milliways_bar | Jun. 6th, 2007

Jun. 6th, 2007

[A man should fit his body.

Warning for disturbing imagery in the first link.]

Will has rum, Bar has rum, its a good night.

Will is at Bar giving her drinks as he drinks from his own bottle of rum occasionally singing songs to Bar.

Its hard to tell from his accent and drunken state but these are not the proper songs for children. Come and join him and learn the joys of rum.

visible_sariel

It's a very relieved-looking Sariel who walks through the front door tonight.

She trails the faint scent of cinnamon as she enters, and the scene beyond her door is that of pleasantly cluttered, homelike quarters; looks like the bar's in her closet again. For her it's been two days--long enough for the Ferengi to be soundly ousted and thrown off the ship, for everyone who belonged aboard to resettle, for the child incarnations of a quartet of officers to be returned to themselves, literally. Two days, since a meeting with a magical woman called Mia, a pair of unfamiliar books gone to a good home, and the reaction of a working door not five minutes after.

When the door hisses shut tonight, it stays, and when it's triggered as Sariel turns around, it swishes readily open and closed. "Whew!" Being in Milliways is one thing. Being in Milliways with the option to leave at will is quite another.

Sariel's smiling as she heads for Bar and quietly asks for pasta. Tonight calls for noodles, and spicy sauce, and possibly tofu. Mmm, dinner not from a replicator, fair as those were.

When the order appears or rather, doesn't, she's left blinking. "What in the...?" There's a poke, poke, of one finger against the side of the box she's been given. "What... what is this, Bar?" A tilt of one end of that package yields the steady tinkle-tinkle-tink of uncooked noodles rattling against one another. Pause. "And do you know, whoever's printed this has misspelled the word 'craft'?"

Oops...

iambetadraconis

He's not in on this, or in any way participating in this, but that doesn't mean he can't notice.

Downstairs after being woken up by a growly stomach he's at the bar with the full intention of ordering a meal fit for a sumo wrestler.

The order hasn't been given yet because Rabastan's too busy making faces at the bar. And wrinkling his nose.

"Bar, you smell," he tells her. "Someone polish you with stale whiskey?"

Rum. I hash rum, from Jock the pirrit, Bar explains as well as she can write on her oh-so-soggy napkin given her intoxicated state. & lyk yu smel nic afer sev- sevu- sevral dr- dr- drenks. Mak skumks jellus when yur slushed.

Giving bar a poke just wouldn't have the right effect, since Bar's pretty solid even when hammered. So he gives her a dirty look.

"Shut up and give me something to eat."

He's given a meal worthy of a blue whale.

No. Really.

He's got a platter loaded up with krill. And lots of it.

Oh well.

They're not bad really—crunchy even—though they could stand to be cooked.

Because some of them are trying to crawl away.

Current Mood: hungry
Current Music: The sounds of Bar hiccupping.

victoryisboring.livejournal.com

Mai is sitting out by the lake (on a rock, where she won't get grass stains on her robes). A pile of small, flat stones is sitting next to her. There's no telling where they came from since she certainly wouldn't have expended the effort to collect them.

Still, there are stones, and Mai is skipping them out across the lake with seeming carelessness. She's pretty good at it, it's rare for a stone to sink before it's skipped at least six times.

A careful observer might note that the stones are skipping across precisely the same spots on the surface of the lake. At least out to the third skip. Mai is suppressing her frustration with the small variance in the positioning of the fourth.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

[OOM: After learning something interesting from Allie Keyes, Knox has a lot to ponder]

longlonghair

Rapunzel has been waiting for her mun to have time to play for a long time! That time has arrived; Rapunzel is sitting at the bar (with a flimsy excuse for her absence in the bar of late), staring at her plate with bemusement. Her eggs are slightly runny, and her toast is slightly burnt. Her bacon looks fine, and it all arranged in a happy face on her plate.

“Okay.” She sips her coffee to find it perfect and smiles in gratitude, patting the glossy wood. “Thank you, love.”

She sets about eating her breakfast, wondering what she should do with her day. She’s open for suggestions.

mallory-grace.livejournal.com

Mallory has been around. She’s been working in the gardens in the mornings, and reading and practicing fencing, hanging out with Henry and doing yoga. For now, though, she is simply sitting in a booth with a tall glass of iced tea with dirt under her fingernails, grass stains on her shoes while her hair is slipping out of its ponytail, relaxing after a hard morning’s work turning the compost heap and cutting grass.

She probably needs a nice, long shower, but for now, she just wants to relax and people watch.

heads-you-live.livejournal.com

A bounty hunter
Eating her lunch quietly
Debating leaving

(mun on lunch at work, have about 20 minutes for sure then patchy afterward, this goes for Domino, Clive and Remy)

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Fashion designer
Treadle machine moving fast
Hasn't eaten yet

thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com

Delicate Flower
Lounging on the best sofa
Not wearing a shirt

bringonthewonder

Angela needed a break. She needed a break from the lab, from the smell of dead alligator, and from Zach, who is trying to figure out how to move from being someone's coworker to being someone's superior with all his usual skill at anything involving social skills.

Which is to say, not much skill at all.

She has coffee and a confortable chair.

[OOC: Mun is spending an afternoon off of work cleaning and doing laundry. Replies may be a bit slow, but tags are most welcome.]

withakey.livejournal.com

G'Kar is eating
a full plate of fresh spoo now
there's plenty, enjoy!

notordnrybubbly.livejournal.com

[Pre-Entrance]

The front door to the bar opened and a young girl fell through. Her clothes are all black, or look like they used to be black. Now they are caked with mud, making them look a brown, dark grey color. She blinks as she enters, the sudden light making her eyes hurt. Where was she? She hadn't stumbled onto a Pretty party had she? She must have, there were too many people otherwise. She automatically hid her face, and turned around to leave the way she came. The door was gone. She looked for an exit, adrenaline running through her system, making her hyped up. She couldn't be caught. She promised Peris.

Wait.

Something in the room made her double take. This didn't look like any room she'd ever seen before. And the people.. Her eyes widened. There wasn't a Pretty among them. And some..most..of these people were..well. They were OLD. At least thirty. She'd never seen a face age naturally past the age sixteen. How.. Where where the Pretties? What was a bunch of Uglies..OLD Uglies, doing in New Pretty Town? Everyone knew Uglies weren't allowed there..and everyone had the operation. What was going on here? What sort of place was this? Where was the door? Where were the Pretties?

What's going on?

scurlock

The first thing Doc sees when he opens his eyes is the top of Bar smashed up against his face.

Ow, that hurts.

The second thing Doc sees when he opens his eyes is Will, slumped over next to him, his face also smashed into Bar.

That really can't be comfortable.

Upon sitting up, Doc realizes that for one thing, his head really, really hurts. His mouth is dry and he feels like he fell off of a horse and rolled down a cliff, sore back and neck and everything's a little bit fuzzy.

There's a memory of singing and another brief hint of some poetry, and women's breasts...

"What the fargin' 'ell," he groans, before he reaches out a hand to poke the other outlaw. Maybe Will remembers something.

((Two pups, two muns, one post! It's a special. Both Doc and Will are here, and hung over, feel free to poke them as they look horribly miserable after having passed out and spent the night sleeping on Bar.))

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

Jack Frost is not sure
Why we are using haiku
But will roll with it.

evryinchbut1.livejournal.com

It's time for waitressing, I think,
For Bar's hungover -- how are you?
Who needs a drink?

The angst-filled patron at the brink
Of plotty doom and coup?
It's time for waitressing, I think.

Or someone feeling in the pink
And celebratory, and who
May need a drink.

There shouldn't be the slightest kink
In serving them, though Mike's ill, too.
It's time for waitressing, I think.

It's Valerie, whose glasses clink
Upon her tray, that's looking for a cue
To ask "Who needs a drink?"

But it's her mun who sees all your haiku
And raises you a villanelle or two
In time for waitressing, I think.
Who needs a drink?

[ooc: An early waitressing post, as the mun will be off to dinner and rehearsal soon. Slowtimes are welcomed!]

blue_raz

The strangest sight was The Ghost of Christmas Present wearing a set of Hello Kitty PJs. She was sitting with another strange looking character. Raziel didn't know how to deal with this. She was over the top. She looked like a mortal but there was something about her. She said her name was Nancy. What he couldn't figure out what why he couldn't get away from her.

His head was being held in his hands.

mnt_mike

TODAY'S SPECIALS
Brondo
Greasy Food
Shut the Hell Up

Woah, someone's awfully testy tonight. Must have been the eight hours of uninterrupted sleep he had in a comfy bed warmed by his beloved pet miniphant.

Ooooor, it was the fact that the Artificially Intelligent Bar that he's mentally bonded to got absolutely plowed last night, and that's a pain that no only lingers but is best enjoyed with company.

Currently Mike appears to be holding up a small corner of the Bar Back. The parts of him that aren't completely swaddled in a rather gigantic green-hooded Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sweatshirt are looking kind of grey at the moment. Funny enough, it's a shade that matches miraculously well with with veneer Bar appears to be sporting this evening as well.

"you're just lucky i hurt too much to sing. that's all i'm saying."

ahogarse.livejournal.com

Something quiet is lurking on the lakebank.

In and out behind the rocks, dark splashes, soft noises.

[ooc: sorry about that, folks, was kidnapped for business but am returned.]

talkstohats

Sophie's been sewing every free minute she's had over the past several days.

. . . unfortunately, that hasn't added up to a great number of free minutes. Which is why she's now in Milliways, on a couch in front of the fireplace, maneuvering a needle through several layers of white fabric in order to create a layered skirt. The rest of the skirt is draped over her own, rather plainer blue dress and spread out across some of the rest of the couch.

She'll move it if anyone asks - but for now, she needs the space.

governor-swann.livejournal.com

Time for Weatherby Swann has moved strangely. It's scarcely been a fortnight in Port Royal, and he's managed to visit Elizabeth here only a handful of times.

He knows times moved much differently for his daughter. He's so very pleased she's here and safe. Cutler Beckett makes matters more precarious by the day for those like his Elizabeth.

mandercommander.livejournal.com

Bonzo and Dooku are both sitting at a table, eating dinner. They could probably use an interruption to their conversation. Any takers?

truequest.livejournal.com

Sheik is draped along a tree branch in a tree by the lake...asleep.

Not a usual thing, but she's been in a good mood lately...

The only thing visible is a tiny foot in a dark blue shoe sticking out from the leaves. She left part of her armor on the ground, because daggers are a little uncomfortable for napping.

She wouldn't mind being bothered, she's just snoozing.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace, still in the process of making sense of the data she stole shamelessly from the rather misplaced starship that so rudely interrupted her vacation, is terribly distracted. Thus, when she orders up supper, she isn't expecting the chocolaty cupcake (with lit candle) that appears with her dinner of mac and cheese.

Ace blinks at it.

"C'mon then. Y'know that date's as arbitrary as they come." Evidently the hungover Bar does not appreciate argumentative pyros.

The cupcake disappears, to be replaced by a full cake.

Ace sighs and takes it with her to a convenient table ad spreads out her notes.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is sitting
Next to the infirmary
The doctor is in

jianhuo.livejournal.com

The second the door appeared in the Bar, she was out. It didn't matter where or when, there was somewhere else to go and she took it.

Weeks later, sitting in a slowly cooling room in an inn on Wuzhao, she smokes a cigarette beside the window and starts to think about what to tell people, if she happens to stumble back. Not that she wanted to go back, of course.

It's just that it might be a good idea to get out of Wuzhao soon. The room wasn't the only thing rapidly cooling and someone was bound to collect soon.

The next week, gardening on Gaia in a sunhat and dress the kind old couple of the farm offered to the young woman their grandson was so taken with, she wonders what she should tell Bill if she goes back. She had been so excited to go home that she couldn't wait? She tried to peek through the door and got pulled through? She tripped? She tried to find him and left word with Bar, but the damn thing must have lost it...

One month later, she's in silk with a flute of champagne in her fingers, leaning into the arm curled around her shoulders and showing off a ring that she's been told is divine at least fifteen times tonight. An hour later in the coat room, 'celebrating' her engagement with her fiance, she wonders if she'll get back to Milliways again at all or if she'll ever stumble into another world.

And just as she's finished winking at the boy bringing them room service on her way to the pool, the automatic doors do not open to a glimmering, shimmering, holographic representation of a beautiful beach on what should be a basic pool.

It's a bar. Or, rather, a Bar.

Blinking, the redhead looks around in surprise.

Surprise will give her the time she needs to remember what alias she was going by the last time she was here.

soapcarvedhands.livejournal.com

Harding hasn't been around that much--only a few days, by his reckoning, most of that time taken up in silent observation.

It isn't surprising, then, that he leaves as quietly as he stayed: just gets up, crosses over the to the Door, and stands in front of it for several long seconds. He twists the knob as he twists his face, gathering courage, and

there

...........he

...goes.

[OOC: The mun has exams! No Harding until after next Friday.]

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

Atton's at a booth, mechanical parts (all of the mostly circular variety) and curved bits of sharp metal floating in the air above him, being carefully put together.

Which evidently means his powers are either back or on their way back. This pleases Atton lots, which is why he seems in a particularly chirpy mood.

Botherable.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells has been far too busy at the Academy today to catch any spare time in his own world. he's been at the Bar for some time- or rather, at Milliways, since most of that time was spent outside either practising on his own or talking to someone. Now, though, he's starting to get hungry- and he's aware that Annie's going to be working late tonight, so he might as well eat here. A seat by the fire it is, then, with something that smells strongly of onions and peppers and cumin and no meat at all.

And an empty seat at the table, too, if anyone's interested.

nolongerhunted

Rather than stay cooped up Jessica is downstairs and is curled up in a booth. A plate of cookies and a glass of milk sits in front of her untouched. Instead, she has a sketchpad and is content with sketching. What she's sketching is a whole other matter. Whether it be the landscape, Sam or something else is a whole other matter entirely. Whatever it is... she's really engrossed into it.

Distractions would be good.

stilljustandrew

*There's an Andrew in the bar.*

*He's looking a lot more cheerful than he did last time he was here.*

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

[OOM: The Americans claimed to be dragon slayers when they turned up on Quinn's doorstep. And now, they get to prove it... only things don't turn out like they'd planned.]

When the Bar's front door opens, the only thing visible on the other side is a dimly lit castle hallway. There's a whiff of disinfectant and iodine, and of scorched ... hair, perhaps, if one tries not to think about to too hard. The man who opened the door doesn't notice; he's too busy looking around the Bar as the door closes behind him. "Oh, hell," says Quinn, and his shoulders sag visibly. This was not where he'd meant to end up.

A few moments later he's got a seat at the bar, but the near-invisible trembling that'd been touching on all his movements when he came in's overcome his resistance. He doesn't even bother ordering just yet. He's just going to thunk his head down on the Bar's top and leave it there for a while. It's simpler that way.

(OOC: I realise I posted this last night, but I'm still good for tags this morning if anyone's interested.)

hippodamio

It's easier by far for a lad of fourteen to get out from under his guardians' eyes and do as he likes in Troy than it ever was for a boy of eight, and so it should come as no great surprise that when Hektor enters the Bar it is from somewhere that gives the appearance of being a public market. He bows deeply to Bar upon his arrival, murmuring a few words of ritual greeting; then he lays a broad necklace of worked Egyptian gold and gilded glass upon the Bar's top. "This is my offering for today," he says. "I have not been able to bring the wine, I am afraid. I hope it will suffice."

regan_tam

"Shall we?" Gabriel had asked, with a small smile and a gesture towards the sitting room. Regan smiled back, setting her dessert fork delicately on its empty plate, and rose. He offered her an arm when they met at the end of the table, and she laughed at the absurd gallantry of an escort from dining room through one doorway, and tucked her hand into her husband's elbow.

She thinks for a moment, wistfully, of Simon and Kaylee strolling down the stairs at the party so many months ago, of how right it looked to have them in this house, and steps through the wide doorway into the --

Oh.

This isn't the sitting room.

"Well," she says after a moment of blank startlement, laughing a little, "I suppose aperitifs here will work just as well."