milliways_bar | May. 12th, 2007

May. 12th, 2007

callitavesper.livejournal.com

[ London, August, 2006: In the MI6, friends don't let friends marry without asking "WTF?" But if your friend is James Bond, you often have to concede certain points, if reluctantly. ]

kayip.livejournal.com

[OOM - July 15, 2012 - In total chaos, a path becomes clear. Warnings for violence.]

aj_crawley

It's a sign of the season that - although he's over near the fire - Crowley's in his shirtsleeves, jacket draped over the side of the armchair. There's a newspaper in his lap as well, but it isn't receiving much attention; the demon is not so much sitting as lounging, and at least halfway to reclining, contentedly absorbed in the dancing of the flames.

He turns a page, occasionally, just for the spirit of the thing.

didntseeit.livejournal.com

Ajedrez has claimed a table and, yes, claimed is really the word. She has an file, a map spread out, and a notebook open to show the world full pages of Spanish notes, if they get close enough to read.

What she should be doing is working out how to do Random’s job (six men, with herself and one other person). What she is currently, doing, however, is drawing a stylised jaguar on some graph paper.

Well. Maybe she’s multi-tasking. She certainly won't mind an interuption.

bring_a_sponge

[OOM: A few weeks have passed since the counter-assault against the Black Oil (previously seen here, here, and here), and ever since then, Stephanie Brown has been having even more bad dreams than usual. When Agents Zed and K invite her to talk about it, one last event from that day comes to light, and the Men in Black finally have a serious lead about who was responsible for the Black Oil invasion.]

janetsdaughter.livejournal.com

Billy and Cassie are downstairs in a booth.
There's food in front of them but they seem more interested in cuddling than eating. Well, Cassie is. Billy is always interested in food.

But all of a sudden Cassie sits up with an "Oh!" and starts rummaging through her backpack. "I have something for you..if I can just find it.."

[[OOC: Open to any and all - expect some slowtime from us and thus slowtimed tags are fine and lovely.]]

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Spoon, tanned, is sprawled in front of the fire reading. Slowly, loudly, and with rather a lot of vulgarity...but, honestly, not as vulgar as his usual attempts at Shakespeare. Things have been getting better, after all. The fact that he's in the process of turning a bunch of rabbit skulls into a bunch of beads does help make it easier to suffer the slings and arrows of the Bard.

He's actually got a large bag of rabbit bones, and a rather less full one of beads.

Much to their disgust, the puppies do not have rabbit bones. They have to settle for pig's ears.

thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com

It hadn't been Shirtless Remy time in a while, but it was, once again, that time.

That would be why the Thief and/or Delicate Flower was sprawled across a chair, legs over one arm, propped up on the other, brow creased slightly.

Either he was actually reading the book in his hand or he was making a very good show of it. Either way he's fully interruptable, and loves company.

poisonwine

Today, Belle feels like shooting stuff. It only happens once in a blue moon, and usually when it does, she simply takes a job.

But the job she has lined up specified that no guns were to be used. Beside, she feels like taking more than one shot.

So, there's a assassin lounging in a tree, taking potshots at birds as they fly by. Each bullet kills, but it's a challenge every time, simply because she's not as good with a rifle as a knife. Don't even bother giving her a pistol, either.

However, if you're wondering what the noise is, she'll be happy to talk.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Most times Ace goes out into the big bad 'verse, has her fun, and then comes back for a little (or a lot) of downtime. It's a sweet deal, and there's no reason to mess with it.

Sometimes the big bad 'verse gets cranky.

Ace comes sprinting into the bar, her Doberman hot on her heels, both howling for help. Close behind them comes what looks like a miniature storm cloud complete with tiny electric bolts. Sure, it looks like a bad eighties' special effects attempt, but the little cocktail shrimp it's firing as ammo are no joke.

(ooc: The shrimp monster is a) Mod-approved, b)non-lethal (unless you're allergic to shellfish) and c) up for grabs. Get shrimp in your drinks, chase (or be chased) by the shrimpthing, try to understand its needs (shrimp bait), kill it (... don't look at me), whatever. Here be shrimp.)

(ooc pt2: RL is evil and such. Must be away for about an hour, but I shall return! Feel free to threadhop people. Spread the love. :D)

gifted_profiler

When he wakes up, it's to find himself lying on a bed in a room he doesn't recognize-- but it's a matter of seconds at most for him to realize that he's in a hospital somewhere.

(gurney bloody hands let me out snarling faces out restraints let me out man with a broken arm let me out let me out out OUT)

No-- not a hospital. Even as every muscle tenses, Frank recognizes the difference-- this is an infirmary. A clinic, somewhere.

(trial drugs let me out screams and blood experiment gone wrong death)

Something's happened, and he's not sure what. He can't remember. Cautiously, Frank turns his head to one side. There are a few other people here, that he can see, and a man-- (nurse?) --with his back toward Frank, talking quietly with one of them.

Frank takes advantage of their distraction to slip from the bed and then out the infirmary door, at which point he realizes two things. First, he's at Milliways. Secondly, the sheer level of sound from the conversations taking place in the bar is for some reason nearly overwhelming.

He takes a steadying breath, and then moves carefully through the room to the lake door.

It's much quieter outside. Frank gives a sigh of relief and starts slowly for the shore.

[Not plotlocked, but any and all threads are automatically millitimed to well in advance of this one right here. Oh, and on that note? Warning for, uh, probable violence in that thread. Thanks!]

gorgonfondness

Mia is sitting in a booth with some tea. She looks content. Not thinking about confusion, distractions, problems, or anything of that sort. Just content.

Peaceful, really.

But company certainly wouldn't disturb that peace.

And she's always happy to share her tea.

foxy-l33t.livejournal.com

Meanwhile, back in Laini's lab at Furhold-
[OOM: Eight brass monkeys from the ancient sacred crypts of Egypt, starring two interns.]

Bwah. It is all coming together. There are just a few things left to get, and so, Laini is back in the bar. But, before she can look for a man in regards to ten spherical lyrical diabolical denizens of the deep, a note appears at the bar for her.

Score for the domesticated poultry! She scribbles a reply, and leaves it with Bar for delivery, before settling back with a small glass of sake.

Prank planning and lesson teaching is hard work, doncha know.

hearthethoughts.livejournal.com

There's a cop in the bar.

Cop, Agent, Matthew Parkman wears many hats and will wear many more. Today though, he's in a suit and a tie and he's looking around intently.

You were supposed to stop him!

Matt clenches a fist at his side while he takes another sip of water.
Just water.

He's fighting a massive headache and looking around the bar with an intent expression. Psychics be warned, he's scanning the bar.

He's trying to keep it discreet. It will probably not amount to anything.

morelikeasponge.livejournal.com

It's not fair that Peter's sore even in his dreams. He shuffles, wincing, toward the nearest booth, and flops gracelessly into it.

Sitting down. It's good stuff.

[OOC: I may be slow! In tagging, not on-the-uptake. Though I may be that too.]

ltmuldoon.livejournal.com

Lieutenant Muldoon was outside today. He ran through a string of excercises (He feels better then he has in years) before going upstairs and taking a quick shower. Then there was Shrimp

Now he's downstairs with a pile of maps. Some? Are in Arabic. Others? English. He's doing complex and top-secret military things.

Well no, not really.

Maybe.

You could ask him?

One disgruntled werewolf. He still smells like fish dammit. Although he might just be paranoid.

mistressmaryquitecontrary

Mary Lennox is very much enjoying the spring weather.

And, as such, her face is pink-cheeked and bright (and covered in dirt) when she steps into Milliways and heads over to the bar to acquire her usual milkshake. She's been gardening, of course. There's a great deal to do but it all takes second place to that.

hippodamio

The Trojan royal stables are all in an uproar as Hektor slips away from them; he pauses in the door, then shrugs a moment and comes the rest of the way in. If the goddess has called him, he is not going to argue. And anyway, he has offerings now: small tokens and gifts from the men of Ashgabat, but worth nearly a prince's ransom in Troy. He bows to the Bar, fist on brow, and stands tip-toe to place the silken purse and ivory carvings on the surface. "Thank you," he says as the offering vanishes, and then again as the loaded cup and plate appear. "It has been a hungry morning."

That said, he turns about him to find some suitable place to sit, and consider that which he has seen. But he would not mind company.

dontcryemodoc.livejournal.com

Sara enters the bar, descending the stairs, stretching as she walks. She takes a seat and orders a hot mug of coffee, curling her fingers around it for warmth.

im-a-whatever.livejournal.com

"No, really guys, that's great. That whole Mexican Singing Wombat thing's gonna knock 'em dead."

Gonzo just shakes his head as he shuts the door behind him. Sometimes even he doesn't understand artists.

accessobrian.livejournal.com

[oom: Holy lands are SINGIN'
Birds take to the sky
The prophets all are stinkin' drunk
I know the reason why]

Warnings: Death, Doom, Destruction, General Chloe-ness.
Lyrics by Aerosmith Nobody's Fault

forced-pilgrim.livejournal.com

Have you ever wondered how the bar would look if you were less than an inch tall?

No? Well, Monkey thinks you are strange. That is probably comforting, if you know Monkey.

If you don't know Monkey, he's the (currently) teeny fellow in the saffron robe, with the tail, scurrying around the floor juggling crumbs.

Don't step on him. Or do, if you're prepared for surprises.

callsignhusker

It's not the first time Adama's found himself in Milliways since he and Hektor spoke; it's the first time he's approached the bar.

It's a surprise, therefore, when a wooden figure appears, with a note attached (the four corners of the paper have been clipped).

Adama's smile is broad (for him, anyhow) as he traces the curve of the bow with a light touch. He's not religious. He knows who it is.

A moment later finds him composing a note.

( Hektor )

When that's done, with a request for translation (if it's possible -- if it's not, Adama knows Hektor's smart enough to find somebody to read it to him), he takes a gill of golden to a table with a decent view of the entire room.

kitchen_maid

Amy brought Susan in to visit the bar this evening, found a comfortable place to sit, and is trying to distract her daughter from everything there is to wander over and look at, using the time honored method of tea and cake.

It's mostly successful.

If slightly messy.