milliways_bar | Mar. 25th, 2006

Mar. 25th, 2006

Lucy is doing something she never thought she'd do, which is making lesson plans.

The problem is that she's not at all certain what stories are best to start with, but she does have a few options to start with, at least.

You have to start somewhere.

latino_menace

Ramon heads into the bar and asks for a pen and paper. He quickly scribbles a note and asks Bar to give it to Nita next time she's in.

( Note for Nita Callahan )

That done, he also says to Bar,

'Could you transfer Martin of Amber's tab to mine? I'll pick up anything he orders.'

It's all he came in for tonight, so he heads back out of the door for home.

underwater-owl.livejournal.com

Random is in the bar, reading a book about Minimalism.

Yes.

vanishedfather.livejournal.com

(OOM: Pre-Milliways - murder in no man's land)

It's the sudden lack of charnel-house stench that first alerts Ames White to the fact that his current location is not exactly what he'd expected. Simply stepping out of the alley would not be able to erase that. So he stops dead just inside the door, eyes narrowing sharply as he surveys his surroundings.

It isn't that moving from a murder scene to a bar is entirely unexpected, more that he hadn't walked inside at all, and even if he had, there were no places of business open so close to Terminal City. Not with the siege on, anyhow.

Which means he shouldn't be here. Which means something very strange is going on. Somehow, he's certain it connects to 452. In the past nine months, everything important had.

Still, that doesn't change the first step: finding out where the hell he is.

renevatio.livejournal.com

These entrances always start off so innocently, don't they. Man walks into a bar, suspecting nothing.

Until, as he crosses the threshold, something stirs in him. Swells might be more precise. It builds and builds in him, until he can't hold it in anymore and suddenly--

"The hills are alive with the sound of music!"

And then there is the awkward silence, because the rest of the song just isn't there. Lincoln glances around nervously for a moment. "Sorry," he mutters, to cover his tail.

steadfastknight

It wasn't that he didn't trust his readings. But things were... odd, circumstances included, and that was why he was relieved to see the bar instead of the studio.

"Michael," he called, "the bar's over here." And there he stood, holding the door, looking very little like his normal self. Thank heavens this happened before his audition. Even if he did have a guitar case to deal with, some things were just more important than how he happened to be encumbered. They needed to find Ray.

aj_crawley

Crowley looks quite cheerful, really, as the wind scuds him in the door and then shuts it behind him. More southerly climes are finally beginning to heat up quite nicely, and March it may be, but even London's starting to catch onto the fact that it can't hold onto winter forever; it was even sunny, for a while there, if not exactly warm.

Just between you and me, though, his mood might have more to do with a piece of paper, idly played with by spidery fingers, than the weather.

He's humming under his breath, something that, beneath the tunelessness, sounds a little like the 1812 Overture.

howling_laugh

Coyote is sitting in front of the fire, reading.

She is cheerful. She is relaxed.

She has no idea.

imperfecthero01.livejournal.com

Heero Yuy, in the bar. At a booth.

He doesn't look like he quite wants to be here, today. In fact, he looks like something has possibly gotten him maybe just a little annoyed.

Or maybe more than a little annoyed. He's about five seconds away from getting up and stalking outside to pace.

Someone feel like trying to placade him?

conflictedhero.livejournal.com

Bruce sits quietly, watching the bar. He is disheveled, blinking at the place, and wet. Fresh from a shower and freshly back to humanity, he shivers as he drinks a very large mug of ale. Any other time he would be reading, trying to fill his mind with numbers or seeking a cure. But right now? Right now he is merely being, being human, being there, being... Bruce.

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

Some time after speaking to Thea, although that may have been quite a while ago by now, Jack has slipped back into the bar.

The morning is bright, and his smile his happy, if drowsy. He seems to have acquired a graceful sort of resignation.

All the same, melancholy or not, it is a lovely day and he should be happy to see someone he knows, or chatter at someone he doesn't.

forest_king

[OOM: Millitimed to last Sunday. Susan Pevensie visits the Enchanted Forest. With castle touring, a bit of magic, a few realizations about what can and can't be, and a very cute kitten.]

trurabblerouser.livejournal.com

The door opens... and a man tumbles in. He's wet, soaked to the bone, and the front of his shirt is dyed a pale red.

Blood washed out somewhat by the stream.

There's no movement for a moment, nothing at all, before the eyes blink and a trembling hand moves to the shirt front to feel for a now-absent hole in his flesh.

"Bloody hell..."

And his finger's through the hole the shot made, wiggling around as he stares at it.

not-broomboy.livejournal.com

He's at the bar, folks.

~~[ooc: back soon. out of battery]~~

witchy-rebel.livejournal.com

From the outside garden walks a Morgan, very pregnant and with a distracted expression on her face. Her hair is windswept, and there is dirt on her slender fingers, but the girl doesn't really seem to notice. Instead, she just moves to a table, any table, sits and studies the Oberservation window.

It's calming then her thoughts, really, which are sending constant, broken messages of running out of time, run, run, running out of time...

princeinexile

Survival on the outside for a prince who has been most lucky to have people do what he needs-- means that occasionally he comes in to spend his sparse coin on food. Terribly simple food; plain rice, nothing else, cup of miso broth and nothing more.

Today is one of those days. Trapping is poor, scavenging is the same and he has no idea where the young buck that Wells killed ended up. (Well, a good chunk of it is in Mt. Etna, but that was sort of a thank-you to Hephaestus, for allowing him use of his home! So he eats like a monk -- spartan, tiny bits, curled up in a corner book and looking unhappy.

His hair is growing in too. He looks fuzzy. Course it's hard to tell under that straw hat, unless you get a closer look.

soweroflife.livejournal.com

Kokopelli is outside. It's spring, back home, and he's restless as he always is in spring, unable to remain still. He wanders the grounds, smiling as he touches this tree, bends to examine that fern, every now and then finding a plant that needs a little help and retrieving a handful of something from his Bag, whispering softly as he tends to them.

For a moment, he straightens up, frowning a little and sniffing the air; he thinks for a moment that he smells smoke, and then dismisses it as his imagination, continuing on.

For a moment, he can dismiss it as imagination. And then, no longer.

Kokopelli doesn't scream, as the flames in Arizona burn brighter. The Bag drops from suddenly nerveless fingers, spilling dark loam and seeds, and he looks down at his hands, wordless, before dropping to his knees and collecting the spilled earth, retrieving a shirt from the Bag and shrugging it on before going inside.

This time, he finds a booth and curls up against the wall, braced against the table, hugging his Bag close to his chest.

sir-apropos.livejournal.com

Hmm.... what to try today?

I don't think I have a grand plot going at the moment the likes of which will change the world, or several worlds, or more than a few worlds, or even just a small suburb in New Jersey...

I'm not about to hand out baked goods, one, because it requires too much effort and two, because I don't particularly like enough people here enough to want to hand them free food.

And I don't really want to threaten the bar with destruction, madness, arson, the plague, Susan Powter infomercials, or any other evils which one might turn upon one's fellow beings. Too much work, and I can't see any payoff for any of it.

Hmmm...

Lunch.

I think I'll just attempt lunch, quietly, in a nice, safe, corner of the bar. Roast beef, perhaps something starchy on the side. Not really in the mood for vegetables, but I suppose I can slip in some carrots or corn or something. And of course, a dessert.

Talk to me if you wish. I'll... attempt not to verbally eviscerate you, but I make no guarantees, especially as half the people here seem to come pre-sliced like the intellectual equivolent of a cured ham. I also make no guarantees that I won't compare your intellect to a cured ham.

One day I'll have to come up with a sign or something.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe is sitting somewhere near the door, wearing his security badge and drinking a cup of coffee.

Company is welcome.

not-ho-chunk.livejournal.com

Wisakedjak is in the bar, but not sitting placidly with a drink as he usually is.

He's in bird form, fluttering, agitated, and sometimes perched on the mantel, feathers ruffled.

This is a worried Trickster. And also angry.

alwaysroomforhope

There's a Steph! She's curled up in an oversized armchair by the fire, staring absently into the flames, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea.

darling-alexi.livejournal.com

(Out of Milliways: In which Alexi finds out what she missed back home while she was in the bar, and makes a few decisions.)

The front door opens on summer in New York, and half of a phone conversation.
"I'll have to see what I can do, but that sounds like it ought to work. Let me look into--" This time, however, Alexi notices the bar before she's inside.
"Look, I'll have to call you back. Something came up. I'll talk to you later."
She ends the call and steps into the bar, hoping it doesn't decide to keep her again - she has more than work to get back to this time, after all.
At least now she's in a position to do something about her tab. And so she does, writing out a check for the whole amount and giving it to Bar.
She's not planning to come back, once she leaves, so if you'd like to talk to her this would be the moment.

beyond-therest.livejournal.com

I'm here, away from him and all the shit my life drags with it. These cigarettes get better ever time and the vodka, yet another habit to break. The smirk on my face, well it not my doing. So, there it is. My current life wrapped up in three sentences.

Wendy is sitting at the bar, in silence, utterly amused by the various shapes she can make with cigarette smoke.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy comes into the bar, shirt covered with blood. He stops and blinks a little, not having expected to be in here at this exact moment. Fairly casually, as the blood is not in fact his, he heads upstairs to shower and change, before coming back down. One cup of tea and a box of mini doughnuts later, he is settled by the infirmary.

The doctor is in

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Pregnant teen by the fire, wearing a rather tatty pink dress.

This morning Shufti had the rather offputting discovery that no matter how much she loosened her belt, she couldn't get her trousers on. Fortunately Paul had managed to find some of his mother's maternity wear.

She eats vegetable soup and bread, whilst flicking through a large parenting book.

wilsons-musings.livejournal.com

Oncologist inna bar. He's enjoying a nice plate of Chinese food at a table, keeping an eye out for his friend. He wouldn't mind conversation.

agreathunter.livejournal.com

Locke is at the bar with his usual beer and hot dog.

The beer is getting more attention than the hot dog.

jed-leland.livejournal.com

Jed Leland is by the fireplace, reading--what else?--The Inquirer. That's what he appears to be doing, in any case.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells lumbers in from out back, where he's been giving running at top speed in his full armour another go. This time he's been practising somersaults as well, since he's going to need to do that very, very soon. He's sore and bruised all over, though that's going to fade rapidly; right now his major concern is the scratching some of the paint job took.

Anyone who looks over towards the Window will find him with his set of camouflage colour paints, touching up the dings and scratches that allow the original white to show through. The paint took the harm, not the armour.

leplusbeau

Fleur is sitting at the bar, chewing on the end of a match stick.

No, there are no cigarettes in sight! For she must quit! COLD TURKEY!

"Fuck," she mumbles as she takes the matchstick from her mouth and takes a sip of orange juice. No caffeine or alcohol either! "You know," she says to the air, "you better do something incredible. Or buy me a very nice estate in Brittany once thiz iz all done." She touches her stomach through her shirt. "...or juste be really cute. To me. I can handle that."

And goes back to chewing her match stick.

withrocksin

There's something happening here.
What it is ain't exactly clear.
...But in any case, it's got Imp more than a little concerned. Especially considering that last time people randomly got musically inclined, it was his fault.
(stop, children, what's that sound? everybody look what's going down)
It can't be his fault this time, and it doesn't seem like quite the same thing anyway from what he's seen, but that doesn't mean it's any safer, necessarily. To that end, he leaves a note with Bar, requesting that a copy go to anyone who might need it.

( for anyone who got caught up in Plot With Rocks In, on either side of the matter )
He feels a bit better, having done that.

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

"Give me your eyes,
That I might see the blind man kissing my hands.
The sun is humming.
My head turns to dust as he plays on his knees,
As he plays on his knees."

The bottle of White Horse sat uncapped on the table. The Scotch whiskey burned going down, and Ghost sat stretched out in a booth, waiting, eyelids fluttering. Hands moving like white moths in the comfortable dimness. But when the liquor hit his belly, an amber fire began to spread through him and his hands fell down in his lap. There was a door that had appeared, and although he didn't see it yet, he felt it.

"And the sand,
And the sea grows.
I close my eyes
Move slowly through drowning waves.
Going away on a strange day."

When his eyes open, he slides to his feet, and he takes the door.

faithful-slayer.livejournal.com

Slayer inna bar, with coffee and food.

Headphones are in evidence, but no books, this time, Antarian or otherwise.

Conversation welcome.

ballofjoy.livejournal.com

Susanna Kaysen was just writing.

But that notebook of hers has painful memories attached.

And before she knows it, she's not just writing -- but, in fact,

( singing. )

And then she blinks.

And stares at her own hands.

"What ...?"

[Thank you, Jason Robert Brown. And Andrew Gilcrest, who might be a real person.]

blue_ajah

At the end of the universe, as in all worlds, some things are complicated and some are very simple.

Arranging a suitable suite of rooms for the duration -- really only two adjoining ones with a single connecting door, located just down the hall from Moiraine's now-sealed study -- had been simple, and the Aes Sedai had done so in advance, just in case. More complicated had been her disjointed explanation of this fact to Cooper, but understanding took only a few minutes to obtain.

Even still more complicated, as it turns out, had been the issue of coffee versus tea, and the need for a constant supply of both. Although something temporary had hastily been arranged with the waitrats, it seems likely that there will be further discussion on that matter-- disjointed or not.

At the moment, however, Moiraine and Cooper are sitting comfortably enough at a corner table. He has a clear view of the room, with every angle of approach visible. She is seated at a ninety-degree angle from him, and her careful focus is on the cards laid out on the table itself.

"The game of Go Fish," Cooper says, "is not at all like Go, despite the name."

The Aes Sedai just stares at him.

[OOC: The explanation here still applies!]

not_that_spike

( OOM: what mornings are for )

chazaqiel.livejournal.com

The thing about having to change your identity is that if you're granted a week to do it, and you get it done in four or five days... hey. Weekend off.

There's a seven-foot tall dark-haired man at the Bar in blue jeans and a dark sports coat, drinking Atlantean. He looks pleased with himself, if slightly wary.

Yesterday, there was this... singing.

gravity_shifter

Wandering the bar tonight is a petite alien. Sikozu is more petite than usual tonight, as she's not wearing her heavy-duty space boots and is instead walking in her bare feet. It's an interesting sensation.

Her Security badge is, as always, pinned to her belt, should anyone need her.

venusadept_2

Felix, still in catshape ~~because he's afraid changing back will hurt as much as the original transformation~~ is here.

He leaps up onto a table and begins to sing.

Jellicle Cats come out tonight,
Jellicle Cats come one come all;
The Jellicle Moon is shining bright -
Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

Security member in the bar! The tea is more prominently displayed than the badge though. Go figure.

He's friendly though, come and talk to him.

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

[ooms: This evening, some time after Jack has come back from Verona, four travellers set out for the ballet.

Afterwards, Jack Frost and Lethe make their way to Hell and Lethe's River, where things do not go smoothly. This thread contains violence.]

melcene-beloved.livejournal.com

She sits primly at a stool by the bar, her tea largely forgotten as she sews a piece of material into something or other. Her dress, usually green, is now red and it fits her quite a bit better. Her makeups been done as well, actually.

It's a little much, but she and Adam had come to a compromise so she just looks a little dressed up as opposed to like a drag queen. Either way, she looks content and happy and busy.

Things are going better than they could have.

gone_byebye

Ray came in from work in New York City some time ago. It's been busy lately, and he needed to relax. Possibly this explains why he's settled at a wide, well-lit table, busily stitching a Ghostbusters patch onto the sleeve of a rather boggled-looking stuffed Ewok's Jedi robes.

Possibly this has something to do with the proton pack mock-up lying nearby. The stuffed-Ewok-sized pack.

Hey, other people do terrible things to garden gnomes. It's a hobby.

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

Atton enters the bar, looking around, at the door and opening his mouth to order something from a passisng waitrat.

( And ends up singing instead. )

Atton stops abruptly, the choir and orchestra hurriedly departs and Atton is just left looking very confused.

"What the flying kriff?"

wizard_howell

After a hard day's work creating powerful spells and redesigning one's castle, the typical wizard deserves a night's rest.

There's nothing typical, however, about the wizard who bursts through the front door wearing a leather jacket with the words WELSH RUGBY emblazoned across the back. He's already got a pint of cider in his hand -- his third so far -- when he staggers into this particular tavern.

"Oh," he says very much to no one in particular. "Pub hopping, are we? This isn't my local."

empath-wiggin.livejournal.com

[OOM: Smeagol collapses in the snow.]

The backdoor to the bar opens, and Valentine files into the bar, a bundle wrapped in her green cloak. She's obviously quite emotional, just barely shy of screaming as she yells at anyone and everyone in the bar. "I need a healer! Now!" She chokes for a moment. "Please, just... someone help him. I can't do a frelling thing."

Smeagol is in Val's arms, hotter than he really should be.

singlesoledjest.livejournal.com

MERCUTIO. GETCHOUR MERCUTIO RIGHT 'ERE, RIGHT NOW. KNOCK DOWN PRICES, TWO POUNDS A KILO.

By which one means Mercutio, slouched (of course) in a chair and juggling three apples.

Come chat!

master-cat.livejournal.com

Perrault sits by the fire, reading his book -- Histories of Past Times, tonight -- and twitching his tail ever so slightly in time to an unheard tune. A plate of shrimp pastries and a cup of tea rest nearby; a tenative peace has formed with the waitrats.

othercaptjack

It is an oddly quiet Captain Jack Harkness that enters Milliways tonight.

On reaching the Bar, he sits down starts to order vodka, then stops with a grimace and asks for a beer.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says quietly when one appears, no query about what kind. And then he sits, raising the bottle in a silent toast before he drinks.

Here’s to you, Valeria.

I’m really sorry.

flybywash

It's been a good few days back home. Quiet, now that Mal's back, but good.

That's probably why they've been good.

Cane in hand, Wash slides the door back with a muted clank, humming softly to himself. He's taken all of five steps before he stumbles, nearly losing his grip on his cane, face ashen with horror.

It's not because of anything physical.

It's because of who he sees on the other side of the room.

[plotlocked, say xiexie.]

agnes_nitt

The door opens upon total blackness. A moment later, the blackness begins to spread into the bar.

And then it... speaks?

"Yes, Nanny, I know! I will be back as soon as I can!"

Then, the blackness begins to twist, and it becomes apparent that the void is not actually flowing into Milliways, but merely that the door is filled by a large girl wearing all black, with black hair, and a pointy black hat walking backwards.

By the time Agnes has turned around and closed the door, it's become apparent to her that she's not outside Nanny Ogg's cottage as she would have expected, having just walked out that door.

"Well, that's... curious."

pointed-spoon.livejournal.com

The door creaks open. Doors at Milliways do not creak. However, in deference to the old man's sense of tradtion, as well as his sense of humour, this one does. It creaks alarmingly and horribly with a sound sufficiently like nails on a chalk board to make the heartiest of souls cringe in auditory agony.

Dworkin, after the creak has exhausted itself, shuffles through with a small, grunting laugh. He then proceeds to swing the door closed. And open again. And closed. And open again. And closed. And open again.

Then the creaking stops, and Dworkin makes his way towards the bar, depositing a handful of tarnished silver pieces on the surface and picking up the goblet of wine he receives in exchange with a petulant mutter. Along with it comes a slice of bread and plate of chicken, however for the moment the food remains untouched. Probably for the best; the old man's gnarled fingers are stained dark blue with ink.

i-aughra.livejournal.com

The Door bangs open.

Yes, I mean BANGS open. In an explosive manner. Through it comes a great deal of smoke and a something doing a rather accurate impersonation of a human cannonball. The grey-brown-maroon mass crashes into a mass of chairs and tables.

As the sound of clashing and cracking wood fades, it's much easier to hear the pungent cursing coming from the heap. Suddenly, it disgorges a very ticked-off (and significantly singed) seer.

"Scum-sucking crucible! Never should have trusted that dexvak's work!"

spark-girl.livejournal.com

Agatha's tinkering with her latest device again, more cheerful than before. With her tab settled, there's less worry over what Bar might be charging for the use of her tools.

Oh, and food. At Bar's insistence, a sandwich occupies one hand. So far, she's managed to avoid dripping mustard into any of the gears.

symbiote-venom.livejournal.com

Even at the end of the universe, there are things you can't escape. There are still things you find yourself wanting, even if you know you shouldn't have them. It seems that Milliways is a sanctuary against many things: work, paying the rent, dealing with life in general. For many, it's a place to escape to. But you still can't escape yourself.

Eddie's learning this the hard way. Even here, perhaps as far away from New York as he can possibly be, he's still haunted by the decision he's trying to make. He wants it, needs it to live even. But is it worth giving up his sanity again, his humanity?

Beer in hand, Eddie's hunched over the bar as he tries to think. It's not an easy question, and he could really use some company right now, be it to get his mind off the depressing subject, or to help him find the answer he needs.

Either way, he needs help.

finn-beginagain.livejournal.com

Riley is already up at the bar. He stares out of the window at the end of the universe and sighs. Time to cue the minor chords. They're slow and a little saddening as they play. Riley turns and leans backward on the bar as he begins singing.

Let's go down now
into the darkness
of your thoughts
hurry up now

Riley walks toward the chair where he usually curls up (The one near the fire) and then pauses.

We're waiting for
us to fall
I fall to pieces now (I fall to pieces now)
a broken mirror (I fall to pieces)
in your life

The fire dances in his eyes.

((OOC: Please feel free to tag! I'd like innocent bystanders' reactions. Don't worry if you don't know Riley. Come! Join the fun!))

the_antiangst

(Out of Milliways: In which Angel drags Mark along on a shopping expedition. Only fair, as it's Mark's money.)

"--any idea where we might find a door to the bar around here?"
The front door opens; on the other side is a hotel lobby. And Angel, back to the door, wearing the backpack he left with and carrying his garment bag and a couple shopping bags.
And then he turns around. "...Oh. Never mind, then, apparently we get direct service."
Returning party: Angel, Mark Cohen, and Joanne Jefferson. Mark's got a couple more of Angel's shopping bags, and Joanne's got her own luggage.
Come talk to them! But be advised Mark might run off and start a party at any minute.

(Three characters, two muns. Big damn party will be ~~going up in a separate post~~ happening tomorrow, it appears.)

xan-shaped.livejournal.com

Cue Andrew Wells and Xander Harris at a table, enjoying french fries and paradoxes (Xander gets to missing them when he isn't at Milliways).

Something seems ... a little weird tonight.

Of course, a little weird is more or less the status quo around these parts.

"Yeah, some downtime is definitely good," Xander decides mid-munch. "Especially when it doesn't include getting socked in the arm by overzealous Slayerettes."

abs-denham.livejournal.com

It is said by many people ~~including the mother of the mun~~ that 'patience is a virtue'.

The man who has just walked into the bar has decided that this is not true, patients are not a virtue.

Abs sits down at the bar, removing a sodden handkerchief from his bleeding nose as if it is perfectly normal to walk around like that.

"Bar? A tissue please."

He presses the tissue to his nose and squeazes the fleshy part, his head slightly forward.

ncdcas-cable.livejournal.com

Nathan sits in a booth, playing with some circuitry as he watches the bar, a glass of his new favorite drink, butterbeer, next to him.

His eyes glows as parts move around to assist him, seemingly on their own and his metal arm gleams in the lights.

gil-whimple.livejournal.com

Gil wanders out from the kitchen with his notebook in his hand, hooves clicking lightly, and goes to the chalkboard. He takes his chalk out from behind his ear and writes:

Dear customers of Milliways,

Due to the temporary, we hope, absence of out Saturday night chef, Hannibal Lecter, the rest of the kitchen staff are pleased to offer you the following menu in addition to our usual fare. As you will see it is of Italian extraction, but probably naturalised to Milliways by now:

Pollo con Frutta Secca

Il Timballo di Melanzane con Prea di Pomodoro

Trota di Pescatore di Perle

Zabaglione over Fresh Raspberries

We hope you enjoy it.

xx Gil

And he added a smiley faun like he used to for nostalgic purposes.

"Ah well," he said. "it's not the same as the good doctors menus but it'll have to do. Hmm, I hope sooty enjoys the Zabaglione."

Then he pattered back off to get on with cooking it.

prototype-karr.livejournal.com

Lately, KARR has noticed that something is up. People seem to be bursting into a song a lot more often than they used to, and he's not quite sure what to make of it. Drunkness doesn't seem to quite fit the bill. And so the AI is now watching the bar warily, parked in his favorite corner with his scanner flickering back and forth rapidly. He's not about to let himself be goaded into singing as well, and he'd like to have some early warning as soon as another number starts.

dead_hooker_2

Trina Echolls is perched on a barstool, reading a tabloid. There's a picture of her (looking pale and tragic) on the cover under the headline "SICK JOKE."

Whatever she's reading, she seems to be pleased, amused, and a little smug.

No such thing as bad publicity, right?

somnium-sum.livejournal.com

He comes downstairs, smoothing his hand down the length of one sleeve, shoulder to cuff. Under his touch, the glamour of his clothing shifts from the rich forest green brocade to the slightly stiffened black wool. The gold of the shirt hidden behind the collar dulls itself to charcoal.

Footfall near silent, he steps for his door. Opening onto the grey winter of New Jersey, and it closes.

swinging-cod.livejournal.com

Jayne swaggers in, and grins.

Then he stops grinning.

A tussle.

Well, now.

Ain't that downright interesting.

Ain't that just.

[ooc: plotlocked.]

the-fool.livejournal.com

[OOM: After this, outside by the lake, a jester dances through many worlds, an awakening is made, and comfort is given.]

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

Rather tired looking teenager at the bar, with many things on her mind.

She won't tell you what they are. She's sipping a chocolate milkshake and has her feet wrapped around the barstool, fidgeting nervously.

But she would like company.

female-were.livejournal.com

Raina's in the bar. She's curled up on the couch by the fire, the skirt she's wearing pooled around her legs. And there's a glass of red wine balanced on the one knee that's bent. She's switching between watching the fire and the window.

Someone order a distraction? Oh yea, she did.

lethe-forgets.livejournal.com

(OOC: Note - after this.)

There is no flourish, no sparkle, to accompany her this time.

Exhausted and tear-streaked – a broken, shatterglass child – kneeling, shaking, curled in upon herself. It had taken her so long to get back here – too long, too late – this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

"Please – I – so sorry," a repeating litany of pleas and apologies, fingers tangled in haphazard curls and edges of her fizzing and crackling like television static.

All will be well, at least for today.

She hadn’t meant to lie.

valehero.livejournal.com

Isaac inna bar. Sitting at a bar. One glass of his usual drink before him.

Come bother at will...No, not -that- Will!

And, yes, mun is brain-dead when it comes to entrance posts right now... ^_^*

ms-myers.livejournal.com

One former terrorist, now... who knows what, in the bar. With a strawberry daiquiri.

Sometimes you've got to shake things up a bit.

futures_of_ash

Hell has frozen over. Truly. Rachel has actually remembered to eat! In fact, she's doing so now, sitting on the wall by the observation window, eyes locked on the spinning destruction. She probably doesn't taste a bit of the sandwich, nor would she care if she did...

At least Bar's graduated her from broth.

velocitygirl

Inyri's in her usual armchair, crosslegged with her puppy, who really isn't so much of a puppy anymore, in her lap. She's sipping at a cup of tea, idly turning pages in a book.

Come and prod.

missginnytonic.livejournal.com

Ginny's in the bar.. she's sitting at a table.. doing nothing.. wow..

namo

Yes, it is late.

And yes, the Elf is discovering the effects of alcohol on his body.

More appropriately, the Elf has had a glass of Atlantean, and it has practically knocked on him on his ass.

Therefore, he is nursing a glass of brandy while his mind swims from the Atlantean.