(no subject)

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Tea? Check. Grapes? Check. Belly? Very much check.

Zoe hasn't been in the bar much, since getting out of the cells last week--she's been enjoying being back home.

She's here now, though, settled in a chair near the fire.

(no subject)

[missginnytonic.livejournal.com]

Ginny is sitting at a table reading a book come ask her about it.. its her worlds version of drug store romance.

(no subject)

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael and Crowley spent much of the afternoon in the British Museum, arguing quietly (about art, Michelangelo, aesthetics of nudity and any number of subjects, related or no) and knowledgeably enough that by the time they were done they'd unwittingly - at least on Aziraphael's part - gathered quite the audience.

The angel had insisted - eyeing the long communal tables with something very like distaste - that they go elsewhere for tea, which had evolved quickly into Crowley taunting Aziraphael with cream buns, which had led to another argument; Lent, this time. And whether Jesus would have sung a different tune vis a vis temptation, had the cities of the world included London. And sushi bars.

This had, naturally, pointed them in the direction of raw fish and sake, which had led them - by somewhat meandering routes - to the door of the bar.

Crowley heads directly over to order some drinks, and Aziraphael takes a seat at their usual table and beams good-naturedly at the various patrons.

It's been a good day.

(no subject)

[ultimatetourist.livejournal.com]

Beowulf Schaeffer comes down the stairs from his room, and walks over to the bar.

"Hey, bar, I'd like to pay for eh, some people stuck in the bar who can't pay their tab." He puts down a small chip, which glows a moment. "Oh, and a notebook and pen." The notebook and pen appear, and he walks over to a booth, where he starts doodling.

[Edit: fixed so as not to be godmodding, you can use it or not as you wish.]

(no subject)

[witchy-rebel.livejournal.com]

Morgan? Is over this whole pregnancy thing. She's awkward, and tired, and just wants it to be over...But, then again, she doesn't. Over means she'll have to leave and go back to her world, over means having a baby, over means leaving Barty...

Even if she is currently out of sorts and sick of his moping over his mother.

So, there is an irritable young witch in the bar, sitting by the Observation window. Her fingers don't stop moving, playing Cat's Cradle with magic in between brushing her black hair away from her face.

(no subject)

[general-lando.livejournal.com]

Lando, despite living a lifestyle thay can often by laid back, is strangely not one to sleep in. Morning comes, and he is out and about, perhaps working out, or doing whatever paperwork is needed, or just clearing his mind.

So this morning, you can find Lando at the Bar, drinking stim tea but reveiwing several documents on his datapad. Come say hello if you want.

[ooc: mun is online for about two hours]

(no subject)

[noble-samurai.livejournal.com]

Samurai. Bar. Tea. INFURIATED!

Now, there is one thing that everybody should know about Jack. Calm, cool Jack. Hardly ever frustrated. He took years honing not only his body, but his mind. He can solve complicated problems, has outwitted cunning enemies, and countless deadly traps.

But Jack has found the second enemy in the world he simply cannot defeat.

The rubik's cube.

So, samurai inna bar, quietly cursing in several different tongues as he tries to get the demonic little device to obey his commands and be solved, damn it!

Have at.

(no subject)

[die-tician.livejournal.com]

A painfully thin man in black comes in - by the door, for once - and takes a seat at the bar. He opens his razor-thin laptop and pokes a few keys, apparently at random.

In the meantime, Bar offers up a no-cal, carbonated water, flavored with twelve different kinds of chemical sweeteners. Sable smiles, pats her surface with an appreciation he probably doesn't feel, and settles in.

Double-pup post at breakfast-time

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

Asar-Suti and Maglor sat by the fire, with breakfasts and lists; now that Nerdanel had woken up, they were once again planning that Easter breakfast. Every second question, the purple deity answered with "I'll have to ask Gil about that," and made a note on yet another list.

Maglor grinned at that, worked his way through his stack of classic pancakes with maple syrup, and never once used the word 'henpecked'.



[[OOC: The usual - say who, either or both. Also, intermittence all day, as there are appointments, visitors, chores and whatnot.]]

(no subject)

[giftedthom.livejournal.com]

*Thom comes into the bar, distracted, and sits down in a booth.

He looks as if he's trying not to wait for something. You know what they say about watched pots.*

(no subject)

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

[Out of Milliways: Patrick Bateman goes to the theatre, and has a problem with one of the actors. Warnings for blood apply.]

(no subject)

[beautiful_ann]

Sunday evening, and Ann's somehow found herself in Milliways again.

Of course, just because she's spending Sunday evening in a bar doesn't mean there aren't things to be taken care of. She's settled into a booth mending a blouse carefully and sipping coffee between stitches. It's a calm little scene.

(no subject)

[jedi-exile.livejournal.com]

The Exile never made it home (if you can call Kreia's old room on the Ebon Hawk home) last night.

She wandered down about half hour ago, and has been staring at the exploding universe since.

She looks most bored.

Exit post.

[last-handmaiden.livejournal.com]

Ever since seeing the Exile yesterday, Handmaiden has become obsessed with finding her way back to the Ebon Hawk.

So! One white-clad ghosty-looking woman prowling around the Bar, staring very intently at the walls. As soon as she finds a door, she is out of here.

(no subject)

[alwaysroomforhope]

Steph, in a skirt. She hasn't had time to do much laundry this week, all right?

Curled up in the oversized squishy armchair she's most often found in, with a plate of lasagne and a mug of tea. (Rafters + skirt = not such a good idea, really.)

There are other armchairs invitingly nearby.

(no subject)

[shufti]

Shufti comes down the stairs, tiny infant strapped to her front in a baby sling. She gets bread, fruit and cheese from the bar before settling by the fire to eat lunch.

Re-entry post

[obligatoryass]

Logan's been a busy boy.

Manipulating a perfectly sweet and darling girl for your own ends is apt to keep one occupied. Getting her shipped off to Vermont at the same time you've wormed your way out of legal troubles? Leaves one with rather a lot more free time.

So he's only a little disappointed to find himself in the Bar. Yachting alone is not really much fun, after all.

Slipping into a booth, he orders a virgin pina colada. It's an order he makes grudgingly, but boat drinks seem appropriate, even though his plans are rather spoiled.

(no subject)

[guppy_sandhu]

[oom: A good night and a pair of sharp eyes]

The first note was, at best, marginally weird. The second has resulted in mass blinking for Guppy this afternoon.

'Why don't you try learning her name.
-Your friendly local sex advisor'

Even though he's fairly certain that Abs is behind the notes, he'd still rather they made some sort of sense. Or at very least explained who it was he was supposed to be noticing.

(no subject)

[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

Patrick Bateman.

He is wearing a discreet argyle sweater vest and subdued navy slacks. His belt and his shoes match, but his socks nor his tie do not match the vest as it would look too studied. Going for casual today.

He is thinking Zen. Wearing the headphones to the Walkman in his hand and staring out the observation window, eyes vacant. He's trying to listen to his new George Michael tape while trying to (have Faith. George Michael was trying to change his image so he would appeal to a more adult audience, something that wasn't easy after hit singles like 'Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go'.) ponder the imponderables of life.

(no subject)

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

There's an Atton, at a booth, looking glum and, perhaps surprisingly, deep in thought, shuffling pazaak cards and sipping something green. Probably lomin ale.

(no subject)

[last_adam]

*Maybe it's morning, maybe it's afternoon. Maybe it's the middle of the night. It doesn't really matter so much to Adam what time it is, or even who's around. Because, as he steps back into the bar, he has his arm around somebody who hasn't been back in two months. Two very long months, and maybe she's not looking like she used to, but she's back.*


[OOC: All tags WILL be gotten to, with apologizes for slow playing. *loves*]

(no subject)

[sister-lucy.livejournal.com]

Overly tall Angel inna bar.

Lucy's sitting at a table, legs stretched out, watching her favourite view - the end of the universe.

The parasol and fruity drink are noticeably absent.

(no subject)

[beyond-therest.livejournal.com]

I'm getting more accustomed to sitting at the bar. My messenger bag beside me and settling with a glass of Kahlua and milk. Needed something sweet. I'm messing with my belly button ring (it's shiny and dangles, like a mini chandelier), it was a gift, my friends still trying to make me over. My cigarettes, you ask?...thinking about giving it up or at least cutting down, despite my oath to resist the many anti-smoking campaigns. Got a patch, my bad self. I sit reading the box to myself for a minute.

"Apply patch to upper arm, change patch every two days, and forget about it. How easy."

I think not.

(no subject)

[seker-pride.livejournal.com]

You know a trip someone has taken is a success when you look at all the souveniers they bring back.

Strahan's brought back a few of them, but the greatest of his souveniers are the ideas for animal shape he got during his trip to Africa.

That's why, striding amongst the tables—and knocking over quite a few—is what is perhaps the tallest shapeshift Strahan has ever attempted. A giraffe.

Yeah. A giraffe. In Milliways. A giraffe.

That's apparently misjudged the proportions of the animal in relation to the bar, because its bumping its head against a few rafters when it forgets to duck.

He really should pick smaller animals when he shifts his shape...

But for now, it's an opportunity to stare, gawk, laugh, curse as your table is upended.

For he'll be smaller tomorrow.

(no subject)

[sonofwhitecity.livejournal.com]

Boromir is still working on The Illiad, with his supper mostly ignored on the table. He is also trying the concoction known as coffee--he finds its bite pleasing, now that he's accustomed to it.

(no subject)

[futures_of_ash]

Rachel...is inside today. She's already been out on the lake, and now she seems to have a new project, or so most would assume. She sitting on the floor with a handful of sand. Not the stony scree of the lakeshore, but white, light catching beach sand.

It's slowly sifting through her fingers to the floor by her knee, her eyes intent upon each grain as it pools in gentle piles, and something in how it falls has her smiling softly.

She's open to distraction of course.

(no subject)

[reapsandcons.livejournal.com]

Daisy Adair -- in.
She really did need the break.
Haiku is sticky --

-- and her mun has been
Writing it while in the car
Heading out of state.

Daisy's at a booth.
Having a milkshake and fruit.
Do come say hello.

(Don't expect your tags
To still be in haiku form
It causes headaches.)

(no subject)

[angela-edmunds.livejournal.com]

She's not sleeping well.

Which explains the coffee in her hand, right?

At any rate, Angela is in the bar, with notebook, writing.

She is dressed nicely and her makeup looks good.

How does she manage to still look like hell?


She'd like company, though. And maybe a friendly hug.

(no subject)

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

Dworkin enters the bar.

He happens, of course, to be swearing rapidly under his breath because he can't remember where the hell he left his quilly and ink but then there's a bar.

The question moot, the old man makes a beeline for the observation window, sits close to the barrier.

Dworkin watches the destruction with a frighteningly avid expression.

(no subject)

[not-one-drop.livejournal.com]

Mal inna bar. Looking much the same as always, thin, beat up, tired, happyish. She's got a cigarette, this time, and a lighter that she keeps flicking, watching the flame thoughtfully.

Come say hi, she'd like a little company.

[ooc: Back room post applies, people. Possible slowtime in the works.]

Entrance Post

[tragic_mask]

[Pre-Milliways]

It was a little bit strange, and made her slightly angry. But Mel felt she had the right to be after stepping into what was, by all appearances, a familiar bar, and then finding herself in a distinctly different one. This one had no bartender and no pineapple juice (spiked or not) in sight. And there was also the fact that when she turned around she couldn't find the door she'd come in through. Even after she rubbed her eyes and looked carefully.

She had to wonder, of course, what was going on.

Mel sat down in a booth, looked around, and raised an eyebrow. She said something almost audibly, still dripping cold, dirty rainwater. "Well. This is different."

(no subject)

[female-were.livejournal.com]

Raina is lounging full out on a couch. Her eyes are closed, but the wine glass balanced on her knee should be a key that she's still awake. She's enjoying the sounds of the bar. Really.

Though feel free to see if you can sneak up on the werewolf. It's always more fun to startle someone when a glass of red wine is at stake.

(no subject)

[mollyprewett.livejournal.com]

Molly finds herself being something she's usually not. Bored.

Hence, she goes to Lady Bar and asks for something to keep her occupied. What appears makes Molly laugh.

And laugh!

Anyone know how to ride a unicycle?

(no subject)

[shining-mercury.livejournal.com]

Cue one blue-haired teenager sitting in a booth, contentedly working on what appear to be very complicated mathematical equations.

She has a sandwich and hot chocolate, and she's really very nice and not at all intimidating.

Unless you ask her to explain what she's doing.

(no subject)

[noble-samurai.livejournal.com]

If one were to look outside by the lake, they would likely see a young samurai performing slow, sweeping slices with his sword, running through a few easy exercises to center himself and help clear his head. It resembles a slow dance, as if Jack is battling in slow-motion with enemies nobody but he can see. His eyes are closed, his body moving with grace, his sword rending the air around him like it's an extension of his arm, not a separate piece of weaponry at all.

Feel free to come by and say hello to the calm samurai. He won't slice bite.

(no subject)

[die-tician.livejournal.com]

[OOM: War pays a visit to Famine in her new capacity as a government employee. Unsurprisingly, not much government business gets discussed.]

(no subject)

[wereoutofajob.livejournal.com]

He's got ten minutes. Ten minutes before the plane to the island leaves. Ellie ran into the airport to make a call to her fiancee and Grant-

Whistling Janey's got a Gun by Areosmith. (an outdoors man and a metalhead) Grant pushes open the door to the bar. It takes a few moments before he realizes where he is.

Pulling off the walkman, Grant sighs, "-Goddamnit."
Well hey, at least the plane'll wait right? However if this was going to be a regular habit then he'd make sure to cautiously open doors to rooms and things. Good lord-what if this appeared in his house?

Grant peers about anxiously and-upon spotting his original quarry, makes a hurried dash to the back of the bar. He returns a few moments later, refreshed.

Glancing about for a few moments, Grant takes a seat at a booth and pulls a crumpled X-ray from his pocket, staring intently. Last chance for any observations about it before he heads to the island.

There's a bit of a feeling of dread as Grant flips the drawing over. He's made several notes.

(no subject)

[young_tmriddle]

( OOM: A troubling discovery in Diagon Alley )

( Owl to Tonks, as a result )

(no subject)

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

In a well-lit booth, there is quite a facinating collection of objects. Mostly maps, really - some very old, some very modern, all of London. It's always London, isn't it? Anyway. There's also lots of rulers, pens, pencils, a rather battered-looking calculator, an Ace, a mug of cocoa, some samosas, and a small chunk of concrete.

Some of these objects are more animated than others, yes.

(no subject)

[pirate_jack]

The front door to Milliways bangs open. Beyond it, a cave mouth can be seen. It looks like a beautiful day outside the cave, with clear bright skies and calm seas. The Black Pearl is barely visible, floating at anchor on the gently rolling waves.

The man who stalks through the door and kicks it shut behind him, however, is anything but calm. Black eyes are glittering with something half-wild and barely leashed. There's a fey temper about Jack Sparrow today-- something dangerous.

Or perhaps interesting.

(no subject)

[azarathsraven.livejournal.com]

There sits a Raven at a table and writing down something in her journal with almost a furious air to it. She was scribbling down what bits of dream she could remember before it escaped her completely.

Finishing what she wrote, she leaned back and sighed heavily. There it was all down on paper and that what was important to her.

Now she could relax and stop worrying about leaving out details. Reaching for her mug of tea she took a sip from the cup and sighed in contentment.

Feel free to chat with Rae, she's not doing much else at the moment.

(no subject)

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

Behold! There is a Gorlim in the bar, sitting sideways in a booth with his legs stretched out on the bench.

Somewhere, he's managed to acquire a Ruvix cube.

From the look on his face, it's possible the thing may soon be meeting its demise at the end of his sword.

(no subject)

[tristranthorn]

...And Tristran Thorn, weary traveller, is back in the bar after a slightly unsuccessful few days in his quest for the fallen star.

He sort of needs a drink and a moment's peace to sort out his thoughts. Tristran orders a mug of ale from Bar and takes a seat at one of the empty tables.

He wouldn't mind someone to talk to.

(no subject)

[river_meimei]

Look along the wall -- in the middle of the row of booths, just there. Look down, into the shadows under the table. Just there.

River lies on her back, eyes closed, dark hair spreading around her. Her face is blank and listening; her hands are pressed to the floorboards, fingers spread against the smooth wood.

(no subject)

[yesterdays-jam.livejournal.com]

[oom: Roy is not the most observant crayon in the box]

The door is open -- doesn't open, just is suddenly -- and after a moment, just long enough to indicate an awkward pause in a sentence--

A man, somewhere in his mid-thirties, with curly brown hair, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt -- leaps in.

No, really. Leaps in, lands on both feet, waving an arm and vaguely pointing, triumphantly.

"HAAA--"

...

"--ah?" Beat. "Moss?" ... "Jen?

"What happened to your office?"


[ooc: note to self, don't post entrances after nine when sleep is needed -- SLOWTIME PLZ ♥]

(no subject)

[wer-storm.livejournal.com]

A long absent Peter Heerkins pokes his head in the door. Peering around for well, anyone, he heads for the Bar and sits.

"Uhhh... oh, chocolate milk, please."

Sipping the cold chocolatey goodness through a straw, Peter directs his attention to the room.

Man, lots of new faces. I gotta get back here more often.

(no subject)

[capt_angie]

Angelina enters the bar, and settles into a chair by the fire. She slips off her coat and orders a Butterbeer from a passing waitrat. She pulls a magazine out of her bag, and starts reading.

Company is always welcome.

(no subject)

[simon_doctor]

Niska's not in the bar tonight. Which means that Simon and River can be.

Which means that there's a couple of Tams sitting on their favorite couch near the fireplace.

There's a clear line of sight to both the infirmary hallway and the booth River's in. There's also a couple of beers and a large plateful of spicy chicken wings, of the sort that are nearly impossible to eat tidily.

Simon's managing, so far.

(no subject)

[ncdcas-cable.livejournal.com]

Nathan, called Cable, sits at the bar. He is taking apart, oiling, and putting back together, several large guns.

Large as in arm length and arm width size.

he is perhaps humming as he works and his left eye glows softly blue.

(no subject)

[walker-cain.livejournal.com]

Cain settles into a booth, munching on fried paradoxes and watching the bar as he sips wine from a glass. The bottle sits nearby, as does a paperback book, halfway read. He is smiling as he watches the bustle.

(no subject)

[simple-aeronaut.livejournal.com]

The door swings open, almost like an old-style saloon door, and a man walks in. Tall, lean and sardonic-looking, he stands and surveys the room for a moment or two while he fumbles a box of cigars and a match from his pocket, propping his old rifle against his leg. His coat and shirt are stained with dried blood, and more than a little ragged.

There's a scruffy, thin brown hare with him, hopping at his feet, and it's her he's addressing when he finally speaks, lighting a cigar.

"Well, Hester. Cain't say this is what I thought we'd come to."

(no subject)

[gone_byebye]

The door swings open to a smell of ozone and the sound of something screaming in three pitches at once. There's a whumm noise, a flare of ferocious orange-blue light-

Ray, in his Ghostbusting jumpsuit and proton pack, jumps backwards through the door and slams it shut behind him. It takes him several moments of panting to turn around look around him, and head for the bar, where he requests a large glass of the green stuff quite as if nothing had happened.

It may take him a bit to realize that while he's got the glass in his left hand as he heads for a seat near the Window, he's got his de-activated 'sabre in his right. Sometimes he forgets.

(no subject)

[twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com]

Quinn's been around today. Just not anywhere that anyone was likely to see him. The Bar's been a little bit too much for him, the past few days; oh, he's tried, but there's been so many people, so many things, so much to consider- he couldn't do it inside. Not if he wanted anything at all to make any sense in his head. So he's been outside, today, regardless of the weather. Out under the trees- trees as thick as a man, as tall as a house, trees that've never known the fire- out where he could think. Or else he's been out with his horse, because it doesn't take much thought to groom and ride. There's plenty of space to think when you're doing that.

Thought doesn't fill the stomach, though, so he's inside now. He's got one of the tables and there's fish on the plate, which is always good. He's also got his drawing-pad from yesterday. It's open to the page where he started sketching out one of the dragons he, unfortunately, knows so goddamned well.

(no subject)

[ruddy-normal.livejournal.com]

Vernon wanders down the stairs from his room, tuts at the giraffe making its way through the bar, and stares for a moment of pure rage at the sign calling in tabs. He didn't ask to end up at this bloody place. There's a few pounds left in his wallet to pay for a pint, but he's in a poor temper when he finds a place to sit down.

He's going to have to find a job, though. Let it never be said that Mr Vernon Dursley is scrounging on the dole.

(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

[OOC: Letter to Tom Riddle]