milliways_bar | Apr. 23rd, 2006

Apr. 23rd, 2006

gorlim.livejournal.com

So, at some point after a certain in-progress OOM, Gorlim is in the bar.

He has the look of a man who has taken a lifetime of punishment in the past week, but given at least that much right the hell back. His right hand is bandaged, there are bruises around both wrists and his face, and though the rest of his body is heavily clothed, he moves like it probably hurts.

He is presently attempting to negotiate a rat for absinthe.

Come help him out (and the rat) and convince him it's probably a bad idea for someone THAT heavily armed to be drinking with the green fairy.

notboundnow.livejournal.com

For a god with as itchy heels as Prometheus has got, he manages to find enough to keep him in Milliways for the moment. Primarily, this means Miz Bar's very smooth, very very fine whiskey. Throw in some cigarettes, and you've got one happy (as he can be at any given time these days, anyway) Titan watching the world go by.

He's eager to make new pals. He likes seeing how humans turned out -- they are his magnum opus, after all.

fighting_mad

Plourr slaps the door panel, it hisses open-- and she twitches backward when she finds herself looking at Milliways. "Kriffing bar, always trying to scare me," she grumbles. She glances back over her shoulder, and even though she probably shouldn't ~~due to the paper that mun should be writing~~, she steps in. And so there is a bald pilot in an eye-burningly orange flightsuit sitting at the Bar, flipping through a book. Admittedly, she'd scoffed when Bar first produced it, because it's clearly ancient and backwards, and, well, it's a book, but she is fairly well-engrossed now. If occasionally laughing under her breath.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

It was a busy evening for a while there, as Malcolm Crowe did the doctor thing, patching up some fellow barmates who made an unexpected visit to Quinn's world.

Now it's time for a late-evening scotch. And he's been joined by a former Watcher who shares his love of scotch, though a different brand.

To Wesley's surprise, Malcolm is asking him questions about magic in other dimensions, and they're into quite a discussion now, though they probably wouldn't mind being interrupted....

futures_of_ash

Rachel is in a very good mood. She could even be possibly be described as high on Archie and Svava's happiness. This perhaps explains the grin that won't go away, and the abandoned cup of thick soup on a table.

Abandoned, because there's music...

Rachel's dancing, alone as she knows how, by Yrael as he plays, flame often licking up around her to join in the dance.

homeless-pard.livejournal.com

Khemrys has been in Bar, though rarely indoors it seems. At dawn she has been outside tocontinue salvaging and restoring the abandoned herb garden...and come dusk she's been back upstairs in the new stillroom to work at least some small simples.

To say the least, she looks tired...but happy in a calm way as she actually takes her meal downstairs in Bar proper tonight.

Come poke the poor girl?

silvia-broome.livejournal.com

Is the mun insane enough to throw Silvia in at this late hour? Why, yes, I'd reckon she is.

And the hour's just as late for Silvia: she shuffles in the bar wearing a sweatshirt, pajama bottoms and plain slippers. She takes a few weary blinks, her eyelids partially closed to block out the sudden burst of light.

...where's the refrigerator?

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

Ichigo strides in with a great big satisfied looking smirk on his face. Quite different from his usual passive to Don't-make-me-go-upside-your-head sort of look. But then again, you'd be pretty pleased with yourself too if you just finished taking down a monster the size of a skyscraper.

...he's also choosing to ignore the part afterwards where his own spiritual powers nearly ripped his body apart. That's not important anyways!

The Soul Reaper makes his way to the bar, as opposed to some secluded booth, sets down his over-sized sword, and orders himself a chocolate milkshake before turning and eyeing the surrounding area with that same smile on his lips.

One pleased Shinigami inna bar.

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

Venom sits by himself off in a corner, partially concealed by the shadows. No disguise today, no attempt to hide his monstrous appearance. He isn't in the mood to scare people, for once. He has what might be considered a thoughtful look on his face, but really, it's hard to tell.

Something's stirring deep down, and he doesn't like it.

iambetadraconis

[OOM: Rabastan and Strength meet up briefly, and Strength informs him of Gorlim's bargain with Ruin. [He seems to be taking it well...]]

Current Mood: confused

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

[OOM. Cairo, Egypt 1938 - While boozing, partying and fraternizing with lovely ladies would be nice, Indy has baser needs...]

simon_doctor

[In the infirmary: Simon Tam checks on, and talks to, the recently-arrived Shane. Millitimed to Saturday afternoon.]

middle-name-s.livejournal.com

[Out of Milliways, and into Twin Peaks:

Cooper is gone.

Harry is baffled. Andy is sorry. Hawk is concerned.

How's Annie? Still rocking the coma.]

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

After this, there's a sullen and sulky wizard sitting at the bar, and asking for a lot of firewhiskey. For pain-killing purposes. Really. That's all.

Nothing to do with the pair of donkey ears he was currently sporting.

underdarkangel.livejournal.com

Drizzt can be found this night by the lake again training this time with a big grin on his face as he twirls his scimitars with lighting speed.

He has acquired a practice dummy which currently look as if it was years old, not freshly made.

anyhow he's always up for some conversation. Anyone wanna stop by and say Hi?

a-fell.livejournal.com

Aziraphael's spent a very pleasant day in London with Crowley, watching Morris dancers and Mummers and listening to Crowley mutter mutinously (and apparently alliteratively) about modern attitudes to reptiles. The angel, on the other hand, was able to watch Judy beat a crocodile about the head with a rolling pin with every sign of enjoyment; street theatre, of course, is a highly subjective thing.

He'd dragged the suspiciously agreeable demon off to sushi, next, and they'd been on their slow way to the bar when Crowley had suddenly remembered something, dreadfully important, that had to be dealt with Just That Minute. So it's the angel on his own that enters the bar, popping into the Tonks-Wrangle flat to check up on the masses before ordering a bottle of white and picking up a couple of glasses, just in case.

He's settled at his usual table, looking vaguely around for someone to chat to.

Current Mood: content

aj_crawley

[OOM:

'Twas the eve of St. George's
With mist all about,
Cloaking wheelings and dealings
In the old Riddle House...

]

aj_crawley

[After this.]

Crowley, entering the bar, does not seem particularly out of form to the casual observer - nor even to the purposeful watcher. Rather, if anything about the demon were to be said to be off, it is that he seems almost too normal. Studiously so, even, hands in his pockets as he wanders in, a perfect imitation of his usual saunter carrying him towards Aziraphael's table.

gonna_live

[Out of Milliways, a couple of days ago:

After a tangerine, there is talking.

But no talking cats.

Sorry.]

simple-tool.livejournal.com

[OOM: A foolish puppy picks out a Tool]

lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com

(Somewhat Out of Milliways)

And in Milliways he is lounging in a throne that can't decide what it wants to be, while examining a flower that grows in the dreams that Sunny has when she dreams about her little brother. Dandelions, some of which are pink.

He's considering giving a bouquet of them to the Tonks-Wrangle family.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

The door opens, and from beyond it, loud music can be heard. At the moment, it's Barenaked Ladies. Mark steps through, holding a can of white wall primer, and wearing a completely paint-splattered outfit. Before he can really get through the door, however, he is hit in the back of the head with a glob of paint. A voice calls through the door, unintelligable to all but Mark. He turns, yelling back through the door. "I am so going to get you for that later. Yeah, yeah. You go get lunch. I'll do all the work around here." He kicks the door shut, shaking his head. "Roommates."

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

Mal has finally started to really heal, and has reached a milestone - being able to walk without falling down every few steps. So, she's celebrating.

Ish.

Anyway, she's at a booth near the fire, smoking, and thoughtfully watching the bar.

Is she watching you?

soweroflife.livejournal.com

[OOM: In the Garden, Kokopelli heals]

gorlim.livejournal.com

[OOM: After his brief tussle with Ruin in the bar (here, displaying behaviour of a sort that would get most people institutionalized and heavily medicated), Gorlim returns to Namo's room to find his children. Because the muns are clearly insane, this turned into an all-night (200-tag) riding lesson, in which there was even an actual horse involved for a while! ...*cough* >.>

Warnings for smut and sap and that peculiar brand of heavily metaphorical prose that Ven tends to produce at inhuman hours of the morning. The titles and authors of the poetry Gorlim recites are whitetexted into the paragraph breaks, should anyone want to know what they are. And um. Saundra's wrap tag is really sweet. ^_^]

finds-it.livejournal.com

[Pre-Milliways: This neighborhood's going down the tubes... AKA Why Angels Are Bad For Property Values]

do?

I turn my head and look for Suzie, but she's not there. That's when I hit the table.

The case in my hand goes flying, sliding off into the bar. At least, that's what I figure happened.

I'm a little busy being knocked out.

[ooc: John's unconscious. The case is somewhere in the bar. Have at one or the other. One (the case) is plotlocked, the other? Not.]

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Another day, another run.

Alright, so perhaps Ace isn't so continuously fitness-savvy as that, but she hasn't felt terribly fit to fly of late, so running has been resorted to as a means to keep the wilder half satisfied. Not quite as good as her usual mode of operations, but it will do, for now.

So there's an Ace strolling into the bar, still rather dampish from her shower, intent on getting a good breakfast. Waffles. Waffles sound really good right now.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

[OOM. Cairo, Egypt 1938 - With a plan in mind, Indy finally surrenders to Nazi wishes. And the tables turn for a brief while...]

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

[OOM. Suite 132 - Sunday morning recreation with the duckies. Sounds harmonious and slightly lurid? You have no idea. Things turn horribly sour, and it's not because of Lemon & Lime Squeakins...]

[OOC: This thread was started a long time ago. Please handwave Lilly's apparent illness as being a hangover or something similarly non-debilitating. Thanks.]

gone_byebye

[OOM: Despite what Ray might think, Peck really does care about Ray's welfare. Just... you know, not for nice reasons.]

lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com

Sometimes dreams are not, exactly, unreal.

Lord Charles Kennedy learns this.

lvpd_sidle

Sara has coffee.

And is cleaning her gun.

Just another average day for a CSI.

Bother.

me-phistopheles.livejournal.com

In a dark corner, Mephistopheles is sitting in a booth reading the Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. This devil finds this book amusing. He lifts his head out of the book and sips his absinthe. He maybe be busy with the book but he is willing to talk to anyone who pokes him.

not_that_spike

( OOM: on Route 66, in the asteroid belt )

notanormalfox.livejournal.com

There's a Mulder in the bar!

And his mun lacks inspiration, so for the sake of his sanity and hers, Mulder's got a walkman-He's fallen asleep, leaning back in the booth with his feet up on the table.

Feel free to talk to him about it. Wake him up.

mnt_mike

There's a blur of activity coming from the stairwell to the Guest Suites. At least it's a colorful blur of activity, all orange and blue with just a hint of pink and purple. What ever it is, it's moving fast. A blur on a mission.

As the blur moves more into the bar it's far easier to make out that it's not a blur at all, but a slayer and ninja ex-turtle on a mission.
They're on a mission from ~~Glod~~ Lilly. A rescue mission to save one of their own.

"No Marshmallow-Fluff, trust me when I say the scythe will sort of blow the whole under cover thing right out of the water. It's like 12 feet high and bright red. I know Nazis are dumb and all, but they're not that dumb."

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

He staggers in, looking--

There are no words for how he looks, nothing that could ever express the heartbreak in every line on his face, every movement, every breath. He is a man beaten, a man brought low. The Sword of the Rivan King looks like nothing so much as a terrible weight over his shoulder, pressing him down, crushing him under the burden of fate. Strong limbs shake and steady eyes shine and he doesn't even realize where he is until he stumbles into a chair that had no right to be in his tent.

His heart constricts in his chest as he recognizes Milliways, as he looks to the bar. In his mind's eye, he sees himself serving drinks with Ce'Nedra atop his thigh, holding the baby and introducing him to any and everyone who would come up. His eyes sting and burn from it, from the thought, and he shakes his head as the wetness drips down his face and onto the floor. He flops into the seat he'd stumbled into.

Oh gods.

[ooc: not plotlocked, but unless you're a familiar face, backing away slowly is probably for the best. If you ARE a familiar face, PLEASE feel free to tag. Please.]

scion-of-amber.livejournal.com

And the number of princesses in the bar has gone up by one, even if Fiona doesn't currently look it, sitting on a table in a pair of jeans and wooden platforms as she is.

The number of Amberites is another question, but she's most likely to be the only one in.

So, little redheaded princess, drinking absinthe on a table. And, yes, she does have her Trumps with her. She always does.

skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com

Svava is down in the bar. On duty- her Security Badge is clipped to her belt, and there is a cup of hot chocolate near at hand as she keeps a general eye on things.

And yes, she is looking better than she has been, of late. You can certainly ask to find out why.

floating-skull.livejournal.com

There's a skull in the bar. He's floating near a table - bobbing up and down every few minutes. At this table is a scroll, a quill and an inkpot.

The skull isn't using them. He's just...hovering. Maybe he's bored. Maybe he needs some inspiration. Maybe you can help?

asar-suti.livejournal.com

In the dark corner beside the fireplace, Asar-Suti met a vampire he knew. Khayman remembered him, too. "Oh, you're the one who bonked so loudly when you stayed at Lestat's that other time," he said, unconcerned. "When Lestat's clock was slowly going wonky."

Asar-Suti knew nothing of any clock, but he admitted to the loud bonking without blushing too purple. That had been his first holiday with Gil...

silvia-broome.livejournal.com

This, obviously, is not the exterior of a movie theater. This is the interior of a bar, and, as always, Silvia Was Not Supposed to Be Here. It's her day off, though, and unlike before she's fully awake. There's a folded bag of popcorn in one hand (a not-so-empty box of rasinettes stored inside) and a half-empty cup of soda. Silvia's a big believer in taking the experience home with you. She claims a booth, places the food items on the table top, and promptly pulls out a book from her purse. Silvia's also a big believer in being prepared.

Bother her if you'd like. She doesn't mind; she might even share some of her rasinettes with you.

Current Mood: cheerful

ardens-guard.livejournal.com

One Prince of Amber, inna bar. One blissfully unaware Prince of Amber, when it comes to certain matters pertaining to his ~~girl~~friend and a certain Tarot card, anyway.

But whether you have news of it or not, he's relaxing in a booth and in a mood for company. Have at, if so inclined.

stopped-signal.livejournal.com

Mr. Universe is down in the bar, sitting at a table with his laptop.

This is perfectly usual.

What is slightly less so is the small black case visible under the table by his feet. He's just looking after it until he can figure out who it belongs to.

flybywash

[OOM: Millitimed back to a couple days after Kaylee shares her plans for dealing with Niska, Wash, Mal, and a few bottles of alcohol hold a convention on the bridge.

It goes about as you'd expect.]

sorrowfulmisery.livejournal.com

There is a bio weapon sitting on the edge of the back of a chair. Why she's sitting like that is probably beyond her and everyone else in the place. She's finding out that she can make things appear pretty much out of nowhere and make them dissolve back into nothingness. They really did a number on her last time she was experimented on by Umbrella Corp. If she has any of her guns on her it can't be seen. It doesn't matter really. If she needed them she could easily make them appear. She waves down a waitrat and orders a Vodka Martini. Not something she normally drinks but that doesn't matter.

dragonmelody.livejournal.com

Menolly rubs her eyes as she climbs up the stairs. Beauty thrills from where she perches, nibbling at her hair in an attempt to lighten the mood. The beautiful and worn guitar hangs from the girls back as she reaches out to open the door, wincing as her over stretched hand meets the cold metal.

A cool draft hits her face and she closes her eyes while stepping into the room, Rockey and Diver swooping through the door before it closes. She takes another step when strange smells hit her and her eyes open to see... What did she see?

A red-haired, Wide-eyed teenager stands staring at the scene around her as three small dragons, two bronze and one gold, cluster around her their eyes whirling red and their voices peeping though the air. She takes a step backward and bumps into the doorway.

jedi-exile.livejournal.com

In a darker corner of the bar, the Exile sits. Watching everyone.

She knows she should leave soon, because she has yet another mission to go on, but she doesn't want to leave. Not until she talks to someone. And if that doesn't happen today, then she'll still wait.

She's sitting in a booth, with a tiny shot of juma juice, and some reading material the bar decided she should read (which she's glancing at funnily, because really, why would Bar want her to read about gizkas?).

shakenstrfaith.livejournal.com

Agent Scully was in the bar, even though she'd been in and out the infirmary as well. She was glancing over her notes, while she had some lunch. She tapped her pen thoughtfully as she looked them over intently, adjusting her reading glasses. Lucky to be able to get a replacement pair from the bar.

underdarkangel.livejournal.com

Drizzt can be found down by the lake today, as it is the safest place for him to train.
His blades dance across the field with lighting speed as he dives twists and rolls his feet always in position. His blade work is that of one who has studied for years upon years.

He is not adversed to talking though so fee free to stop by and introduce yourself.

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

Molly came down the stairs with a spring in her step and smile on her face and made her way to the bar for a bowl of soup and some fresh bread.

She was hoping to run into Magius tonight, but would be more than pleased to meet (almost) anyone else, too.

magius-unlocked.livejournal.com

Magius sits in a booth, studying a large tome. It is a spellbook from his world and he is refreshing his memory on a spell he doesn't use often, but that is now of interest. Nearby, the Staff of Magius leans against the wall, with a gently glow all around it.

(Milli-Description: Staff of Magius, Magius's Version: The Staff of Magius was created by Magius a long time ago and has been slowly gathering magic to it over all the centuries it has been in existence. It appears at first glance to be a slightly longer than quarterstaff sized piece of wood, with banding of a steel-like metal at top and bottom, Above the top banding it a bronze dragon's claw which holds a crystal ball in it's grasp. Since arriving at Milliways, the presence of foreign magics has slowly mutated this version, causing it to begin to gain sentience. it is nearing the time when it will be released. Magius has even gone so far as to give it a name in honor of a dead Comrade. Humara. It is very powerful and cannot be taken from where Magius puts it, or from his grasp without his willing it.)

slayer_fray

( So, I'm totally in the whoring business now )

[OOC: Milltiemd to the night of Mel and Mike's return, Mel and Lilly catch up on Lilly's new project]

latino_menace

Ramon's in the bar, a bag on the floor next to him and a large briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. He's got the air of someone here to do something but whatever it is, it can obviously wait until after a few stiff drinks.

In a booth then, with Random's tarot card sticking out of his shirt pocket and fingers tapping on the table distractedly. Feel free to bother him while he waits.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

[OOM. Cairo, Egypt 1938 - Mike and Mel arrive in North Africa and start to search for Indy. After a coffee break, a close shave, and a change of disguise, the (meandering) trail leads them to the German stronghold. Once inside, things start to seriously heat up...]

[Rated PG-13 for violence.]

thelastearthman.livejournal.com

There's nothing like sitting by a fireplace for introspection. Arthur's seated in one of the comfy armchairs, tea in hand, looking at, of all things, a watch. There's no look of despair today, just one of resigned thoughtfulness.

Current Mood: contemplative

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

Mal is perched on a barstool, idly cleaning her sword.

Again.

She's rather bored, in fact, since the excitment of this afternoon's Rather Stoned Sands.

Bother?

guppy_sandhu

Slowly going insane. Please send caffeine.
Guppy is sitting in a booth near the infirmary, large black cat curled up at his feet. In front of him, a copy of the Holby Evening Post, which he is reading.
Sometimes it's nice to know what actually happened before all your patients came in. From the title of the page it appears football violence has been on the menu today.
He sips a black coffee occasionally, glancing around the room.

The doctor is in

shufti

Shufti and baby Jack are curled up on a sofa near the fire. Jack appears to have dozed off, and his mother isn't far off, but she stays awake, aware of her surroundings.
Never truly off guard.
This doesn't mean she'll refuse conversation. On the contrary, she's always happy to have someone to chat to.

danceswithdjali.livejournal.com

The door opens, and a young girl of about sixteen comes hurrying through it, followed immediately by a small white goat.

The goat, unperturbed by the sudden change in surroundings, charges straight ahead, prancing in delight at being somewhere new and exciting.

The girl, for her part, stands blinking in confusion, her eyes not yet adjusted to the sudden light after having come in from darkness.

But soon after, she realizes that her goat is not at her side, and she is somewhere unfamiliar.

"Djali? Come back, you horrid rascal! Where have you lead me? What is this place?"

It was not the Court of Miracles, though it was not entirely unlike some of the taverns within that area of Paris. No, this was someplace new, but perhaps as dangerous for her as the aforementioned Court would have been for most others.

Spotting her goat darting under a nearby table, the girl chases after.

Someone ought to tell her that she's not in Paris any more.

bad-as-he-is.livejournal.com

He looks a bit rough and tumble, of course, as he's been outside of late, but Tom has returned to the bar itself for a time to check the door, or rather the wall. It seems to like remaining a wall as opposed to a door, which while somewhat inconvenient, could not be helped. It wasn't as if you could plead to a wall, after all, and ask it to be something else. For one, he's sure he'd offend it somehow and he'd end up stranded here even longer than before and for another, he'd tried it already and it hadn't worked then.

Thus, somewhat crestfallen, he makes his way to the bar and asks for supper; nothing too fancy as he's only got a few coins left in his purse from Squire Allworthy but something simple and filling. The bit of roast duck and the potatoes go down well with a bit of small beer, while he might end up going back out again, he's content to sit for a bit and watch people. There were strange and wonderful things to see in this place, magic or not, and even the thought that he'd get in trouble for daydreaming about them when he went back home couldn't do anything to dim his delight at some of the more fantastic.

seker-pride.livejournal.com

[OOM: Asar-Suti meets up with Strahan in Strahan's room. They talk for a moment, and Asar-Suti gives to Strahan the four wolves Strahan once used to bring plague to Homana. [Don't worry; they're disease-free this time around.]]

Current Mood: pleased

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

[OOM. The Road to Alexandria, Egypt 1938 - The chase is on. This action-packed conclusion to the adventure features stunts galore, flying carpets, explosions, forbidden chocolate and an unexpected bovine obstacle. Will our intrepid rescuers find Indy alive? Will the Crystal be saved? Will Mel get through the mission without laddering her stockings?]

[Rated PG-13 for violence and language. No cows were hurt in the making of this OOM.]

call-me-shane.livejournal.com

A slim, dark-garbed man with a rolled-up blanket under one arm and a battered black hat in hand slips out of the infimary, standing and walking under his own power. He lets the door close behind him, shifting over to the right until his back is to the solid wall. Thus far, the occupants of this mysterious place do not seem to be overly strange to his eyes, though Doctor Tam's warnings still ring in his ears. It is time, he supposes, to see if he can still judge a man true.

shelley_winters

Look, she's not trying to prove Michael wrong so much as....

Yeah, okay, now she feels self-conscious about staying in her room all the time. So it may or may not be to make a point that Shelley comes downstairs and sits in plain view at the bar with lemonade and a sandwich, head up. Well, it is when she remembers.

misterparker.livejournal.com

Parker likes his beer cold, his company interesting.

He's sitting at a table, trying to run a coin across his knuckles, bored. He'd be up for a conversation or several.

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

Oddly enough, Angela is sitting by herself tonight.

Never fear, though. Her mother is sitting close by, speaking with another person, but always keeping an eye on Angela.

Angela is eating something vegetarian and drinking a Coke. She's looking better than she has been, though still a little pale and worried.

She'd love to talk. She'd love company.

balletrat

*Meg's sitting at a booth, still working on her sets of small ballet slippers; she's giving them about as much attention as she gives most of her activities that aren't dancing.

Which is to say, she's making a very earnest effort at concentrating, and is succeeding to a degree that includes looking up every five or ten minutes in hope of distraction.*

wyrd-fox.livejournal.com

Trying to start up a religion is tiring. Throw in a brothel party and you've got one tired Fox on your hands.

Therefore, there is a red-fox curled up on one of the couches in front of the fireplace.

Does he have the standard, single tail or more? It seems to change every time you look.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

Two left. Three return. The front door closes and they head for the stairs in various states of disarray: the familiar couple of Slayer and ninja flanking an explorer—just as familiar.

Indy looks the worst of the trio, hair matted to his forehead, his face an emaciated mess of bruising, cuts, dried blood and scratty beard growth. His lips are cracked and split in several places, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. What's beneath isn't much better, from what can be seen outside the olive drab military shirt and shredded pants. Dime-sized welts dot his forearms and hands, along with more sinuous scabs and gray-yellow discolorations. The rear of his pants is charred. There is no hat. No gun. No bull whip. Despite all this, he has a bottle of brandy in one hand and he's in one piece. Beyond the weariness, he seems pretty happy about the state of affairs.

It's funny, with the smile Mike is currently sporting the passive onlooker would never know exactly how much pain he is experiencing, or how much he has lost along the way. Why? Because he's gained so much more in the process. Lost shoes, tattered and torn borrowed clothes, a destroyed skate rug, and even a dislocated shoulder are nothing when compared to the fact Indy is home, and that he's home safe.

Mel is supporting most of Indy's weight as she staggers through, disheveled but triumphant. Her hair hangs in sweaty tangled strings from having knives torn out of it, a once white blouse is covered in dust and grime and hanging partially open where buttons have been lost. In traditional Slayer style, her dark gray pencil skirt is ripped to the waistband, revealing Cuban heeled nylon stockings, one of which sports a rather nasty run, and both slightly worse for wear around the feet. She's lost her shoes along the way.

The smile on her face is exhausted despite its sincerity. But it quickly melts away as something changes, noticed only by her. Leaving the archaeologist in Mike's care, with an urgent look telling her lover to take care of him, she suddenly ditches them both, and races towards the lake door, slipping across the floor as the nylon fails to grip properly. Before the door slams behind her, flames can be made out dancing along her skin and hair.

The two men watch her leave, both their brows furrowing in mild concern. Indy's questioning look turns apologetic as his knees buckle and he has to grab Mike's shoulder for support. "Oh boy. Sorry. I..."

Mike winces, but does not cry out. There are a few tense moments where it looks like both men might just fall right over, but eventually ninja skill and sheer force of will keep them standing. "Someone needs a hot tub— stat!" he declares. And with a last look towards the door, he starts to help his room mate upstairs. As they depart, Indy casts a glance back to the thronging bar area, catching a few wondering eyes and offering a reassuring smile in response.

[OOC: Post open for reaction tags.]

hands-unclean.livejournal.com

Happy birthday, William Shakespeare. Your children are out at play.

Macbeth and his Lady are holding court. By that, we mean to say that there are two dead Scots at a table, deep in conversation. They may be plotting something. They may be sharing stories. They may just be saying sweet nothings to each other, inasmuch as murderous usurper types do (and they do).

You should come over and make yourself known. There's even cake, you know.

[ooc: Two muns, one post, tag away! You'll probably get both.]

lucky-coyote.livejournal.com

Johnny sits at a window seat, looking around, quietly. Having procured a vanilla milkshake, he sips at it slowly, watching people come and go, observing chance at work.

It's just as good as Vegas on a summer night.

Current Mood: relaxed
Current Location: comfy window seat

rebelheartalien.livejournal.com

After this, Michael is standing in the middle of the bar, looking faintly shell-shocked and looking in the direction of the stairs.

Come find out why?

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

Between one thing and another- old dreams, new incidents, a few terrifying moments in the world he's known all his life, arguments with people who've never seen it before- Quinn has had a few too many psychic shocks for his liking lately. What he wants is to wake up and find out that all of that mess has just been a dream, but he knows he's not going to get it. Never in his life since he was twelve has the bad stuff ever turned out to be only a dream.

Knowing that doesn't make it any easier to take. Quinn's in a right pissy mood just at the moment, which may explain why he's apparently more interested in staring into the fire than doing anything with the Guinness the Bar gave him.

Bad days happen, it seems, even here.

piecesofmodesty.livejournal.com

Modesty had left the bar the other evening to find her bedroom exactly as she left it - and her bathroom had been on the other side of the door when she opened it again. Shaking her head, she had shrugged, gone to bed as she had originally planned, and was asleep in minutes.

A few days later, having spoken at lengths with Willie Garvin, although she hadn't mentioned Milliways, she is surprised, although not displeased, when his bathroom door opens onto the bar.

She nods, pleased that this time she's more elegantly clad - although there was nothing wrong with her pyjamas and she hadn't been at all embarassed, she will make a better impression in neat blouse and skirt, hair elegantly piled on top of her head, jewellery understated but beautifully chosen.

Making her way to the Bar, she orders a gin and tonic, pays for it in cash, and sits, occasionally sipping her drink, idly looking around the room.

slayer_fray

Note in the office for Alanna.

But Liam can probably take it instead. He'll probably not want the knickers though...

curlys-boy.livejournal.com

[OOM: While on Vacation, Kyle finally found a way back to milliways ]

Kyle walked through the door, looking around and feeling a bit nervous. This was his first time into the bar without Warren. Making his way to a booth, he pulled out a dog biscuit and broke it into parts. Kyle then slowly put each part back into his shirt pocket, where nibbling sounds can be heard.

last-king.livejournal.com

Fact: Keeping oneself occupied helps stave off both boredom and brooding.

Fact: Staving off boredom and brooding are good things, particularly when you're someone who doesn't handle either very well.

This would be why there's a Narnian out in front of the lake, practicing sword techniques.

Conversation is another good way of keeping occupied, and as such, he would likely welcome it.

kitchen_maid

Amy came downstairs this evening for tea, and was rather surprised to be be given a cupcake with a candle on it to go along with it.

Now she's sitting at a table in the middle of the bar, ignoring the tea and watching the pale purple candle slowly burn down closer and closer to the icing.

simple-secret.livejournal.com

Poofytailed orange critter lying on the bar.

Does your life feel enriched yet?

alec-or-alonzo.livejournal.com

Phil is cheerfully ensconced at her usual table near the bar with tea and some embroidery. The embroidery is being sadly neglected in favor of people-watching, however. Poor embroidery.

uncommongardenr.livejournal.com

Dickon was outside earlier, in the garden. He's been thinking of bringing some flowers from home to plant there, and spent some time this afternoon debating which would do well here.

Now he's at a table near the fire with tea and toast, some dirt still lurking under his nails.

dragon_twin

Melou's in the bar, fresh from dinner at home. He's a little disappointed that he's going to miss the after-dinner stories, but Milliways is almost as good. Even if he can't drink.

He grabs some hot choclate from the bar and then settles near the observation swindow, because he hasn't paid much attention to it lately. He's forgotten how crazy it is.

leftthecradle.livejournal.com

[OOM: The Ranger's back at work...and DOOM is nigh at hand.]

hellobugbite

Upstairs--

and down into the Bar, a

( note ) left with instructions to make sure Wes gets it later, and then Hobbie's gone.

dukeorsquire.livejournal.com

Terence. Booth. Ale.

He's not as monosyllabic as the mun. Sometimes.

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

The door is pushed open slowly, and in walks a fifteen year old boy. Ichigo Kurosaki. Shinigami. Soul Reaper. Death God.

And if one looks closely, there may be tears in his eyes, which are shut tight. Or maybe that's just water from the rain and the ground. Who can tell?

There are probably two things, however, that will quickly attract attention.

Firstly, his sword, his massive sword which is normally as long as he is tall, is broken. Not shattered, not chipped, but completely broken. Only about an inch remains of the blade, and the cut is perfectly even, perfectly clean. It's impossible to tell that somebody committed the act, nay, the crime, by hand. Ichigo holds the broken weapon so tightly his knuckles are white around the once mighty tool's hilt.

The second would be the incredible about of blood seeping out of his left shoulder and his chest. A massive cut can be seen in his shoulder, that arm dangling limp at his side. There is not one, but two wounds on his chest, one right in the center, one about a foot down, each a stab wound through and through. Needless to say, he's losing a lot of blood.

But it is not these wounds that have brought about the pained, absolutely anguished expression on his face. It isn't pain, but the sting of failure, that makes him close his eyes tight and hang his head, struggling to keep his shoulders from shaking. He doesn't cry. He never cries. He's done crying. He. Won't. Cry.

He does, however, crumple to the floor. He's hardly aware of where he is, or how he arrived. He doesn't remember standing, or walking, or collapsing once more. All he knows is the utter feeling of failure. He lost. She's going to die. And he was beaten. Beaten down without his opponent even caring. There was no fight. He didn't fight his opponent. He may as well have been standing still. It was over before it began.

One broken young man, lying on the floor before the door, a pool of blood beginning to appear beneath him.

capt_angie

Angie comes in through the front door, yawning. It's been another long and busy day for the AMRS, and it doesn't help that she hasn't been sleeping properly.

She makes her way to the bar and orders a hot chocolate and a full Sunday roast. Then she goes to a booth to eat.

pretty_honoka

Cure White sits at a table, still in her Pretty Cure uniform but wearing a lab coat over it. In front of her is a small collection of different-sized glasses and measuring cups borrowed from the kitchen, most of which are half-full of various colored liquids. (Apparently it has not occurred to her that Bar would probably give her beakers if she asked.) There are a few reactions she's read about that are supposed to give interesting results, and since she's apparently not going anywhere for a while, she's decided to try them out.

She's sure that she remembers the formulas correctly. She's also sure she has correctly kept track of which glasses have what chemicals in them. Therefore she's confident that the blue one over here will not explode or give off dangerous fumes or anything when she pours in the contents of this clear one.

Reasonably confident, anyway.

It's probably safe to approach.

walker-cain.livejournal.com

[[OOM: Tricks and Worries of the Mind]]

Cain sits in a booth and watches the crowd.

He is thinking, and a large mug of beer sits nearby, untouched. A book also sits nearby, similarly untouched. He is worried, a little, and thinking and trying not to think. So he is here, down in the crowd, and yet, more than ever, not feeling a part of that crowd.

And so he watches, and waits, and thinks.

transgenic-max.livejournal.com

Max, looking paler than usual, and a little drawn, is curled up by the fire. She's drinking hot chocolate tonight instead of coffee, and reading. Fiction, for once, rather than one of the apparently infinite number of reference books she seems to usually be poring through. Or rather, she's trying to read. She glances up far too often to really be paying much attention to the book. Also, she hasn't actually turned the page in several minutes.

It seems almost as though she's waiting for something.

A distraction would likely be welcome.

river_meimei

River's been outside for several hours -- with the horses, and in the greenhouse, and maybe climbing a tree or two too. She's a little grimy now, particularly her bare feet, but she doesn't seem troubled by it.

She's curled up in a booth, now, back to the wall and one leg tucked beneath her. Both hands are wrapped around a mug of steaming hot chocolate. It's supplied with quite an inordinate number of marshmallows.

She might have something of a cocoa-and-marshmallow mustache, now.

liz-imbrie-.livejournal.com

[OOM: April 23, on board the U.S.S. Orion, cabin 5-B.]

slayer_fray

Notes are with bar left for the following people:

( Erin, Steph, Rachel and Harth )

Each one comes with a pair of personalised black plastic Mickey Mouse ears and a Disney Doll of the mun's choice.

tibetanmethod

The lake door opens.

Dale Cooper, looking much the worse for wear, comes in. The patch of gauze covering the stitches near his hairline is gone, and he has new scratches on his face and arms. Some are deep. He's got a hitch in his getalong, too, as the saying goes: right leg.

He goes to the bar, and says, flat: "Key, please."

It appears.

And without looking up, looking around, he turns, and goes upstairs.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe's been home, since the incident with John Taylor this morning.

And while there, he got some pretty good news, which would explain his smile as he walks back in.

Anyone for a drink?