milliways_bar | Mar. 27th, 2007

Mar. 27th, 2007

honest-fish.livejournal.com

[OOM: There was a mission, and the boys were not pleased...]

There was no door, just an arch of old brick that two figures ducked under. They weren't immediately recognizable, but they certainly were noticeable. Perhaps it was the sounds, such as: schlop, drip, squeak, shmop, patter. They were sliding, head turning sounds.

Or perhaps it was the smell, as if some slaughter house had turned on it's side and the pair had stood under the deluge.

Regardless of why, two dripping, blood soaked people ducked into Bar and the first halted a little painfully to gaze around and simply say "...ah."

pirate-gibbs.livejournal.com

Gibbs sits ashore, chewing on a biscuit, sipping some tea (with rum, of course), lost in thought. Soon, if his understanding of things is right, he will stand face to face with Hector Barbossa, as treacherous a man as ever sailed the seas, and agree to work with him to save Captain Jack Sparrow. He's not sure what disturbs him more: that Tia Dalma can bring back the dead, that she would bring back Barbossa, or that Barbossa would ever help the man who killed him or his crew.

Rum can only offer so much surcease from such concerns, even for Gibbs. So he might welcome company.

will_scarlett

Will hasn't quite finished his project so is sitting at a booth working on a small arrow. Two finished arrows that are about 6 inches long are beside him as he fiddles and works on the one in his hands. A mug of hot chocolate sits forgotten beside him as he concentrates and worries that the arrows don't look nice enough and is considering asking Bar for some ribbon to make them fancier.

Come help him before he goes overboard.

feminine-menace.livejournal.com

Now that spring is starting to show its colors, YT has gotten a lot more interested in the stuff Out Back. Since she hasn't lived with or been much interested in Nature before, she doesn't know what most of the things she's seeing are supposed to be called. It's gotten to the point where she's tired of her own ignorance and has taken steps to do something about it.

So YT is sitting at a table with two big, illustrated books, one for animals and one for plants, both dealing with things you can find in Scotland. She's also got a digital camera - it's part of her usual gear - which she used to take pictures of things outside. She is now comparing the pictures she took to the various illustrations and jotting stuff down in a notebook whenever she finds a match. Contrary to what one might expect of her, she has very neat (if somewhat masculine) handwriting, and her spelling and grammar are, for the most part, correct.

She's also got a mostly empty cup of soda at her elbow and the hag stone she found yesterday, now clean and polished to its proper glassy appearance. YT seems to be getting kind of frustrated with her efforts, which are going slowly. Perhaps someone ought to bother her for her own good.

Current Mood: busy
Current Location: Table in the bar

deathtowheaties.livejournal.com

Cereal marches in, soaking wet. He'd been helping the cute girl who was walking her dog chase him down after it had broken its leash. Sitting in the park had its moments, and he decided that the best way to win the girl over was to get teh dog back.

Which meant he wound up swimming in the duck pond.

So, the soggy Cereal's kinda happy to see the Bar, honestly. "Clean clothes and a towel, please."

Up until the Bar gives him a pair of clean, new jeans, and a t-shirt that advertises one of the Soccer teams that occasionally meet there.

"Funny."

So, Cereal, wearing unusual clothes.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells half-expected last night's discussion with Spoon to kick something loose in his head, so he was all tensed against the inevitable dreams when he went to bed last night. He awakened this morning without even the ghost of a memory of dreams in his head, and it's left his on the surly side all day. At school it translated into the sort of lessons the girls would remember for months. He's not about to bring that sort of mood home, though- not if it's lasted this long. Not with full moon starting at the end of the week. Better he spend the worst of his mood here.

Those who are outside may notice a man somewhere in his early forties setting a pace around the lake that Roger Bannister might well envy.

dontlooklisten.livejournal.com

Whistler's in an excellent mood today, one that's scarcely dampened in the slightest by the fact that he has yet to find a way to rig up the Observation Window as its own speaker panel. The soundpads just don't work. It must be too thick, or something. Oh, well, tempting as it would be to get the thing playing Also Sprach Zarathustra in time to whatever other people saw, he knows when he's beaten.

Temporarily beaten, anyway. He'll work it out eventually. Maybe after he and Suzi go home and get in some beach time. For now? For now he's tap tap tap navigating his way through the tables in search of his own former seat.

kryptonkara.livejournal.com

Kara is out of costume and hard at work, sitting in a booth as she methodically skims her way through a stack of magazines and other periodicals piled on the table beside her - everything from veterinary trade journals to crudely stapled together 'zines. The only thing they all have in common is being, in at least some small way, about cats.

Milliways has made Kara do some thinking lately. About things. Which things are really totally beside the point, which is that she's thinking. About, y'know, things. And cats, apparently.

She pauses occasionally to fiddle with the blue ribbon tied around her wrist (which matches her capris or she so wouldn't have worn it) and sigh. Thinking sucks.

sinisteressex.livejournal.com

Just for shits and giggles, 'Chad' is sitting at Bar, drinking sherry.

And talking like a loudmouthed Midwesterner at apparently nothing.

Hey, you run out of amusements when you're Bound.

goinghost.livejournal.com

[ooc: Please read this ooc note before tagging.]

There was a notice slapped on the board with all the others:

Geneticist Wanted

Preferably not of the evil, cackling variety. Ability to do pain-free procedures and not steal any DNA for cloning or other such hideous experiments a must.

Can't offer monetary payment, but if you have any sort of problem in your world that could use the superhero touch, can make with the heroics in exchange for assistance.

(Please note: am only willing to take down actual bad guys, such as Evil Overlords, mad scientists, or cackling-type super-villains. Will not, under any circumstances, take out civilians or other heroes. Evil governments being overthrown also a possibility, but please have proof they're evil. Also: no killing).

For more details, leave a note for Danny Phantom, or look for him in the bar. If he's in, he'll be the white-haired individual with the glowing green eyes, sitting at a table with a sign nearly identical to this posting.

In fact, Danny was sitting over at a table, with a nearly identical sign, head resting on his hand, and looking bored.

But boredom had to be tolerated. He needed a geneticist and he needed one before something happened and Dani destabilized. Better now than later, right? It was Danny's responsibility because Vlad sure wasn't going to make it his.

first-sixth.livejournal.com

[OOM: Jason returns to the Lair and gets a surprise, Tommy says something without really thinking about how it could be interpreted, and then the two ride off into the sunset together. It's an event that might be considered romantic, were they a) dating and b) riding something other than a dinosaur.

Millitimed to last Thursday evening, between the de-fossilization of Dr. O. and his EP.]

waylostandfound.livejournal.com

Depending on when you would catch him, you could find Nathan
(

Flying Man

) either out running out back, enjoying the early spring air, or back inside a bit later with some food. Also some newspapers from his world. Occasionally his gaze would flicker toward the wall where the door is supposed to be.

callitavesper.livejournal.com

[ Outside, by the lake: James tells Sarah things about his past that influence his present behavior. Sarah, in turn, gives James a surprise. It's a good surprise.

Spoilers for Casino Royale. ]

doctor-bj.livejournal.com

There's a certain look to students who are knee-deep in research. The clothes are geared more towards comfort than style - BJ has on her most battered and well-worn pair of jeans and her favorite sweatshirt. There's no makeup, hair is tied back in a ratty hairband, and there's signs of early caffeine toxicity.

BJ comes into the bar, her arms full of photocopied journal articles and heavy textbooks.

"Oh. Well. At least there is coffee here." She says philosophically. It's better than the library's study lounge.

lady_moon

[OOM: Friday night, there was an altercation of wizards and tarot cards which Indy interrupts much to a tarot card's relief. After the altercation, Moon falls asleep on Indy, who decides to take her back to bed. Come Saturday morning, Moon wakes up, quite surprised to be in someone's bed. She wakes Indy and they chat about various wandering topics.]

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

It had been supposed to be a quiet afternoon, but then there was the door to the kitchen and it was suddenly the door to the bar.

So here he is, writing out his correspondances at a table here instead of a table at home. It's fine, it's just letters and envelopes, the location's not exactly key.

He would welcome company.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

[OOM: The day after Moon's overnight stay, a certain nosy witch catches Indy trying to cover up another cooking debacle. Not one to refuse a glimpse into other people's lives, she sticks around for a cuppa and a natter.]

yankeedoodle_dr

Dear Dad, is how the letters always start. Hawkeye Pierce is strictly a traditionalist, after all. He usually goes on to discuss life at the 4077th. The meatball surgery, the kids (sometimes men, sometimes civilians of all ages, sometimes generals, but usually kids) who come through, the occasional rumble of mutiny in the camp, Henry Blake's loveable bumbling, the driving range into the minefield, Five O'Clock Charlie, Happy Hour -- Hawkeye is a talker, and boring as life can get sometimes in Korea, he is never short of things to tell his father. Writing about his surroundings is a particularly useful construct.

Trap and I have found a new bar. As quaint as Rosie's is, this one is especially interesting. The service isn't quite as charming, but I've found that the view more than makes up for it.

Sprawled at a table with a legal pad and a martini at hand, Hawkeye glances up at the observation window. He closes one eye and traces invisible lines between several exploding stars with his pencil before returning to his letter. He jots down lines quickly, handwriting teetering dangerously near illegible, as it always does.

I know you've tried to tell me this place isn't the end of the world, Dad, and I think you're right. It's the end of the universe, at the very least.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

The full moon is in five days. Spoon isn't...he's been worse. Spoon has been worse, and he's collecting tea to go so that he can take himself and the puppies out back instead of sitting in the main room of the bar. Out back, to look at the sky and mountain, trails and lake. He can't settle enough to read, today, or...or anything, really. Five days until he loses control no matter what he does.

He ends up leaving the thing of tea behind while he runs. The puppies follow as best they can for as long as they can, but it doesn't take nearly as long to wear them out as it does Spoon. Soon enough there are two sets of front feet on his shoulders and he's running with the puppies tucked in his arms.

oh-frak-me.livejournal.com

((oom: After this))
*Starbuck and Apollo head through the bar carrying their gym bags and laughing. They end up out by the lake in a large open grassy patch. She drops her bag and pulls out tape and gloves, prepping for sparring. When she finishes wrapping her hands and putting on her gloves, she stands up and starts dancing around a little, throwing jabs, while she waits for Lee to finish getting ready*

(ooc: They'd welcome other sparring partners or even an audience to bet on them and cheer them on.)

mallory-grace.livejournal.com

Mallory spent the morning in the gardens, working, and the afternoon studying. Now she was outside again, practicing yoga on the soft grass. She can get her body into some interesting positions, when she's really into it.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

Suzi comes down from upstairs and curls up with a book and Joy. Joy is under the chair with a ball making NOM NOM NOM noises as she dominates the ball. Totally. That ball is her bitch. NOM NOM NOM.

poisonwine

Belle wanders into bar. She looks like she's been crying, and since she didn't put on makeup, she's also pretty battered looking. It's a very defeated woman who sits herself at the bar tonight.

lady_moon

Moon is in the bar tonight without her wolves.

It's a very strange feeling, to be without her protectors, but Mary Anne had been clear that if she came looking for someone, to keep the wolves at home.

So the card sits at a table, her tarot deck before her.

Feel free to bother the quiet, somewhat pensive pretty girl.

[OOC: Within the Miniver thread is talk of Suit of Swords plot, which means it discusses nastiness. Don't read it if you didn't like even the overview of the plot.]

wizard_dresden

[ Harry is sleeeeepy. He's behind the bar, head resting on his arms on top of the bar. He's not asleep, just resting.

Bob's skull is on the bar and Bob's awake. He might even be whistling a jaunty tune or two.

Feel free to poke the wizard for a drink. ]

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

The best thing about the Doctor's wide-brimmed hat, Sarah's decided, is it's fantastic ability to block out light. Specifically, to block out any unwanted distractions or the glow of the lamp as she naps in an armchair by the fire, hat covering a good portion of her face.

Her book is close to falling off her lap by now as she rests, and her legs are still resting on the table near by. It's comfortable and well, more comfortable than she had thought when initially reading her book. That, added in with the fact that her boyfriend wore her out earlier this night, makes a small nap downstairs an absolutely wonderful idea.

yuppie-trash.livejournal.com

He has a packet of cigars. Half-coronas. A box of matches.

The polished slab of wood that he received them from must have been sym(--pathetic) today. Much better than the candy cigarettes (the package said Coffin Nails, and he wondered if he was supposed to find it funny) he had yesterday.

("The important thing to remember is that we cigar aficionados should present ourselves as considerate and understanding individuals. Changing a person's preconceived notions and giving the growing numbers of aficionados a good name is well worth that little extra effort.")

As a man that is entirely dependent upon his (ritual-oriented) routine, he has learned to relax and enjoy every aspect of this one while (impacted in the rectum of the universe) Bound. Cloistered in a booth, he removes one from the pack. He pulls off the paper band. The practice of cutting the cigar is one of the elements that may appear overly complex, but that is because that is his favorite step. It isn't a surprise that the Bar in her (logical) ways gives him cigars that have been already cut. So, as of now he slowly rolling the cigar between his fingers, evenly warming the tobacco under the flame of a lit match.

Generally hating the world. Chances are that he probably hates you too.

[ooc: Honestly... some headvoices need a teddy bear and a naptime.]

i_grenfelz

It's been TWO DAYS since Kit and Nita went off.

Two. Days.

Luckily, Carmela knows where they would've headed.

The door opens and she marches in, takes a glance around the bar, and announces to the room in general, "¡Ay! I'm looking for Kit Rodriguez and Nita Callahan. Anyone know where I can find them?"

She plants her hands on her hips and glares around. That muttering might be swearing in a number of different languages.

human-child.livejournal.com

It... It couldn't be. Could it?

Naaaaaaaaah.

Or, y'know. Yes.

Sitting, writing. It's what he does.

gorgonfondness

Mia ended up starting her new clay sooner than she thought.

It is starting to take the shape of a peculiar creature, but it is still too early for people watching her to be able to tell what exactly. Sitting near the clay for the sake of reference is an odd, round, green little doll with purple spots and legs. It has eyestalks, or at least they look like eyestalks, and what looks like a giant eye where the mouth should go.

Oh who are we kidding? Mia has that out because it's cute.

Don't try telling her it's not, though. She'll argue against you all night.

maid-of-astolat.livejournal.com

Elaine is in the bar, with a tray, looking around for people to serve. She's looking a little distracted lately, but she'll be happy to meet new people as well as more familiar customers.

callitavesper.livejournal.com

The long and short of it is: James Bond is in a good mood. The grin on his face isn't particularly wide, but it is noticeable, faint though it may be. He is currently seated at a table with the ubiquitous vodka martini (shaken, not stirred--he gave a damn tonight), staring outside the Observation Window.

soulkeepersong.livejournal.com

((A policeman stops by to say hello. And decides that Cassie needs a friend in her head.))

I burst through the janitor's closet back into the halls of the school. What should be the halls of the school. What's going on here? I skid to a halt, my hooves sliding on the wooden floor of the Bar. Of all the times to grab me, the Door chooses now?!

It's better than the Yeerk pool. At least I'm out of that hell hole. I just have to remember that.

My sides heave, soaked in perspiration. I'm still skittish from having to avoid fire-breathing aliens, and the sudden appearance of the Bar isn't helping any. Neither is a crowd full of humans and...other things. Now I have to find someplace I can demorph in private without anyone seeing that the horse by the Door is really a human.

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

In a quiet booth toward the back, and under a hood, there was a pale wizard hiding out. Martin had landed nearby, and hooted to him some. A pale hand extended out to give him a treat and something to drop off elsewhere. The owl then flew away, and the wizard remained. Watchful. Careful.

And trying not to be utterly terrified of the future.

stilljustandrew

*Andrew is sitting at the bar, writing a note.*

*Once he gets the wording right, he'll mail it. It seems to be giving him some difficulty, though.*

callsignhusker

It's not what he and Kara just spoke about that's on Adama's mind, it's the conversation he and Lee had a few hours ago.

"If it were you, we'd never leave."

What's called for is sleep -- it's been a long couple of days, with plenty of worry and plenty to do. As Adama opens the door to his quarters, he does his best to clear his mind. Easier to sleep if you're not dwelling on things. If you can put them behind you, for a while.

Finding a bar where your quarters are supposed to be can help with that. Adama steps in, eyebrows raised slightly, and with a very brief near-smile, he heads for the bar.

It's not a hallucination, it's been a long day, and he's off-duty. There's nothing wrong with a nightcap.

gonna_live

You try fixing things all day when you're feeling too rotten to eat much.

Kaylee is sitting in a chair by the fire. Won't be a fire for long, judging by what it feels like out back -- spring is coming, apparently, in Milliways. Nice. But for now, she's got a cup of tea and her feet propped up, and she's trying to keep her eyes open.