milliways_bar | Jan. 10th, 2007

Jan. 10th, 2007

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

She pushes the door open to Milliways Bar, cheerfully. Her visit the previous night is barely in mind, anymore. It was very uneventful. Today, she's in a better mood, though freezing. Light drifts of white snow float on a breeze into the bar from the open door as she shuts it closed. She takes off her cap, shakes her hair out, stomps her feet. It was very cold out there, and it is very warm in here -- thankfully.

A seat by the fireplace will hasten that process up a little. If only there's a seat to be found... (she knows how coveted those comfy chairs and sofas are...)

Hark! A seat, and she claims it immediately as hers.

Anyone else is going to have to duke it out over this warm and plush comfortable spot. By the fireplace.

...Where it is still warm.

Her coat and sweaters and scarf go flying off next.

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

She was ready to go and seek humans. She was. She was ready to seek other humans.

Not quite this fast, not nearly this many. Golden eyes flinch from the light, pale limbs cringe from the noise, and only the questioning noise from the long-legged, long-furred hound combined with the sight of the land outside the door causes her to move.

She flees from the front door and out the back without ever testing the wall behind her, or managing to acknowledge anyone she may have run over in her wild flight.

wolfskincoat.livejournal.com

Not every world in the mulitverse is having an abnormally mild winter. In some worlds the cold still bites and the snow still falls.

Not that one would imagine Miss Riding Hood to mind that much, as her outfit today is not only exceedingly stylish, but it appears quite warm. Her trademark gray coat is set off nicely by the black trousers and red felt sweater beneath it, and her hair is casually mussed in a way that prevents her natural red rabbit skin hat (it matches her beloved hunting gloves) from leaving an unsightly mess when she removes it on enterring.

Smiling faintly, our young huntress glances around the bar in satisfaction as she approaches the bar and orders a spiced appletini.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

His plan was NOT to delay heading home. He wanted to make his decision fast. But with one thing and another, he got distracted. Or rather - and he knew this to be the case - he let himself get distracted. Not that Rapunzel was a mere distraction. Or that getting advice from trusted friends was a bad idea. But when you discover that that marvel of future technology, the laptop computer, can play that other marvel of future technology, the DVD, and that the Bar can give you pretty much any film ever made...well, it's hard not to seek delay in the form of, say, The Untouchables, which he missed in the theater. (Thankfully, he hasn't discovered that TV shows will also be available on DVD. Otherwise, he might spend the next week watching The Avengers.)

But after the movie is done, he IS going to head home. No more delays. Though disruptions are permitted.

[ooc: slowtime for work possible]

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Some days are better than others, and this has not really been one of the better ones for Wells. The girls haven't been too bad, but a few of the younger ones got sufficiently snotty that he had to whip out his Arabic vocabulary and start using the words for which English has no direct translation. The weather's been mucky too, rather than properly cold or snowy. That doesn't sit well with either his childhood memories or the instincts of a creature that would prefer to live in the woods and hunt. And to top it all off, a Scots rambler who wound up wandering across his and Annie's property in Yorkshire started asking her questions about the place and wouldn't shut the fuck up.

As was said, not one of the better days, even if it wasn't particularly bad.

He's thinking he needs to do something more constructive today than just beat on the heavy bag until the tree suffers for it again. When he gets his lunch from the Bar, it comes with a book on blacksmithing that he hasn't had the chance to read yet.

Nobody ever said the furniture around here was subtle.

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

Belar is seriously considering taking up the study of Earth's meteorology next chance he gets. It is way too warm in Kelowna for his liking just now, and as much as he'd love to give the whole Okanagan Valley the snow they deserve, he'd really rather not drown the rest of the continent as a result. The climate back home? He knows how to manipulate that. Earth? Little bit more complicated.

It's going to have to wait, though. It's sign time!

ANSWERING PRAYERS
BACK IN 15 MINUTES

ASK ME ABOUT SKIING, SNOWBOARDING, AND OTHER WINTER SPORT LESSONS

lvpd_sidle

"----you have the tendency to speak in incomprehensible ways, but that doesn't mean you're River Tam."

Hodges' reply goes unheard, much to Sara's relief. Coffee and a salad are quickly acquired before she finds a spot near the fireplace.

heads-you-live.livejournal.com

Domino had eventually gone home, and time had once again skipped forward while she was there, leading her through an emotional attachment of the kind she vowed never to have, an explosion, and a miracle.

That said, it was a slightly older, and far wiser, bottle-blonde bounty hunter that entered the bar, blinking when she realized it wasn't where she'd been going, very nearly dropping the fishbowl in her hand with surprise.

Then she smiled, moving quietly to a booth and setting the bowl down carefully.

(she's quite botherable, but the mun is at work, so replies may be patchy to nonexistant.)

likesthecoat

At 24 years old, Ianto Jones thought he had the perfect life.

He had a good job, a girlfriend, a decent flat. He wore a suit and tie to work every day and all his furniture matched.

He was happy.

Then about two months after the sphere showed up and they started the ghost shifts, a blue police telephone box appeared in a Torchwood warehouse and the ghosts were Cybermen and the sphere was full of Daleks and all hell broke loose.

Ianto's suit is torn and stained with someone else's (her) blood and he smells of smoke and death and fear. His eyes aren't focusing but he doesn't much care where he is at the moment, as long as he can get something to eat.

Strange, isn't it, that Ianto's first visit to the end of the Universe should be from the end of his world.

mendanddefend_archive

There's a dark-skinned, dreadlocked man walking through the bar. His movements are slow; he seems to be in a daze.

Some of the other patrons might recognize him. Then again, they might not.

After all, he was rather more... blue the last time they saw him.

runmakitarun.livejournal.com

Makita is sitting at a table. Without her coat. The lack of the oversized garment makes her seem somehow smaller. It's much easier to tell that she spent much of her life without enough food.

On the table in front of her lies an impressive pile of weapons. Grenades, a number of pistols, a stack of magazines. And her room key. She's looking at them, trying to figure out how she's going to carry them all around now.

always-win.livejournal.com

Snow White isn't usually much of a one for the hands-on approach to management. That's what she pays managers and accountants for. But when she suspects that someone has been cooking the books, she doesn't leave anything to chance. She goes through the paperwork herself.

And seeing as no time passes in Milliways, she's taking advantage of the situation, and going through the paperwork ensconced in a booth. Not one of the dark and shadowy booths, but a well lit one. She has a laptop in front of her, although at the moment she's ignoring it in favour of a very, very fat and untidy A4 lever-arch file. There are several more files piled on the desk.

Her suit jacket has been dumped in the bench beside her, she has ink smudges on her fingers, and she's run her hands through her hair so many times it's an uncharacteristic mess - although of course on her even tousled messy hair looks intentional. She has one knee tucked up under her, Versace ankle boots kicked carelessly to the floor. She's staring at a page, frowning, and biting the knuckle of her thumb.

In short she looks, for once, almost normal.

countofserenno.livejournal.com

( Bonzo and Dooku have a...difference of opinion. )

And security is incoming. We hope.

abar-starclog.livejournal.com

Carl considered checking out the stuff outside, but the view out that window is... very white. For a California native, that much snow takes a little preparation.
So instead, he's at a table with his notebook again. The major roadblock on the stuff for Suzi is out of the way now, he's got a few thoughts for the next job back home, and he's trying to write down some things about the bar - but not a whole lot, in case Mother picks the thing up again.
Despite all the writing, he wouldn't turn down company.

iambetadraconis

Normally a man now known for a healthy appetite Rabastan seems to have lost a fair bit of it as he pokes his chicken caesar about his bowl, thinking.

About his brother and about Draco.

His nephew because Draco seemed to be out of sorts the night he met him.

His brother because, although Asar-Suti had agreed to consider Rabastan's plans for Rodolphus, there was always the chance that the Dark God would back out, and give no good reason for doing so other than because he was a god and gods can change their minds whenever they please. Divine priviledges and all that rot.

Just eat the caesar salad Rabastan; it does you no good to worry so much...

Current Mood: worried
Current Music: "Broken Revisited" - Tears for Fears

shufti

In one corner of the bar is Shufti, with Jack on her knee, showing him some pictures.

"And on the big day, I'll wear a long white dress, and you and Dada will have suits I expect. And then we walk down the middle of the guests and say some special words in front of everyone. And Dada will say some extra words to say that he'll look after you too."

Jack points at the picture. Shufti smiles. "That's a cake. Can you say cake?"

"Tay" Jack replies, then points at something else. "Baa?"

"That's a sheep love, we won't be having one of those. I don't think."

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

She wears Makita's coat and Xas' scarf over her tunic. She and Ash tried the rabbits, they were as foul as Mouse had claimed. They found a cave, although strange and where no cave should be, and it will be easy to turn into a hovel of sorts.

Now they gather firewood, the strange moon white woman and the lovely moon white dog.

always-a-liar.livejournal.com

Out of Milliways:

Twenty-Second: Aches

Twenty-Third: A Bodily Flame

Twenty-Four: Suggestions

Twenty-Five: Matters of Humor

Twenty-Six: Haunted

[OOC: Warning for lots of the crazy, mild adult content, foul language, and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. YA RLY.]

Current Location: Tackleford, England

hearthethoughts.livejournal.com

Matt's got a bad headache tonight. One that he's trying to counteract with the maximum dosage of tylenol that a person can take in one sitting.

Other then that, he's trying to be cheerful, because Bar's lent him a movie player that blocks the door nicely, and guess what? She's got Family Guy.

So one cop, in complete and utter denial, nursing a headache not caused by the voices in the bar-laughing softly at the TV. Every once in a while he'll sort of laugh louder.

If you want to see something really funny, sneak up behind him. Matt will not admit openly that he watches cartoons.

petraarkanian.livejournal.com

Once upon a time it was normal for this Armenian girl to be seen frowning and on the edge of violence. Lately though, things have been wonderful. She sits before the fire with a lightly alcholoic drink on a side table, and feet proped up on another chair. Feel free to ignore, or tell her to move her feet, maybe she'll even buy you a drink if you ask correctly.

Her black and white cat moves about the room, never straying too far but inspecing everything around him.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

Suzi has a basket of knitting and a basket of puppy. The puppy's basket is going squeak! as the puppy asserts her dominance over a toy shaped like a steak.

The knitting fails to make any sort of noise at all, although Suzi's left leg says jingle-jingle-jingle every thirty seconds. Her hands are writing up (in ~~Genlang~~ English, not Braille) a list.

It isn't very long, but may be somewhat impressive. It has things like genetic disorder and potential for early, traumatizing death written on it.

blueeyedjohnny.livejournal.com

Johnny is sitting at the bar, with bits of flour still dusting the back of his hair. Damn stuff went sticky as soon as he tried to wash it out.

Currently, he's flicking through the book Bar gave him on baby care, wondering if perhaps she was doing it for a reason. He's still avoiding the birth pages though, even if he is taking quite an interest in breast feeding.

"They need feeding how often? Where the hell do they put it all?"

nita_callahan

[Note for Duo, Millitimed to the weekend.]

unwraith.livejournal.com

Michael's at a table, his computer on the top, focused on what look like a set of chemical formulae. Every so often, he'll pause, or seem to; sitting back to scan the room or the people inside.
The screen display updates itself several times during the 'breaks'despite lack of a network connection, or a keyboard.
Botherable, if preoccupied.

thisfatefulhour

The bar is up one university student, lounging in an armchair by the fire with a book of poems.

He's glancing up and around every few minutes, apparently looking for someone.

[ooc: Not plot-locked, but ping before tagging, plz. :)]

vaapadmaster.livejournal.com

Mace, after his teaching and training duties, does indulge in idleness. At least once in a while.

That is why he is sitting near the fireplace, with a book and tea, looking very relaxed, and also botherable.

hcliffhuxtable.livejournal.com

The door opens, and there's a somewhat confused Cliff who comes in. Disregard icon, he's wearing a much more dressy-looking suit, and holds a giftwrapped box in one hand. "Whoa, not now!" He starts to turn back toward the door, quickly...
not there.
Cue facepalming. He puts the box carefully in a pocket. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" an accusing look at the Bar. "Tonight????"

night-hibiscus.livejournal.com

You can say what you like about the Al Bhed--many have. But one thing is certain: after two months on the road, it's hard to turn up your nose at their hot water heaters, blasphemous or not.

In other words, Yuna's had her first hot bath in weeks and weeks, and her clothes are actually being washed. With soap and everything. It's like Heaven.

So there's a damp and very happy young summoner curled up barefoot on the couch, wearing a simple blue shift she borrowed from one of the Al Bhed girls at the Travel Lodge. There's a teacup on the table beside her, as well as a couple handfuls of blue, white and yellow beads. In theory she's re-installing her braids--there's a bright yellow chocobo feather there, too, to replace the frazzled blue tassels of the big one--but what she's mostly doing is luxuriating.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace occassionaly has too much time, and not enough to keep her busy.

This is when the bad things happen.

Or, at least, the very unusual things.

One of the trees by the lake was oddly absent for most of the day, and now that the sun has gone down, the path leading from the bar's back door out to the mountain is highlighted with glowsticks every few feet. Someone (namely a small, stubborn pyro and her very confused dog) not only hauled over generators for lighting and hot plates to keep the drinks warm, but managed to rig a little rope and handle pully system to make a sort of 'lift' up to the top of one of the gentler slopes. Though, to be quite honest, it's what's at the bottom of the slope that wins the prize.

Snow toys.

Namely, ski scooters, ski bikes, tobaggans, sleds, snow boogieboards, innertubes, what looks like the unholy marriage between a tobaggan and an innertube, discs, and a very disturbing 'stool on ski' that doesn't look terribly safe. Just be thankful the John Deere tractor on skis was too heavy for Ace to shift.

Folks, the slope (being the singular, in this case) is open. There is, in fact, a note to this effect on the notice board, left when Ace went to get some carafes of hot cocoa and mulled apple cider.

(ooc: Much like the barthread rules: Post, threadhop, have mid-slope collusions, try the toys, have fun!)

(ooc pt.2: Sadly, I have to do this whole 'sleep' thing that evidently involves falling unconscious for no particular reason for several hours. Totally inconvinient, I know. But! I do slowtimes. And if I forget slowtimes, as I am a somewhat braindead vet student, PING ME. Srsly. Anyway. Threads are still open, slope is still open until infinity. Yes. *shuffles off*)

bringonthewonder

She has spent the better part of the afternoon -- no, wait, of the evening, trying to figure out what a man looked like before his body spent the better part of eight months out in a field. It's time for a break and some coffee, and on the way back, she can swing by Brennan's office and show her what they've got.

The only problem with this plan is that she cannot remember their having been a bar in the Jeffersonian before. And she's pretty sure she would have noticed. Hodgins would have seen to it that she noticed.

So, there's a slightly perplexed dark-haired woman in a dark blue lab coat, with a sketch pad tucked under her arm.

Angela Montenegro has found the bar.

whychoosefear.livejournal.com

Paul hadn't intended on coming in this evening, but he's hardly going to complain.

"Hey man, mind if I run something by you?"

"Of course not, Collins. Won't you join me?"

If asked, their conversational topic won't be discussed. Not even with fuzzy-gender line straddling drag queens. They think.

At any rate, Collins and Paul are talking, and either is open to interruption.

algiersloveknot.livejournal.com

[OOM: A Reunion between Bond and Bondgirl ends as most things involving Bond do]

Vesper gathered that this bar was rather casual, but that didn't stop her from dressing to the nines. Old habits and all that.

So Earlier she asked bar for something to wear to dinner, which prompted a slight "WTF?" on the part of bar, but you had to look your best. If anything, she wanted to make the right impression on these people.

So for dinner tonight, Vesper Lynd is wearing a Chanel ensemble that makes her feel terribly silly and wonder where it's coming from and who's paying for it. vowing to look at her tab, she takes the stairs, enters the room, and positions herself close to the bar, running a finger through her hair to place it behind her ear.

She wanted to get the lay of the land before her companion came downstairs. Please pardon her if she's staring intently at you?

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

There is a wolf by the fire. This is pretty typical, if you think about it, considering the number of wolves and werewolves and people who have distinctly wolfish dogs. The fact that there isn't two wolves is a little weird, unless you would happen to know that this wolf usually has another wolf and at least one child around him. That, however, would require knowing who the wolf is.

The book under his paw, however, might get him a glance no matter whether one knows who the wolf is or not. It's a bartender's bible, with a number of different drinks laid out in different colors and glasses with the ingredients listed on the side. It almost looks as if the wolf is reading it. Or it would, if the wolf was awake. He seems to be dozing rather peacefully near the fire, though he is chewing on the corner of the book in his sleep. Entirely unintentional, you understand.

Save the book?

takeusnorth.livejournal.com

[OOM: Some days are good, some days are bad, and some days you go shopping in a historical landmark.]

He enters the room backwards, both hands occupied with shopping bags and muttering something under his breath, so it takes him a moment for him to realize that he's not where he expected to be. When he does, he looks even more annoyed.

"Slack. What the hell is your bar doing in the men's room?"

...Needless to say, he gets no response.

Current Mood: cranky

soulburden.livejournal.com

[Pre-Milliways: The Lonely Life Unfolds.]

So many colours, I never knew there could be so many colours- more than steel, more than sapphire, unnammed colours on wings -more than one colour- and colours not known to man nor beast.

Perhaps now I am the Moth. I reject your silly labels, I shall no longer be called Patient, no longer Renfield-

"What is this place?"

[ooc: Okay folken. I sleep now, because I want to be up before 10 am tomorrow. ;) Tag if you want, I will pick up any and all tags.]

mnt_mike

Because it's Wednesday.
Because it's been quiet as of late.
Because you weren't looking.

Because Mike said so...and he doesn't look like someone you want to cross right now.

SPECIALS
Sufferin' Bastard
Flaming Butt-hole
Gran'ma in a wheelchair

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Anthropomorphic personifications. The Bar is OPEN."

captain-falafel.livejournal.com

Sayid's looking a little more relaxed than usual. He's forced himself to take a break from all the military strategizing going on back on Craphole Island, and now he's got tea and headphones and, oddly enough, a pair of comfy bunny slippers given to him by a waitrat.

He's finally given in and put the slippers on because as stupid as they look, they're quite a bit nicer to relax in than boots. Sayid is a practical sort.

Come say hi!

gone_byebye

Well.

Ray had been worried about Senator Frist today, since Dr. Campbell was on after him, but it was the weirdest thing. After the first two fumbling attempts at condescending questions, he'd been shoved aside rather abruptly and the first Congressional interrogation of a disembodied brain began in earnest. Who knew Senator Blutarsky had it in him?

Ray's just gonna be here with his lovely Green Stuff and a plate of chicken fingers while he tries in earnest to put the image of Dr. Campbell getting angry enough to actually make his cylinder hop up and down out of his mind.

Politics. Bleah.

thisfatefulhour

[A few weeks ago, Charlie gave Charles an invitation.

Tonight, arrangements having been made, Charles takes her up on it, and she brings him to Taos, where there are introductions, memories, and rather a lot of poetry quotations.]

stilljustandrew

*The front door opens, and in comes a cold gust of wind and an Andrew, unwrapping a scarf from around his neck and face and unfastening his heavy coat.*

*He drapes the coat over the back of an armchair by the fire, stuffs his scarf into a pocket, and drops into the chair with a sigh of relief.*

*New York gets cold in January.*

sorrowfulmisery.livejournal.com

There is a woman dressed for battle. Well... okay, when isn't she dressed for battle. But she's sitting in her usual booth with a sandwich and coffee in front of her. Her shotgun is laid to the side but the two berettas and the two MP5Ks are in their appropriate holsters. She's in a pretty good mood. So distractions or bugging her can be a good thing.

Maybe.

lt-naraht.livejournal.com

The Door opens...

Hey! Here's someone you haven't seen in a while. A half-ton boulder glides in, and he's whistling something that sounds rather like "The Drunken Sailor".

He pauses as he enters the room. "Well I'll be a conglomerate! Milliways!"

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Naraht back to the fold.

guppy_sandhu

The ice on the lake is tempting.

Guppy straps the skates onto his feet and stands up, testing the ice a couple of times until he's satisfied that it's solid. Then, he pushes forward and glides onto it.

In some ways he's an accident prone, clumsy man. But on the ice, more graceful.

He moves faster, letting the wind rush through his hair and the cold air clear his busy mind.

agirllost

[OOM: Los Angeles, CA - Kim's first day back at CTU is followed by an eventful night.]

night-hibiscus.livejournal.com

[OOC: OOM:

Recently, Yuna and Ed spoke.

Pursuant to that, there's a note at the bar for Nita, telling her that Ed would like to speak to her. It's signed by Yuna.]