't generally the most social of creatures, she isn't much of a 'Fortress of Solitude' type either. Thus, after so many weeks away from crowded places, she's happy just to sit on the couch and soak up ambience. She also, evidently, thought it'd be a good time to work on string games. Call it Raven's bad influence. Currently she is staring at a mass of intertwined string between her fingers, and she's either contemplating the next step, or wondering how to get her fingers back.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

Normally Quinn wouldn't be so irresponsible as to leave the castle for an entire night without telling someone where he was going, when he would be back, and who was in charge until he turned up again. Last night was an exception. He wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't inhaled something chemical during the planting, or cracked his head on something. There was just no way that a place like Milliways could exist, let alone be lurking behind the door to his bunk space. Either he'd hallucinated the whole place and all its strangers, or. . . well, or he hadn't. If the first was true then there was no harm in sticking with it a little while longer. If the second were true-

Well, he was still trying to figure out what it would mean if the second were true, to the point where he scarcely noticed being given a room-key and shown the way to a place to sleep upstairs. Too tired to stay upright for long, he'd collapsed gratefully into the offered bed. Come morning, he'd awakened with half-remembered dreams in the back of his thoughts and with unfamiliar smells in his nostrils. It took him a while to get out of that bed and follow them out and down the stairs again. The Bar was still there. The people were still there. To his credit, he only stood at the foot of the stairs and goggled for a moment or two before making his way to a table and dropping into the first available chair.

One of the wait-rats- not that he actually knows what they are, no one's explained that to him- stops at his table and chirrups expectantly. "Um," he says. "Will this do for breakfast?" He hands over the silver coins he'd turned up yesterday during the planting. The rat looks at them, squeaks, and trots off with the old Roman silver; Quinn doesn't know it, but they'll cover his tab for some time yet to come. A bit later, the rat returns with a bowl of something hot, and a cup of-

Dear God. That's coffee. Actual coffee, not the stuff they brewed from acorns and dandelion leaves when they could find any trees still standing. You don't mistake a colour like that. More importantly, you don't mistake the smell. Quinn hasn't smelled real, honest coffee in . . . well, damn, what's it been? Ten years? Twelve? More? He doesn't remember. Britain's been alone so long. . .

That's how he's to be found this morning: seated at a table relatively near the stairs, his oatmeal-or-whatever cooling and unnoticed as he stares with a nearly religious awe at the cup of coffee clutched in both slightly trembling hands.

the_lioness

[OOM: Alanna tries to deal with being sick, and Adam being gone. Obviously, that goes well.]

dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce journeys to the Death Realms...

Where he has a brutal encounter...

Explores a forbidding cathedral...

And finds himself recruited in the recovery of a lost and dangerous book...

But as he tries to recover the long-lost manuscript, Wesley discovers that, even after death, Fate still delights in presenting him with hard choices.

first-horseman.livejournal.com

Good, evil, neutral; he's not interested in labels today. If anyone wants to argue the matter, fine. For now, Pestilence is interested in 1)the vodka shots he's drinking, and 2)the map he's looking at. He's dressed casual,jeans, white shirt, leather jacket, if one ignores reddened eyes and weariness in his posture. He hasn't eaten. Silent,watching everyone between making notes on the paper. Poke him if you want.

faithful-slayer.livejournal.com

Somebody seems to be taking a nap among a pile of books.

Probably this is unintentional.

Waking her up would be a good idea. Just do it from a distance. Slayer reflexes, you know.

http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

"stand by your bags on a step cold as dawn,
reared in the polluted air.
your taxi's coming with one beep of its horn,
to the curb like a hearse--so you get in."

Sitting on the floor tailor-style, with his back against a wall. Singing strong and golden-green, a sound to intoxicate, but Ghost has his head bent down to watch his spidery fingers on the neck and belly of the guitar. Strum, thrum, the vibrations hummed up his fingers and arms and into his bones.

"a world's outside the door.
birth, not death's the hard loss.
addicted to life like secondhand smoke."

He slowed, whispering and weaving through the last notes, "I want to be your addiction. used to ash and crushed under your heel."

lvpd_sidle

Seems to be the day for patrons to be sleeping in the bar.

And even in sleep, Sara seems to be worried about something.

Odd, that.

http://users.livejournal.com/_the_empty_one/

So, one day an emperor walks into the bar. He's young, he's smart, he's even fairly good-looking. Clearly he was in the middle of getting dressed (or undressed) as his ankle-length white robe is undone. Not to worry, he's wearing undyed pants on underneath.

So, this emperor, known as 'Zakath the Dread Emperor of Boundless Mallorea walks into the bar...

And staggers against the door as memories

GarionTorakdeadProhpecygreatergood?IsmenaMENA

come flooding back into his conscious mind. Shaking, he slides along the door to the floor. He'll get up in a minute, all poise and charm as normal.

Any minute now.

Really.

So, maybe 'Zakath might need a little bit of help. And a strong drink.

Current Mood: crushed

bindsthedragon.livejournal.com

In the stables, in an open stall, with the door open, a horse slowly rises. Only she isn't a horse, exactly. She is a Companion of Valdemar. Right now, she is mostly, however, tired and sick, and very hungry.

She staggers over to where food has been left, and starts to eat, her confused mind whirling with chaos as she glances around, trying to remember where she is.

symbiote-venom.livejournal.com

Eddie walks through the door wearing a sleeveless white shirt, sweat pants, and running shoes, with a towel draped over his shoulders. In short, work-out clothes. Not that it was much of a workout. Somehow, going from tossing tanks around to lifting weights just doesn't feel right. Not to mention he had to keep his head down in New York, since every cop knew who he was. But he'd gotten to the gym, had a decent (if boring) work-out, showered, and gotten back without incident.

His blond hair, short as ever, is still a bit wet as he takes a seat at the bar, orders a coffee, and sighs. He's still not sure about...well, anything. If he deserves to live, what he'll do with his life, or how long he has before the cancer gets to him.

De-powered villain in the bar, and he's seen better days. He could probably use some cheering up right now. A clown would be nice, but anybody would probably do.

Come by and poke him. Or throw a pie.

jedipilot.livejournal.com

Jaina's at a booth again with a deck of sabacc cards and a chocolate milkshake. The crutches aren't leaning against the table this time but are stashed underneath, almost completely out of view. Just be careful you don't trip over them.

She's playing solitare to pass the time. Well, that is, of course, until she can find someone to trick in to a game of sabacc.

Any takers?

blue_ajah

She had spent the morning working in her upstairs study at Milliways, but even quiet retreat can become wearing at times when one is alone with her thoughts for too long.

Therefore, a point finally comes at which Moiraine glides downstairs into the bar, carrying her leatherbound journal and what appears to be a small sheaf of papers for letters or lists. She settles at her usual table, accepting tea from a waitrat, and quietly returns to her work amid the background murmur of noise that fills the room.

conflictedhero.livejournal.com

In the woods, near the edge, a large form moves, not so silently. It's green skin ripples with muscles in the light and it ignores impediments in it's path like brambles, tangles, and smaller trees.

The Hulk moves, eyes bright, treading across the forestland. He is tired, and irritated.

Spring, and snow, and slush are bad! They lead to pain and pain is enemy to Hulk. So Hulk wanders.

eostre-of-dawn.livejournal.com

A goddess walks into a bar.

Maybe 'bounces' is a more appropriate term, though perhaps a bit less dignified. Not that she cares. It is her time of year. Her season in the sun, so to speak, and it shows in her mood.

Come talk to her, she'll buy you a drink.

((OOC: Off for dinner, back shortly.))

gorlim.livejournal.com

By more or less (un)popular demand, traitorboy is in the Bar today, sketching aimlessly in a book which is getting fuller and fuller with the passing hours. He's about half way through now with page after page after page of cats. And mushrooms. And cats WITH mushrooms. And then a section break following which appears page after page of mice. And then more mice. And yes, he's still drawing mice.

The tiger brain takes a while to wear off, apparently.

He also has a plate of calamari.

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

Archie's been out back for the better part of the morning, and into the afternoon, but he's coming back in now, and kicking the mud and slush off his boots before heading over to the fire place.

He's still got a bit of time before his shift starts, if anyone wants to chat.

((OOC: Off for dinner, back shortly. Slowtimes are love.))

gramarye1971

[OOM and outside Time: Settling accounts.

Now with fixed link. *concedes defeat to LJ*]

At some unspecified point, Guinevere's bar tab is paid in full, and a rather substantial sum of money is placed with the bar to cover future expenses on that same tab.

At the same, a note for Bran Davies is left with the bar.

cywyllog

[OOM: Cywyllog gets an unusual surprise.]

Cywyllog shuts the door firmly behind her and catches her breath, leaning against the wall. She had ran all the way to the courtyard door, half hoping she'd come here, and half hoping she wouldn't.

Finally, right arm held close to her chest, she heads to the bar and orders a cup of tea.

1morewfeeling.livejournal.com

[OOM: Waiting.]

You hear that sound?
When he speaks you’re on fire
It sounds like dancing, don't you think?
Let me stand next to your fire
And there's the source of it at a table.
Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla
He has a drink, of course. Why come to a bar if not for a drink.
C'mon baby, light my fire.

C'mon baby, light my fire.

Let me set the night on fire.
Milliways, say hello to Sweet.

namo

[OOM: A Deliberate Choice -- Asar-Suti and Gil help Námo with change.]

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

Molly goes to her room after work, and gets cleaned up before gathering her books and her cloak.

She's going to be going outside to show Magius some of her magic, so that he can figure out how to teach her to create portals to travel through. It's exciting for her, so her hair may be a bit wilder than normal, and her cheeks a bit flushed.

She goes down to the bar to wait for him, but is willing to stop and chat with anyone who'd like to catch her on her way.

mapmakerchur.livejournal.com

The door opens on an immense corridor with metal walls, floor, and ceiling, letting in the smell of various spaceship fuels and artificially recycled air. Oddly enough, it appears to be drizzling slightly.

A small, leonine woman limps in, her attention on her (bare, furry feet). As the door closes behind her, she looks around.

"Huh. First time it's ever snuck up on me," Chur says, and heads over to the bar, shaking moisture out of her mane.

After she's obtained a bottle of beer and a bowl of meat chips, she limps to a table and sits down, putting her feet up on another chair to rest her swollen ankles. She'd probably share the chips.

namo

Námo is seated at a booth.

He slowly eats the broth in front of him, taking Gil's word that solids would need to wait for tomorrow.

Between spoonfuls of the broth, he drinks warm milk. Lírë lays at her master's feet, a little confused, but she guards him closely, watching the people who pass.

hellobugbite

Despite the empty caf mug sitting on the table in front of him, Hobbie's quite a bit more than half asleep.

He has vague plans of getting up at some point and finding something to eat, but for the moment, he's perfectly content to stay right where he is, tucked away in a side booth.

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

Happy Hour Specials

Quagmyre
Quentin
Quaker's Cocktail

Anything else starting with Q.

(Beer of the Night: Qingdao)

So sue me, I'm random.

Eddie's behind the Bar, working occasionally on a jigsaw puzzle. Doesn't look too busy so far tonight. "Evening, folks. Welcome to Wednesday Night Happy Hour. I'll be your bartender tonight. What can I get you?"

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

There may be something distinctly disturbing about Atton, contender for Most Irresponsible Jedi of the Millenia award, sitting at a booth and polishing his lightsaber. For a start, the cloth (well, rag) he's using keeps getting very close to the switch, and he's also reading a datapad instead of paying attention to the cleanage of dangerous weapons.

And he's humming under his breath. Some drinking song he picked up on Nar Shaddaa that, if it had words, would probably be extremely vulgar.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells makes his way in from out back, a black-and-white ball under one arm, and kicks the mud and slush off his boots. He'd been practising with the football until he saw something huge and green in the distance. Not his style at all. If he can just pin down two obligations, he'll be able to go home soon, or at least try...

In the meantime? Dinner beckons. ANd he inevitably seems to end up with an empty seat at his table.

iambetadraconis

Extinguished by light I turn on the night.
Wear its darkness with an empty smile.

Somewhere in the darkened section of the bar, sits one very conflicted Death Eater. As has been happening on and off, his mood has turned to gloominess and so he's been driven by his demons to seek out the shadows; to slip about relatively unnoticed.

It'd work too, if he wouldn't stop playing with the little wizarding light that's flared up in front of him, doing its level best to light up the shadows about the man.

He sighs.

You are persistant; I'll grant you that...

Current Mood: somber

not-only-wisdom.livejournal.com

[OOM: Earlier in the day.]

The door opens, and a small figure strides through, hands smoothing her skirts restlessly.

"Light, this is getting to be a pattern."

She sighs deeply, smooths her skirts one more time, then squares her shoulders, forcing the frown from her face.

There will be time to rest later. In private.

Now she's merely scanning the bar, looking for a certain few faces.

There's only one she even half-expects to see. Strange that the thought is not entirely unwelcome.

Or perhaps not so strange at all.

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

Angela comes downstairs, dressed nicely, as usual for her these days. Her hair is brushed and smooth, and her makeup is tasteful.

She's been thinking a lot lately.

There's been a lot to think about.

And she's really longing for home.

But talking to another person would not go amiss.

souvlakifan.livejournal.com

Schanke has cut himself all the way back to water and a souvlaki plate to last him all day, but still his tab continues to creep up. He never expected he'd have to find gainful employment even after he was dead, but if the note on the bulletin board was serious, he could be cut off pretty soon if he doesn't.

At this rate, he may even have to interview with Madam Lilly.

master-cat.livejournal.com

Perrault enters through the front door, muttering under his breath and dripping somewhat.

" . . . told Pierre the new location he chose for the fountain was a poor choice, but nooo . . ."

He gives a last glare before shutting the door behind him, then heads for Bar. She provides him with a towel and cup of tea. A warm smile and small bag of gold are given to her in return. He doesn't put his trust in magical items easily, but she is quite nice. "And there's a little extra in there for yourself, good lady."

ncdcas-cable.livejournal.com

Nathan watches the bar from a booth, his eyes hooded. He wears jeans, a t-shirt, and a trenchcoat, silvery-grey and looking like something not quite fabric, but not quite metal.

This place is odd; familiar, and yet not. Everything feels weird right now. Of course, part of that is the sheer amount of hormones racing through his body right now. But part of it is the whole new life, again, thing, which is always weird.

If he could only remember everything... But he cant, so he sips his root beer and watches the bar, not!brooding.

mnt_raph

*Why yes that is a rumpled and smiling ex-turtle you sitting at the Bar before you.
Take a picture, chances are this won't last long.*

qsilver-lab-rat.livejournal.com

After the box...

reluctantcleric.livejournal.com

Partridge also had cut back on his orders. Back to meager food rations, and water.
And the dead ex-Cleric was also feeling a little desperate in terms of money and employment.
There were a few options available, but he's yet to run into any of those people to speak with about.

There was a sign by him, 'Instructor/Trainer/Guard/Officer for hire.'

tibetanmethod

Dale Cooper is in the bar, wearing black. All black.

He's sitting in a booth with a cup of coffee and three doughnuts. (Jelly.)

Midnight snack of champions.

Cooper doesn't feel much like a champion

(i'm sinking)

just at the

(i prayed you would come)

moment.

prototype-karr.livejournal.com

KARR drives in from the lake, parking himself near the door in his favorite spot. His scanner moves in rapid flicks as he eyes the rest of the bar, and it's a few moments before the light settles into a steadier pace. The AI grumbles to himself, but he continues to watch the other patrons. Just because he's in a worse mood than normal doesn't mean he's not willing to hang around inside. After all, he might find someone to taunt.

lastczarnian.livejournal.com

Lobo.

Bar. Booth. Beer.

Long live the minimalist post.

spark-girl.livejournal.com

Agatha is in the bar once more, fiddling with a new device. She hasn't heard from Mark about the camera yet, and thus figures it best to set up her sign and display of items once more. Her clanks are helping again. There might be more of them than before. But perhaps you simply miscounted.

She's hopeful that the camera will be well-received, so there isn't any special effort made to draw customers. She's just working on her new design.

And humming.

still-michael.livejournal.com

"I dunno, I'm just not really in the mood for--"

This? This was not the motel room's bathroom, as Michael had expected when he opened the door.

"Or you could hand me my shoes, and we could go to the bar for dinner," he called over his shoulder to Kitt. "Since it's in our bathroom."

petraarkanian.livejournal.com

Simple really. Petra is out by the lake, and running around it. The cool breeze of incoming night feels rather nice.

last_adam

Adam's been ready since early afternoon. Well, Adam's been ready all week, to be perfectly honest. But he waited (as patiently as he could) at the bar for George to show, and when he did, Adam just about launched out of his chair and back at the door. It's something that would be funny, any other time, but neither of them is laughing now, and just as quickly as the door opens, Adam and George are gone.

[OOM: Adam returns to Alanna's room in Tortall.]

give-us-candy.livejournal.com

There are two, count 'em, two very large, very dirty, very tattered pieces of parchment spread out on the floor. Laying on top of either parchment is either a Lock or a Barrel, depending on which one you happen to be peeking at. Shock is walking around appraising the drawings and telling Lock or Barrel to add something or erase something from each drawing, including a rather small room just above their boiler room for the Fourth Triplet. Feel very free to tell them the laws of nature/physics/science in general negate their carefully thought out plans if you're so inclined.

always-a-liar.livejournal.com

Out of Milliways:

Angela Edmunds receives another visitation from a pretty young man.
She steps even further down a dark path.

righthandwoman.livejournal.com

Zoe.

Couch.

Tea and bluberries.

Still pregnant.

...Yep.

female-were.livejournal.com

Raina is lounging on a couch by the fire. Her jean clad legs are crossed lazily at the ankle, and her arms are under her head. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is close to someone who would be sleeping. But, she isn't really sleeping. She's very aware of the sounds that travel around the bar, enhanced slightly because she's not using her sight.

Feel free to tell her she's on your couch, or just generally poke at her.

the_antiangst

Angel's over by the fireplace, with hot chocolate and his notebook. Not only has he finally figured out what to tell the Academy, he needs to edit it a bit, now. Due to... circumstances.
Doesn't make a distraction any less welcome, but he may not explain the source of the insanely good mood. (Oh, and mind the fuzzy gender line.)

guppy_sandhu

Curly-haired doc in the bar, doing something really constructive.

He's building a house of cards whilst having a pint. There may be a bottle under the table, but on the Guppy scale of drunkness he's just about reached the not-making-sense stage.

Doesn't mean he's not up for conversation.

simon_doctor

[WaythehellOOM: Simon and Kaylee share a quiet evening at the house with some very old music. Rated S for excessive schmoop. Millitimed to tonight.]

prydeful

So, in theory, the plan--

the plan went to hell a while ago, actually.

But the plan had been to get married tomorrow, and that is not happening. She's very certain of that.

When Kitty was fourteen, she made up her mind on something.

Sometimes there are people you hate. And you love. And you don't let them see you cry.

Not ever.

Because they don't deserve your tears.

So she doesn't look sad at all, just awfully thoughtful, as she studies the ceiling between sipping her coffee.