milliways_bar | Jan. 24th, 2007

Jan. 24th, 2007

impulsivekid.livejournal.com

Bart is standing by the service board, with a book in his hand. The Mister Boston bartenders guide. He flips through it a couple times, then closes his eyes and opens it at random.

On the board, he jots down.

'Tonight, your server is Bart. Waiters special is:Razzmatazz! A hot Coffee with Rasberry and other flavored liqeurs!'

Who knows, it might work.

command_dot_com

[OOM: After a game of Jetball.. Someone has got a LOT of explaining to do...]

From behind a door comes a muffled conversation before it turns and opens. An irritated green lady sprite in the door looking back towards some, fairly familiar, blue and in armor.

"Dot, wait--"

"Bob. Really, do you expect me to believe that there is--" Guess she's picked up on the sounds on the other side of the door AREN'T hallway noises. There's the pause and the stare of first-timers everywhere.

"...a bar."

Welcome to Milliways, Dot Matrix. You haven't gone random.

...yet.

[OOC: Fire away!

Slowtime is love. Keep tagging. ]

vaapadmaster.livejournal.com

Mace comes into the Bar from the House of Arch, moving to a calm booth, and sitting down to read. As usual in those cases, a waitrat brings him a teakettle and a few cups, a subtle invitation for company.

Botherable, yes.

prydeful

[OOM: Help is coming one day. And in some ways, today.

And in some ways not.

Set yesterday.]

mop-jockey.livejournal.com

There's not much to say, when Lenny comes back through the door. He looks around a few times and settles onto a stool at Bar.

"Could I get a coffee please?" A bit of the luster's gone, but nonetheless he gives her an affectionate pat when the coffee appears alongside a t-shirt.

"What's- Oh." Milliways- Start your day with a Big Bang emblazoned on the front of a black t-shirt, white lettering. Luckily, he's not too far removed from his last Bar experience to not remember that last time he wore that shirt.

"Gimme a second? I'll need my key." His room key appears and he runs upstairs to take a shower and refresh himself (forgetting to change into the t-shirt).

When he comes back down, he scribbles on the Special's Board.

Hello Folks! Lenny Inchpot, here to serve you. Gimme a yell.

That done, he gulps his coffee and sets to wandering about.

notjustatoaster.livejournal.com

Sharon is sitting by the window staring at the end of the universe and marveling at how beautiful it is. She seem sto be in a very good mood today.

Instead of her usual whiskey she has a cup of tea in her hand and a nice plate of biscuits. Definately botherable.

gone_byebye

Ray doesn't usually look too wild-eyed when he comes into the Bar unless there's a mad pastry involved, but today, well... today looks like it was one of those days where it was not worth it to chew through the leather straps. Everyone has days like that.

Although, since most people are not Ray, they generally do not wind up smelling like a barnyard as a result. And they're definitely not given to wearing battered, sort of trampled-looking Ghostbusters uniforms, either.

At least there's no slime?

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

Belar wanders in from out back, whistling tunelessly to himself- it would appear that, sober or no, the Alorns come by their somewhat deficient musical abilities legitimately. "Bar?" he says. "I am having the worst coffee jones ever, of, like, anybody except Issa. And it's for a kind of coffee I haven't seen on the market in thirty-four years. Any chance you could get me some-"

A mug- about the size of a man's head- appears on the bar in front of him. Belar grins.

"I don't even need to touch that to know you got it right. Thank you, Bar. You're a doll, you know that?"

He resumes whistling, taking his coffee off to a seat nearby. A moment later a sign appears on his table:

ANSWERING PRAYERS
BACK IN 15 MINUTES + (TIME NECESSARY TO FINISH MY COFFEE)

NO INTERRUPTING THE GOD'S COFFEE TIME
UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE TURNED INTO A SMALL WOODLAND CREATURE

gravity_shifter

Sikozu's been busying herself lately with the usual (security shifts) and the not-so-usual (looking after a clutch of chicks).

Today, however, she's got time for herself, so she's doing something she hasn't actually done for a while - walking on the walls. It's not like she's ever going to forget how, but it's nice to practice, once in a while. Keeps her on her toes, so to speak.

heads-you-live.livejournal.com

Domino was back again, or perhaps she hadn't yet gone home. She had a habit of doing both, really.

Just at the moment she was perched just as close to the observation window as she could get, fingertips and cigarette smoke tracing the paths and flares of the destruction outside.

It was something almost like medetation, really. But that didn't mean she couldn't be interrupted, in fact, it would probably be good for her to have an interruption.

wyrd-fox.livejournal.com

Well, someone's got to keep up Lady Ako's tradition of dancing on Bar's counter in fox-form.

So, enter Foxtrot X-ray. He's currently looking like a perfectly normal fox...well, not perfectly normal. In addition to the extra tails, he is wearing tight, black pants and a poofy shirt. The music he's dancing to as an aggressive, seductive, South American beat.

And his partner seems to be a bottle of Bushmills.

Any pup who gets this will get a free drink on FX's tab. :D

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

Archie stomps in from out back, kicking the worst of the mud off his boots and shedding his great-coat before collecting a cup of tea from Bar and heading over to the couches by the fireplace. He's got some time to relax before his shift later, he's got plenty of time. Come say Hi.

princeinexile

[OOM: Zuko's days in Ba Sing Se just start to run together.]

hellooooo-mcfly.livejournal.com

There's a loud BANG as the door is thrown open, and a jean jacket-wearing, head phone-attached, skateboard-carrying teenage boy runs through, "DAMN!"

Behind him one can hear the almost deafening sound of what sounds like twenty clocks, all ringing at once, and you could almost glance a couple of them behind him as the door slams.

The kid isn't paying any attention, because he's busy stuffing his ears further into his headphones. "Eighttwentyfivedamndamnstupidexperimentsdamndamn--"

He throws down his skateboard and jumps on it, reaching forward as if to unlock a gate...

...And promptly makes a very high-pitched yelp and falls flat over backwards. The skateboard skids out from underneath him and keeps skidding, narrowly missing a few people before it hits the edge of the Bar itself.

Meanwhile, the kid is staring at what's all around him.

Because last time he checked, you know, Doc's back door? Didn't open into a bar.

"What the hell?"

Bar, plz to be meeting Marty McFly.

mendanddefend_archive

Bob went back to Mainframe yesterday, intending to spend a while at home.

Then there was... a bit of a change of plans.

Bob and Dot both ended up staying the night at Milliways. Now they're back down in the main bar, sharing a plate of chips and chatting about various odds and ends.

Feel free to come interrupt them.

buddyofchrist.livejournal.com

True to his word, Biff's come back for a visit. And a burrito, because only by miracle could you find decent Mexican food in New York. He's made himself comfortable at the bar, looking potentially offensive with his "Homosexuals are Gay" t-shirt and moderately cheerful with his "yay burrito" grin.

snorkacklover.livejournal.com

It’s with considerabley less cheer than normal that Luna begins her shift (let us ignore the fact that she’s beginning it so late, thank you very much traffic jams). After the usual chalky self-proclamation on the Specials board she sticks a sign up beneath it.

Have you seen this crumple-horned snorkack?
He generally responds to Wainthropp,
but will answer to anything if there’s toast involved.

Satisfied, she begins to wander the bar, eyes peeled for possible customers and/or snorkacks.

janetsdaughter.livejournal.com

[OOM: Cassie recovers and goes to the beach.]

janetsdaughter.livejournal.com

Cassandra sits by the fire, staring at the flames.
Even though she's been thinking about this for.. so many years.. she still wonders at times.

And so she sits.
And thinks.

Thinks about what is, what could have been..and what -hopefully- will be.

notagod-apollo.livejournal.com

Lee Adama still hasn't quite gotten the hang of Milliways yet. He's loosing track of days, he doesn't know how long he's really been here, they're all blurring together. This fact alone keeps him more than a little uneasy about the place. He needs to go back soon, needs to go before he forgets entirely what his purpose was out there, if any.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he's sitting, watching the destruction of the universe with a sort of morbid fascination. He's got a bottle of bright green Ambrosia and a glass, but the bottle's still mostly full, and the glass sits next to it, the liquid all but forgotten. He'd be more than happy for a little company.

analucia-cortez.livejournal.com

She sits there at the same spot as the night before. Bored out of her mind. Wondering when he'd show. The woman still didn't look amused, nothing was amusing about this place. This, boring, horrible place that she wished she'd never see again. So much for being in peace when being dead. Swirling the straw around in the tequila and tonic filled glass had those hazel hues looked up to the bartender, signaling for one more. That would be her second. No need to get drunk off her ass.

Ana Lucia didn't need to be acting stupid, along with pissed off, and already watched x ten by the security.

mnt_donnie

Donatello comes downstairs very, very cautiously. He steps behind the bar, looking around bemusedly at the array of bottles, garnishes, shakers, stirrers and assorted bar paraphernalia.

Donnie doesn't hang out in bars. Donnie doesn't even drink. Nevertheless, Mike can't take his shift, so. Donnie is bartending.

He picks up a piece of chalk and writes Happy Hour Specials in large neat letters on the board.

There is a long pause.

Finally he picks up the chalk again.

Happy Hour Specials
I'm not sure what the typical special should be, so I'm willing to experiment with suggestions from the patrons, perhaps using beer as a control against which to measure the popularity of-

He runs out of room, sighs, and sets the chalk down.

Happy Hour is officially open.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

One Sime, channel, entering the bar with a basket of sleeping puppy and a basket of knitting. She heads for her normal seat cheerfully humming along to the headphones she's got on.

Something country. Something classic country. Something sappy. Occasionally she sings bits along, in that way of people who don't really realize they're singing along because they can't hear themselves. She's not bad. That's the best that can be said.

captainryan.livejournal.com

Ryan's looking much better. His skin has ceased to peel and is now merely pink instead of red. In light of this turn of events, he's at a table with a bottle of Black Bush whiskey and two decks of cards. He's right in the middle of a game of Spider, but he's quite up to conversation.

leftthecradle.livejournal.com

The sun is setting over the Milliways lake. The air is crisp and cold, and snow covers the ground in a thick blanket. However, there is a large circle of ground where the snow has been cleared away. In the midst of it, there is a person wielding a metal pole in some type of martial arts form.

He is also shirtless and barefoot, but he doesn't seem to be noticing the cold much.

alwaysroomforhope

[oom: on with the show - Steph cleans things, inside her head and out, and then - ]

- comes downstairs and settles into a chair by the fireplace with a book. She looks more well-rested than she has in some time; a little on the pale side, but that's hardly unexpected. It's been a rough few weeks.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

Garion's outside.

His shirt's been stuffed into his scabbard and his cloak sits on top of that as he practices with the massive Sword. The breath puffs out of him in white clouds and similar slips off of him in the form of sweat, but he doesn't seem to mind. The sword itself is in his hand, swinging through the air in graceful arcs. It's not actually on fire, but the blue glow refuses to disappate and Garion's not about to argue with the Orb over it. The shadows around him act strange, almost as if they were more than shadows, but he doesn't seem to be paying them any mind as he goes through the various forms he'd known since he was a boy.

Feel free to disturb. At a distance, preferably.

mapmakerchur.livejournal.com

There is a whirring noise, and then a large vehicle shaped like an egg small-end down begins coming through the door. When it's all the way through, it stops, rolls a little to the left, and then a hatch hisses open.

Chur steps down out of the vehicle and eyes the bar. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. At least the door didn't just open on the methane-side," she says ruefully, flicks her ears a few times, and heads over to the bar.

we-re-men.livejournal.com

"I told you, compadre--we need us a GPS on this thang."

"I don't think this is the lobby, Jedediah."

"Of course it's--see that thar's old Fido's pedestal and that's--that's the Information desk.

...See, this is exactly why we need us a fancy GPS, but when I ask Larry for one, you say noooo."

"I don't need one. My sense of direction is impeccable. You got us lost."

"What are you tryin' to say, man? What are you tryin' to say? I used to be an explorer, you know, explorified the Wild West--I could lead us through Central Park in the dark, I swear I could. Fine, you have such an impeccable sense of direction, why don't'choo get us back to the lobby."

The door had opened, which was how the two little bickering voices got in, but it appeared that no one was there.

...Unless you looked down at the RC car rolling across the floor, eventually coming to a stop at the bar. Two little men climbed out, and after a monumental struggle, they managed to scale the bar itself and climb on top, to get a better grasp of their surroundings.

"Well, I'll be danged!" the little tiny two-inch tall cowboy said to the little tiny two-inch tall Roman general that was his companion. "They added a saloon to the museum!"

true_desire

There's an Endless in the bar.
It's shocking.
Desire. In the bar. Who would have guessed?
... Well. Perhaps anyone even vaguely familiar with this particular Endless, but that's neither here nor there.

Desire seems to be without intent this evening, just staying at the usual table, smoking the usual cigarette, and a simple glass of champagne in hand.

An undirected Desire is a bored Desire.
Bad news for anyone who wasn't looking to become Desire's evening entertainment...

[OOC: I've had to slowtime because I'm out of practice -- I'll get back to this!]

scaredbybook.livejournal.com

It looks like a small wedding cake. It's make of plastic and Pixi Stix wrappers and a pair of sporks. And it's glowing blue. Some space has been cleared for it, with chairs set up so nobody just walks over it. Bar allows it, so it must not be dangerous. Kira is kneeling on the floor in front of it. She hits a small timer. And what she does goes like this:

She chalks a pentacle on a slate lying on the floor and sets a candle in the center in practiced motions, muttering a prayer to Hecate so that any mistakes she makes will be overlooked. She lays out two small saucers with strange dried things in them, pours oil in one and a few drops of bottle in another, and lights the candle. She starts chanting in Latin, low even words. And then she makes a throwing gesture.

Most of the time, there's a small pop! and the blue light fades. Then Kira hits the timer, punches the air, and grins. Sometimes nothing happens. That's when she hits the timer and stares glumly.

Either way, anyone's got a moment to find out what she's up to.

evryinchbut1.livejournal.com

Valerie's cursing under her breath as she comes downstairs at a trot. The problem with the late night shift is if you lay down for a nap in the afternoon, you just might not wake up until your shift's underway.

She ties on an apron and puts her name up on the Specials board before starting her rounds.

Your server is: Valerie

Feel free to flag down.

[ooc: Threads may be short, due to the mun's need for sleep in a few hours.]

http://users.livejournal.com/_mother_dearest/

Lyrae is in the bar at table with hot tea.

She looks just like and is acting like ever other damn time she's entranced, because let's face it the pup is in a rut, and the mun can't work up the will to come up with a novel way of putting the exact same thing yet again. It's apathy night at Camp Rance.

Tag now.

shufti

Jack has a teddy bear with him today, which is taking turns between having its ear sucked and being dragged along the floor, as much loved teddies are.

His mum is keeping a close eye on him as he toddles around nearby. Sometimes he takes the teddy to the lovely toy Molly gave him that makes pretty sounds and babbles away to it as he's hitting the notes.

ghost-x-present.livejournal.com

The Ghost of Christmas Present was trying to dance in the middle of the room, now anyone knowing her knows to stay away when she is doing such things as she is the clumsiest person alive. Somehow though, she never seems to get hurt, just other people.

She was twittering and being silly swinging her wand to and fro and counting steps. From nowhere in particular bubbles floated in her area.

astral-brat.livejournal.com

Ben notices the transition from shuttle to bar as he steps through the door from the cockpit, but he pays it little attention. His mind is focused on the pain in his stomach that still makes him wince every so often ... and the question he can't quite seem to answer, the confusion of why did Nelani have to die?

He doesn't understand it, it's not fair -- Nelani was nice, a good Jedi, and that other woman, Brisha whatever-her-last-name-was, she was okay too. But that stupid Sith killed them.

Sure, Jacen killed the stupid Sith afterwards -- but that doesn't make it fair.

"Hey," he greets Bar as he climbs on a stool. "Can I get a hot chocolate? Thanks."

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is sitting close to the fire, half asleep with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

Not perhaps the most sensible of things, but it's warm and cosy. And quite soothing listening to the crackle of the fire.

Until he discovers a spark has decided to ignite his sock.

This, unsurprisingly, wakes him up a great deal. He yells, stamps the sock on the floor and throws a glass of water over it. It hisses and goes out. He quickly pulls the sock off and inspects his foot for damage.

k_in_black

Agent K is standing in the Front Door, rolling his eyes as he speaks into his MiBlackberry.

"B. B! Just remind L the marriage contract isn't binding unless she's within two parsecs of Regulan Beta."

"How in hell is this my problem? I didn't tell her to try shaking hands with the Regulan ambassador. He's got double-jointed flippers oozing three strains of glucose, and that wasn't enough to remind her you're supposed to just nod your head and skip the rest?"

"I'm sure she is hysterical. I'd be hysterical too if I was marrying into the ambassador's family. You ever meet his cousin, !Xertpl? Real piece of work, that guy--."

"B--. B--. B! Tell me about it later, I'm at Milliways."

K steps to one side, and looks visibly relieved as the Front Door closes, cutting off the signal. He strolls over to the bar. "A double bourbon, Darlin', if you please."

It's times like this when K truly appreciates the End of the Universe for getting away from it all.

naminemory.livejournal.com

[oom: pre-milliways, in which there is a door from a drawing]

When Naminé passes through the door, she is a little surprised to say the least. For one, she feels...more like she used to, when she was in the World that Never Was. The drawing is still in her hand, and it's crumpled a little in her grip as she turns her head from side to side, then up to the rafters and back down to the floor before her.

This place, it's most..unusual. It is unlike anything she's ever seen before, though it feels familiar if only because she's drawn something like this only moments ago. There are so many people...and so many things to see. She isn't quite sure whether she is intruding a place she shouldn't be in, and whether she should turn back. Only, she's so in awe that she can't move.

So, there is a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl who appears to be fifteen years old, standing in the bar space by the door in a simple white dress, a crumpled drawing in her hand. She looks a little dazed and certainly speechless.

gonna_live

You spend enough time living under the rule of Malcolm Reynolds just when you're starting to really think about the 'verse and your place in it, you get used to taking action. To being able to take action, whether it's busting in or just running away.

With Kitty Pryde in prison --

...there's nothing. Nothing to run from, nothing to get her out of.

Nothing to do.

Kaylee is tucked up in an armchair, sock feet pulled up on the seat, arms hugging her knees, head resting against a wing. The change of scenery isn't helping much.