milliways_bar | Jul. 19th, 2006

Jul. 19th, 2006

*As often is the case, there is an Yrael stretched out on the Bar. Tonight, he has a book and a cup of tea. The book is about reading tea leaves, but he seems to be having difficulty. The drawings of tealeaves to be read in the book look nothing like the tealeaves in his cup. It is slightly vexing.*

*Oh, and it may be useful to note that he is, in fact, in human shape tonight.*

*No one said stretching out along Bar should be confined to when one is catshaped.*

lightningbaron6.livejournal.com

[OOM: Zechs abuses Preventer HQ's athletic equipment, Heero still hasn't learned appropriate methods of comforting a distraught coworker, and missions that can only end in tears are assigned.

The first of multiple parts.]

action-antihero.livejournal.com

[OOM: Outside the bar, Jack writes another letter to Chris Chappelle.]

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

There is thoughtful Shinigami in the bar, seated at a booth so that he's out of the way. He's not only in deep thought, but he seems oddly somber as well. It's still bothering him, the silence inside. There's something inside of him, but since he tried to remove it weeks ago, it's been too silent. It hasn't tried to escape, hasn't tried to hurt anybody, hasn't made a peep.

And it worries him. Feel free to distract him, because he could use it.

inquisitivehero

[OOM: After Martin of Amber and Mary-Anne Bell's Encounter, Martin's re-entry and confession, and Hank McCoy's search, Mary-Anne ends up in the Infirmary, where Hank performs emergency surgery and strains the advanced technology of the Infirmary and his own skills to the maximum. In the end, after hours of work, Mary-Anne, under heavy medication, is released. Warnings for blood, gore, violence, and other such things.]

stbethadettes

(OOM: It's been a long month so far. But even monotony can be broken.)

puckishly.livejournal.com

[OOM: The funny thing about what goes around is that, eventually, it comes around.

(Millitimed to ... back when the moon was waxing.)

As Oberon might say: "Karma's a bitch."

As Puck might conceivably reply: "So's YOUR MOM."

But in actual fact, the reality is closer to: Puck and Oberon meet by moonlight. To Puck's surprise, Oberon seems to know more about a certain deal with the Devil than anyone else.

No flying kittens were harmed in the making of this OOM.]

aj_crawley

The bar's as busy as it ever is on a Tuesday night - which is to say, not quite so busy as the weekend, when the patrons come out of the woodwork, but crowded enough nonetheless. Certainly crowded enough for nobody to take notice when the door swings open on nothing more exotic than a dim London alleyway, nor for them to pay any attention to the dark head that slinks in and makes its way, so very unobtrusively, towards the bar.

He's moving a little stiffly, if you know him, if you are of a mind to see him - ungraceful, like coathangers on puppet-strings (he bangs into a chair or two as he walks; nobody's watching). And he looks quite a bit browner than usual. Though that's perhaps to be expected, spending time where he does.

He's not staying - he just has things to do, and now, a breather in which to do them. A bottle of Atlantean from the bar, full, no glass; that's the first. And a booth a ways towards the back, head against the wall and legs along the seat as he scans the busy room; this is the second.

blue-star-badge.livejournal.com

Adric was outside, rather enjoying the warmer weather. He'd decided to get a bit of target practice in before going to collect dishes, using marks he'd carved onto a fallen log and using the throwing knives he usually kept hidden up his sleeves, just in case. Spoon had grown tired of this and was amusing himself nearby by collecting leaves and twigs and small pebbles.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

"Adam, how the hell hard can it be to get a camel in the damn desert? Yes, I know that it's Santa Fe and not Africa, but rent one from a zoo or something. Listen, I'm tired, I was in a dungeon two days ago, and I had to kill a gazebo in a cage. Don't cross me. I'm really really grouchy, and... yes, I'm going to a bar. Damnit, Adam. You're going to turn me into an alcoholic. Just get my evil son of a bitch camel, and we'll be fine." Mark strides into the bar, slamming his phone down on the table, and headtabelling himself. Whoops. Stressed filmmaker alert.

ieatcorkscrews.livejournal.com

Anoia had the kitchen gadget encyclopedia out again and was perched at the far end of the bar, leafing through it occasionally and then rooting around in her apron pocket to come up with something that didn't look remotely like anything on the page.

dragon_twin

[OOM: In Wales, dinner goes on as normal. Warnings for teenage schmoop near the end before a FTB.]

b-hawkins.livejournal.com

Ben moved into the bar proper from the out-of-doors, shoving his lighter back into his overalls' pocket as he moved. He sat down at a not-too-obvious but not-too-shady booth and commenced people-watching.

Oh, he's been about, surely you've just missed him. Company is more than welcome.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe comes in, in work clothes rather than his old uniform and brushing dust off his hands, and heads for the Bar for a refreshing drink.

virii-twins.livejournal.com

The twins, still vibrantly green, were playing mancala at one of the smaller tables, once again glasses-less, scanning the bar now and then over each other's shoulders, sure, they're imposing, but they're still friendly.

not-de-la-vega.livejournal.com

Joaquin de la Vega was squirreled away in a booth, cleaning and sharpening his knives, the remains of a meal on the table and a fresh bandage starkly white against his upper arm. His mother, it seemed, had bested him in a duel once again. He seemed surprisingly cheerful about this fact.

female-were.livejournal.com

Raina's sitting in a booth again.

The catalogs are gone, replaced with plates of food. Eggs, sausage, bacon, waffles, fruit, any thing that's considered a normal American breakfast food can probably be found on this table right here. Gotta love the lycanthrope appetite.

No, you can't have the food. Yes, you can talk to the girl that is devouring the food.
Small Cambodian armies never ate this much!

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

Ghost is at a booth, flung out across one side of the bench. Humming the simple notes to "Three Blind Mice." His head is tipped back and his eyes are crossed so that he might he contemplating the end of his nose, or wondering how the world looks when it's sdrawkcab tsomla with a little frown of concentration.

http://users.livejournal.com/_estsanatlehi_/

Ana, still an infant, was curled up in front of the fire, using Duck as a pillow, thumb securely in her mouth, just watching the flames.
Duck was being quite tolerant of his mother's eccentricities and had nodded off.

jedi-exile.livejournal.com

[oom: when dead ships hit atmosphere, they crash. this is what the Exile and her guide find. And the stupid gizka.]

giftedthom.livejournal.com

[OOM: Alanna and Thom talk. At ye last!]

randomsbastard.livejournal.com

Martin walks into the bar covered in blood. This is not an unusual circumstance.

He isn't moving like he's injured. This ups the amount of weird in his appearance.

He then orders a bottle of scotch, lights a cigarette, and sits down to drink it, in no hurry. Eventually he'll need to find Security.

(Violence warnings apply to the link.)

gone_byebye

[OOM: Back in his world, Ray makes some arrangements. The Beam generator setup he has in mind needs testing, and Eddie hasn't got time to wait. Millitimed to the eighteenth.]

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

Though he is quite frequently in the bar, today Archie actually has an entrance post! Hurrah!

If you're one for details, he's wearing jeans, (which he's become quite fond of) and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. It'a a decidedly casual look for him. He also looks a bit tired, but on the whole cheerful. After all, why shouldn't he be?

Come talk to him, he's friendly!

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells has been around the past few days- you just haven't seen him. Smelled him, maybe, if you have one of those noses. Otherwise, you probably haven't seen him. When he's been out and about, he's been keeping an eye on a certain scarred black wolf, or else looking for someone of the magical or godly persuasion who'd have certain powers. When he hasn't... well, he's got an appointment at the Ministry of Defence coming up, though the Ministry doesn't know it yet. He's been practising for that. People listen to blackmail threats more closely when they come in an utterly civilised accent.

All of this is just to say that he's here, now, in the bar with lunch and beer and an extra seat at his table. And space under it.

the_lioness

[OOM: Some questions shouldn't be asked. Still thinking about Lucy, Alanna almost asks Adam for a favor he would have to refuse.]

lvpd_sidle

Two CSIs are talking quietly together.

"...too soon to make such a decision, Sara," Gil says quietly.

Sara nods slowly, her eyes on her folded hands.

Interruptions wouldn't be turned away.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

Mark leaves a note with Bar, before he opens the door, and leaves back to New York.

( For Angel )

doc-venkman.livejournal.com

Venkman had a hard time sleeping with everything going on. Yet there was a snoozing man on one of the couches with his baby daughter just waking up. She lifted her head slightly, and started to fuss some. He drowsily opened his eyes to peer at her. He sat up slightly, making sure she was still comfortable, and secure.

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

Atton's sitting at a booth, possibly asleep. Or possibly not. Sometimes, it's difficult to tell. He's sprawled in the booth, eyes closed, datapad in one hand, the other arm wrapped around a pillow, looking remarkably sweet and innocent. There's a bowl of sweets on the table, which would be perfect for stealing. If he's actually asleep, that is.

Come find out?

hero-jack.livejournal.com

There is a man in the hatch.

A man that is supposedly an Other.

And Jack needs a drink.

Hence Bar. With beer.

bloody-awful.livejournal.com

The front door slams open and John stumbles through, clutching his ribs. He looks like he's been kicked up and down the high street -- possibly because that is exactly what has happened. His clothes are trashed and he smells like piss, and there's blood everywhere.

John leans against the wall, and slumps down to squat on the floor, still hugging himself tightly. He has two black eyes and blood running from his broken nose.

Is there a doctor in the Bar?

[OOC: feel free to tag!]

hands-unclean.livejournal.com

Do forgive the Lady for being absent, but she's had a Macbeth to occupy her, and some creatures are more distracting than perhaps warranted. Still, one does feel something for them, something as fierce as the rest of her.

She may easily pretend the time has been short. After all, she has much of the stuff ahead of her, being dead. And so the stroll through the Bar toward a table is leisurely, and she is glad to be stopped on the way.

She has a smile. That rarely means anything good. Try your luck?

mogget_cat

*As the narration is sure you know, it is quite easy to fall asleep when one is comfortable and has been reading a book that hasn't been interesting enough to keep one awake.*

*As illustration, take the example set before you. A not'cat, a Bright Shiner, stretched out along Bar, his head resting on his folded arms. Before him is set a stone-cold cup of tea which has been left as a bookmark for a half-open book about reading tealeaves.*

*In his defense, no one ever said it was against the rules for him to lounge on Bar while in human-shape.*

balletrat

*Meg's sitting in a booth, and she's back to reading her history book - though from the looks of it, she hasn't got much further to go.

She has a cup of coffee, but she's only taking the occasional absent sip; and as for the croissant in front of her, only one edge has so far been nibbled away.*

gone_byebye

[OOM: There is a test, and there is what comes after.]

The door opens.

"I hate nature! It's hot and smelly and half the inhabitants are mutant freak giant things and it itches and it's filled with things that bite you or growl at you or ooze spit and mucus on you! If I wanted that, I'd go to freaking work!!"

Oh, dear. Ray doesn't seem to have enjoyed his trip to Nevada very much.

tragic_mask

Melpomene sits at the bar, watching the light flicker off the warm surface of her drink and waiting for--

-- something. It seems like too mundane an evening to go by without anything happening, like space rangers bursting in through the glowing door with one arm dangling and blood everywhere. This is Milliways, after all.

... After a while, there's the sound of a muse's fingernails tapping on wood.

not_that_spike

( OOM: some nights are only good for drinking )

Walking's still a struggle and his limp is evident; that left leg is nowhere near as strong as it was before. His breathing's also still pretty labored. That happens with badly broken ribs, especially where it's so easy for them to help puncture a perfectly good lung. So he's cautious as he tries the doors once, twice, a third time: it's a ritual by now and he can't not do it.

But the door's spectacularly unobliging -- he knew it would be -- so he heads to the bar because fuck it, there's no damn reason not to drink. He can't think of a single one. Sitting heavily, he slumps over the bar and asks for a glass of tequila on the rocks. It isn't like his body needs it, but too fucking bad. Bounty hunter's code: when all else fails, drink.

Heavily.

deserved_it

[OOM: Millitimed to July 8. Ish. Lucy fills in Eustace on her recent change in life status.]

oldromansaint.livejournal.com

Santino moved into the bar, those same practiced, smooth dancer's steps that just weren't the usual thoroughfare for the regular mortal.

He moved through the crowd easily, seated himself at an open table. Jacketed, long-haired, bookless. The same dark-eyed Italian who walked into Millways those so many times before.

Company would be more than welcome.

[OOC: This time in the right comm! Also, mun must beg slowtime on threads until he is awake again. I'll catch up then, promise!]

wizard_dresden

I'm spending some time, sitting in a booth of the bar, trying to play this guitar that I got from Bar. Hand therapy again. Butters says it's good for my dexterity.

We'll see.

kitchen_maid

It's been a little while since Amy's been in the bar, at least for Amy. But now February is drawing to a close, in Phantasmorania, and most of the plans and details for the wedding have been finalized, much to her relief. All that's left to do now is keep her mother from changing everything again.

Oh, and manage to memorize Perry's myriad of names in the proper order. Which is probaby why, as she comes into the bar tonight, she's muttering under her breath, "Algernon Peregrine Lysander Humph--no, Humphrey then Lysander Ferdinan--oh, bother, I've skipped Archibald again."

Distraction would be lovely.

song_tra_bong

Mary Anne's down in the bar tonight, seated on one of the couches. Two things are out of the ordinary in this picture. One, she's got a cast on her left hand. Two, she's drinking water; alcohol doesn't mix well with her pain meds.

She doesn't look adverse to company, but good luck if you expect full details of what happened last night.

realmrsreynolds

Sallie Reynolds, ~~using limited edition ABSOLUTELY OOC Reaverized icon from Millicon~~ meanders into bar wearing her apron, with a datapad and a metal spatula.

"Oh, this is ridiculous -- " she returns to the door, exiting again and returning without her previous accoutrements.

"That's better." And Sallie finds a comfortable chair by the fireplace.

seker-pride.livejournal.com

There's a Strahan.

Sitting at a table with a cup of honey brew steaming in front of him that's being largely ignored.

Not unlike the wolves that lie in various spots underneath said table, or the hawk perched on another chair nearby.

His hands are steepled together while his head nods forward, making it look as though he's either in prayer or meditation, though given it's Strahan, it just might be both.

We're sure he's up for some chatting though.

Really.

Current Mood: apathetic

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

This is an Ace.

Aces are rare, colorfully decorated creatures, that are naturally inquisitive about... well. Everything.

This doesn't at all explain why Ace is experimenting with a tiny blow torch.

She does seem rather happy though. Figures.

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

Draco was sitting in a booth toward the back again, eyeing the contents of a vial of potion dubiously. It had something of an opal, many colored shimmery quality about it. But it was very dark, so it seemed more like the pearlscent sheen of oil.

Very distractable though.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Dinner's long since gone, but Wells is still in the Bar. He's looking for people this time, and maybe a wolf. Depends on who he can find first, really.

destruction1_0

There are things known in the common parlance as earworms.

Currently Destruction is sitting at a table and whistling 'When You Wish Upon A Star'.

Yep.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

[The Night Before the Event]

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

Ichigo is at the bar tonight, sipping a milkshake with a bored expression on his face.

...and that's all.

What? This mun is allowed at least ONE minimalist post now and then!

bev-marsh.livejournal.com

Beverly's settled cross-legged on a corner of one of the couches tonight, a half-drunk milkshake on a table nearby and Treasure Island propped open in her lap.

She seems fairly engrossed in her reading, but likely wouldn't mind interruption.

iambetadraconis

[OOM: Rabastan confesses his secrets to a mirror while Mulciber listens in...]

"Well, I was going to go back tomorrow, but it seems as though the bar had other ideas..," he says as he looks about at the familiar surroundings. The incident with the mouse seems to have been forgotten as Rabastan makes his way over to the bar for a drink.

"Apricot brandy, please?"

It's given, he pays for it with a knut, and turns around, relieved to have returned to Milliways without incident...

Current Mood: happy

just-a-soldier.livejournal.com

The door swung open violently. Thudding against the wall it left a dirty mark. Running fast, practically a dark blur if you weren't looking carefully, came a girl. Her hair was tied up in a tight braid and she didn't realise where she was until she fell over a stool, sprawling to the ground. Her hands were already skinned, obviously she'd fallen recently, on a harder surface. A string of curse words you wouldn't expect to hear from a girl only eight cycles old quickly followed, muffled by the flooring beneath her.

[OOC: For bandwagon fun. Guys if you are seeing this and going 'noooo I missed it.' Tag away anyway and I'll pick up :D]

river_meimei

River's sitting on the back of a booth -- on the back, literally, with her forearms resting on her knees and her back against the wall. There's a rafter near her head, a few feet up. She's wearing black boots, a yellow sundress, and the long brown coat Roland gave her. Several of its pockets, as usual, bulge slightly with odds and ends.

She's watching the room.