milliways_bar | Sep. 15th, 2006

Sep. 15th, 2006

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

Immortal by the lake with Lightsaber.

Need more be said?

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

For Knox, it's January 27, 1990. The day before the Super Bowl. Denver vs. San Francsico, at the Superdome. And like millions of Americans, he's trying to figure out who to bet on. No, scratch that, he knows that the 49ers will win. Joe Montana is just that good. (No offense to John Elway, of course.) He's really trying to figure out how much to bet. Thus the sports sections in front of him.

Say hi to the man.

[ooc: mun heading home earlier - slowtime rules in effect]

gone_byebye

It's morning, which is rarely the best time for Ray, but then again that is why C₈H₁₀N₄O₂ exists. As soon as he's properly awake he'll start in on today's training session with Lenny the PKE Imp, but for now he's intently reading a newspaper article on the enormous addition being made to the International Space Station in advance of Henry Kuttner's visit.

It is just possible that he has yet to figure out he's read the same paragraph three times so far.

fallen-april.livejournal.com

April inna bar.

She's abandoned the writing for the moment, but she's still staring at her notebook rather like it's betrayed her to the pope or something. That's a bad thing.

Please, come distract her.

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

He takes a step in, and strikes his foot against the threshold of the door and stumbles forward, shoving his arms out to catch himself before he falls out face-first with a confused, "What?"

He lands thump and the floor seems terribly familiar. "Milliways, 'lo again." From the tangle of skinny limbs and too much pale hair now sitting indian-style.

valdemars-mage.livejournal.com

[oom: Elspeth meets Petra, and the younger girl teaches her to fly ]

never-mourned.livejournal.com

There is a Witch in the Bar.

A Witch, The Wicked Witch of the West, once called Auntie Witch, and before that Sister Saint Aelphaba, and before that Miss Elphaba, and before that simply Elphie.
(And sometimes Fae, and sometimes mother, and probably any number of unkind things behind her back that she'll never know.)

Whatever you may wish to call her, whatever you think of her, she is in the Bar, and for once -- once in a very great while -- she does not have her nose buried in a book.

She is, however, still shockingly green.

Which may not come as that much of a shock to many in this place.

[ooc: new mun, so if you know her already and I don't know that, let me know.]

asphodelusalbus.livejournal.com

There's a witch quietly reading at a table by the stairs.

She looks cheerful. Also, she looks like the kind of quiet, steady person you'd be absolutely safe in talking to. Kind of motherly, even though she's barely twentyish.

She's too quiet, lately. Her mun's sick of it. You should come talk to her.

i-martha-adams.livejournal.com

Martha Adams enters the bar in jeans covered with flecks of ceder, gloves tucked into her belt, and a face which has obviously recently been washed. Ceder chips hang like fragrant confetti in her coppery hair. She heads toward the bar and, gingerly, asks for a sandwich and a drink.

Coffee and a chicken salad sandwich appear, which means all is well as far as the recent unpleasantness is concerned.

She then finds a seat in one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace and settles down.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

[OOM: Postcards from vacation.]

action-antihero.livejournal.com

It's two days after Tony's funeral that Jack finally comes into the bar and stays, instead of just nipping through to take the quick way back to his cabin. As much as the noise and the bustle of the bar makes him twitch after too long, he needs a drink and going into the bar is faster than going into town. Besides, if he gets in his car now, he might be a little too tempted to keep driving, to get to Toronto and find a different kind of relief in something stronger than alcohol.

Besides, he knows he'll have to face the music at home soon; explain everything--or what he can--to the government. Spending time in here will buy him time out there.

Anyway, Jack's sitting at the bar, sipping his drink and trying to think about what he's going to do when he's under the microscope again; or rather, trying to think about that instead of the funeral.

[ooc: Mun has a cold so may have to put the laptop down for a bit at some point, but slowtime is love.

ETA: having a lie-down, back in a while; feel free to tag and I'll reply when I get back.]

lvpd_sidle

The door opens and Sara comes in, dropping two postcards on Bar's surface.

"Mind giving these to Angel and Guppy?"

They vanish.

"Thanks."

And Sara goes back out the door.

slightlymonkish.livejournal.com

Monk.

In bar.

Wandering about.

Touching things.

(Not like that!)

Bother?

[ooc: Curse you, writer's block!]

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive? back again. Yep, now that he's found the place again he's not going to leave it be for a while. Of course, time back home seems to jump forward while time here stays more or less the same.

As far as he knows? It's still mid-August, summer's just ending. Maybe once his time catches up to bar time it'll stay the same, but who knows?

In any case, gothboy at a table, working on sketches and sipping at something fizzy and almost black-purple. The glass has blinky lights in the bottom. Multi-colored ones. Apparently Bar decided he needed more amusement. Or more color. Or both.

Feel free to interrupt.

ucav-tinman.livejournal.com

He was singing when he came in with a duffel bag hanging from two fingers, bouncing lightly against his back with every step he took. The song? Old Fashioned Love Song. The Paul Williams version. Kazoos and all. Because it was a happy song, and Eddie was happy.

And he flopped onto a barstool with all the grace of a blue-footed booby without managing to fall off. "Lemonade, please, Bar, and this is for you." Eddie placed a very pretty glass vase on her surface, decorated with a glass rose, all about two inches tall. "It isn't much, but perpetual flowers are always pretty."

And then, he had his DS in hand. He had to level his Vibrava, because he wanted a Flygon.

What? They're pretty!

nita_callahan

You know how things sometimes just pile up?

Well.

First Nita's last weekend before school ended with a trip to Louisiana to try and rescue people trapped by Hurricane Katrina, and do it discreetly. And then school started. And then she had to split her time between Algebra II homework and rescuing people in the South.

And then Monday was September 11th and the school had a moment of silence, and then she woke up this morning with cramps, and then they were out of tea, and overall Nita is already stressed, and then she comes to Milliways and sits down at the bar and gets a note, followed, hastily and sympathetically, by a cup of tea.

She reads the note.

She carefully headbars.

As an afterthought, Bar provides chocolate.

not-broomboy.livejournal.com

He's sitting alone, at the bar, sipping on tea. Perhaps he should have something a little harder after the day's events, but anything harder would just make things worse and he didn't need them worse... especially as they were starting to be a little bit better.

He's nibbling on toast, mostly to do something because the smoke of a cigarette just won't cut it right now. He doesn't taste it, really, but he doesn't have to.

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

She's drying her hair with a towel as she comes in the door, so she can't really see what's around her. She's wearing a knee length sleeveless wetsuit, black with a yellow stripe up the side, and she's barefoot.

She has just noticed that it's a lot cooler than on the beach, and there is also no carpeting on the beach. She stops drying her hair and looks up.

"What, again? This is so weird."

young_tmriddle

Tom and Ingress walk out of the House of Arch together.

She'll soon be slurping a milkshake, and he'll soon be sipping a scotch. It's a typical evening at Milliways.

owendavies.livejournal.com

Last Saturday, Owen Davies drove Bran to the Machynlleth train station. Since then he has been working very hard indeed on the farm, and volunteering more than usual at chapel. David and Jen Evans had him to dinner three times, and John Rowlands has been a great support, and there has been plenty of work to do.

At night, though, when Owen comes home, leading Lluchddu into the house, the little cottage is far too still.

If anything, Owen is relieved when he finds Milliways at the other side of his bedroom door.

the_antiangst

Angel's in the bar, with the remains of some pasta and a sewing project.
...Oh, and a postcard that he got with dinner. It sounds like Mark and Sara are enjoying themselves, which is a definite plus.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy has got quite a long way with the knitting, enough so that he now has the majority of it tucked down the side of his chair. There was a brief moment of confusion last night when he realised he'd somehow mislaid ten stitches, but he got it more or less sorted out.

If the person for whom the gift is intended comes along, the needles will be getting shoved somewhere with much haste. He's up for conversation though, and seems relaxed today, even if he is concentrating on the task in hand.

The doctor is in

Come bother him.

shufti

In one corner of the bar, it's nap time.

Well Shufti is asleep anyway. Jack is wide awake, sitting quite contentedly on her knee. He's entertaining himself by taking baby wipes out of her pocket, then shredding them with a look of fascination.

blue_ajah

There is only so long that a person can work on any one thing -- or any of several things -- before becoming restless. This holds true even if one is Aes Sedai. Moiraine merely hides it better than most, but idleness has never been something she enjoys, and therefore she chooses to work in the bar this evening.

I must have patience, she tells herself as she glides downstairs into the room, places an order for tea and settles at a spacious booth with several sheets of paper, a pen, and her journals -- all of them. She begins to flip back and forth between them, cross-checking references and occasionally making a cryptic note on the paper.

I fear that there is so little time left... what under the Light is he planning?

Moiraine sighs, and absently presses a couple of fingers to her temple, rubbing away a headache.

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

Atton's sprawled in a booth, apparently asleep, but nonetheless humming, very loudly, and very irritatingly. Most people can't shout that loud, let alone hum. He'll probably get a sore throat.

Botherable, as he isn't really asleep.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

The door swings open, briefly revealing a London video store. It's raining in London. Either the rain caught Wells by surprise, or he doesn't care about questions like 'wet' and 'dry', but really, he looks entirely too disgruntled for it to be the latter. He stalks over to the Bar (he still doesn't trust those fucking rats) and takes his whisky to a nice warm spot by the fire. It's been a long couple of days, even the quiet parts, and he really needs to let the current batch of knotty thoughts undo themselves.

creator_raven

Somewhere in the bar, probably in that booth in the corner, there is a plate of cookies.

Said plate is not attached to Raven's hand, but it might as well be, given how fast he's eating the cookies on it.

It's fortunate he has no biology, or he would be remarkably unwell tonight.

As it is, quite likely he will soon be signaling a waitrat for more cookies.

Also milk.

Again.

gonna_live

Kaylee looks a lot more cheerful than what passes for usual these days.

There's a book in her hand -- Gilgamesh, from Andronicus Crowley -- and a glass of lemonade that maybe isn't all that cold, but that's all right. She's in a chair by the darkened fireplace, and she's...really not paying all that much attention to the book.

Last night? Very, very good.

There's a ship on the lake, you see.

flybywash

[OOM, late tonight:

A 'verse-wide legend says that beginning today, the gates of Hell will open to allow the dead to walk free.

And every gate swings both ways.]

alwaysroomforhope

It is the ninth of September, for the purposes of this post. See, I'm using past tense an' everyfink. Er. *shifty*

When Steph drifted downstairs for breakfast, she was presented with a note. It was short and concise, and she read it over twice before crumpling it up into a little ball and throwing it at the Door.

It bounced - rather unfairly, Steph felt - and came back to rest by her feet. She scowled at it, bent down to pick it up, and scribbled on the back of it:

Idiot.

- and then took her breakfast, a mug of coffee, and her suddenly fiercely grumpy expression back upstairs to sulk.

Great. Typical. Wonderful. Stupid Roshaun.

... Now what was she supposed to do with all that pink paint?

kitchen_maid

Amy, with her shoes off, is curled up on the couch. (The couch is, actually, rather hidden under the amount of fabric in her skirts. But it's there.)

She has hot chocolate, and is reading a book, but she'd welcome company.

rigthegames.livejournal.com

Sands is lurking in a convenient shadow, looking twitchier than normal, and that’s saying something. If looks could kill, his table would be very, very dead.

Approaching him with caution might be wise.

… poking him with a stick would be completely unwise, but probably very funny.

[ooc: my brain has melted, so I'm off to bed! Will pick things up in the morning.]

ancient-servant.livejournal.com

The light from the exploding Armageddon clock had been too much even for an ancient vampire. Khayman had had to go and have a little lie-down.

After a short nap of, oh, just a little while, was it two weeks? Three? He'd gone to Tokyo and had a little chat with Claudia, and got a feather from Loki.

And now he returned to the bar, where he lurked in a dark corner just as he liked to. He hoped there would be no more Armageddon devices any time soon.

k_in_black

Milliways has several men in black. This one happens to be capitalized.

He is not, however, trademarked. Well, actually, he might be. But if he is, said mark is safely hidden somewhere you're not ever likely to see.

At the moment, he's at the bar, working on a bourbon and a mission report in equal measures.

Feel free to interrupt. And don't worry about offending him. If it happens, he'll make sure you don't remember it.