milliways_bar | Jun. 16th, 2007

Jun. 16th, 2007

fencing-prodigy.livejournal.com

Juri makes a rather imposing, if comical, addition to the room’s atmosphere, standing wide-eyed as she looks up slowly from the floor through her tightly curled orange locks.

Must be the wrong floor.

But when she turns to reenter the elevator in the main tower of the student council building of Ohtori Academy, all she sees is a bare wall.

Thoroughly baffled, but unwilling to show it, she walks purposefully across the room and takes a seat at one of the tables. It is clear, despite her attempts to look at ease, that she has no idea where she is.

OOC: First post ever in Milliways! Be kind. ^_^

velocitygirl

[OOM: Shalla and Wes visit Inyri in the cells. Things...are not happy. And things do not get better automatically because Zekka Thyne is out of the way.

This sucks.]

slayer_fray

Sometime tonight, Mel wants a shower. Now is not the time.

She comes out of the Security office with her face as expressionless as it ever gets, and leaves a note for

( Wes Jansen, Shalla Nelprin, Jack Harkness, Corran Horn, Tycho Celchu and Atton Rand )

And then another for

( anyone )

Then, she goes upstairs.

cf1.livejournal.com

There is a very tall redhead outside, and a bit out of the usual trails. You see, she does not want to accidentally hurt anyone, because tonight is dedicated to finding out exactly how much strong she is.

So, old dead trees, big rocks, are lifted, ripped, and replaced, with a reasonable amount of noise; in a couple rains, all traces of her exercising will be gone, but until then, it can be either a very impressive show... or regarded as showing off.

It all depends on the observer.

victoryisboring.livejournal.com

It's raining outside the door as Mai steps inside. She wasn't expecting Milliways, but it's not exactly an unwelcome thing to find herself here. After all, at least it's not raining.

Her long hair and elaborate robes drip onto the floor for a moment before she approaches the bar to request a towel.

heads-you-live.livejournal.com

The bounty hunter was up early that morning. Really it was anyone's guess as to whether or not she'd slept.

She was doing better, sure, but still wasn't back to full capacity and still hadn't fully forgiven herself.

She knew what she had to do though, and was giving herself another day to recover and regroup before going home. Just for now though she was at one of the tables near the back door with a plate of bacon and eggs on an english muffin.

(mun at work, tags will probably be patchy. She insisted that she wanted breakfast though, so have at if you don't mind slowishness)

synapse-circuit.livejournal.com

Now that J.C.'s almost fully recovered from the wounds he came in with, he's up to exploring the grounds outside - and he has been. He can't remember the last time he was in a place this green, this uncluttered by civilization. It's something of a wonder to him, even though he's a city boy born and bred and he can't quite feel at home elsewhere.

He discovered a firing range, but he's not sure whether it's meant for general use, and in any case his ammunition is limited and the Bar will not provide more. So he settled for tossing throwing knives at the packed-dirt, almost-sheer surface of a small eroded cliff in a secluded dip of land by the lakeside. It feels good to be able to use his right arm again.

Right now, though, he's taking a break from knife-throwing. Most of the knives are currently stuck in the cliff wall, above and to the right of where he's sitting with his back against it. He's smoking a cigarette, which is harmless to him because of his augmentations but sort of useless for the same reason - his body won't pick up the nicotine. J.C. mostly does it because it's something normal people do, and there are times when he wants the comfort of being normal. Or pretending to be.

He has the lighter in his left hand, the one with the metallic filaments in it. The lighter, which he absently turns in his fingers and flips open and closed, is made of silver, and engraved with the New York State seal. It used to belong to his father.

There's a noise nearby, something that sounds like a footstep. J.C. snatches at the lighter, arresting its motion, and looks around to find the source of the noise.

loveinalocket.livejournal.com

Shiori sees her, of course. It would be impossible not to see her. Juri has a way of drawing all eyes in the room to her, simply by walking through a door. Shiori isn't certain whether she should go over to her. Milliways can be shocking at the best of times, and... Does the presence of a familiar face in a strange place somehow mitigate the fact that that familiar face belongs to the last person you want to see? Shiori doesn't know. Come help her decide?

sed-en-ta-ry.livejournal.com

The Little Mermaid-esque statue was out on her rock again, overlooking the lake.

She was lovely, very lifelike, but still made of wood. At least, her person was, the dress she'd gotten from Bar the night before was ruffling in the occasional breeze over the water.

pirate_jack

He's getting more and more restless with each passing day. If asked, Jack Sparrow wouldn't be able to say when the last time was that he was away from the sea for this long. Even rum isn't helping all that much, not any more.

That's why he's currently sitting on the white sand of the beach, hands resting lightly on his knees as he meditates.

With his eyes half-closed, he can even pretend the blue water of the lake is somewhere else entirely.

[ooc: and, since the question's now come up-- Jack's post is not plot-locked. tag or not as you please!]

slayer_fray

This table used to be Tim's. Mel wonders how many people remember that. But regardless of nostalgia, it's in the middle of the bar, and it's highly visible, and from it you can see the front door, the office, the bar and the stairway door.

For once Mel's badge isn't pinned to her leg or belt, but to the strap of her tank top, as she pokes at her food. She's checked on the cells already, but everyone was asleep. Right now she needs to talk to... well, anyone.

masterofritual

Steerpike has spent the past couple of weeks pinching leftovers from abandoned plates before the waitrats can get to them (unwilling, with no source of money to start any kind of tab for surely Swelter would punish him for the debt) and wondering at when he might go home. His conversation with Zhaan has made him curious about the world outside the kitchen and he is eager now to see what it might hold.

So he's perched in a booth, keeping an eye out for Doors and unattended snacks. Better watch your plate!

berryberryraz.livejournal.com

Raspberry's at the bar, sipping from an inhumanly large chocolate milkshake. Somehow the chocolate manages to dissipate when it reaches roughly the place her heart should be, leaving her original colour completely unaltered. It is a mystery.

Come ask her what's up. She loves company, particularly attractive male company.

eldorne-girl.livejournal.com

[OoM: And the night before Thom's resurrection, he goes to tell Delia...

And it turns out that he's not the only one who is leaving.]

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

The girls at the Academy've been doing small group tactics for the past three days, and they'll be moving on to reconaissance techniques and the like shortly. Wells has been working on keeping ahead of them on that for some time now, and feels he knows the subject well enough to teach it properly.

However, time spent on more tactical work means that it's not spent on more physical workouts, so Wells has to bleed off a little of the urge to tear into something somewhere. Thus, someone who approaches the woods behind Milliways today may well note the fellow at the tree with the very stout limb, laying into the hundred-fifty-pound bag from Everlast with both fists and the occasional knee, foot, or elbow.

For all that his hands are bare, the bag is having the worst of it.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Spoon has a ratty old leather journal. Not old enough to be of value for being antique, and not ratty in the way that means it's probably been through interesting adventures. It's just a ratty old journal that he used to keep when he was a boy.

Which, all by itself, makes it fascinating. He's going through things in his handwriting (which hasn't improved with age much), reading his opinions (most the same, some changed), and learning about who he was when young.

This requires more fags than usual, and a puppy draped over his lap.

mago_sonriente

Sometimes, it's better just to walk around like anyone else, even if the lack of weaponry has you twitching just a little.

Carlos had decided, somewhere in between one conversation and another, that he'd stick to 'civvies' while he felt out the end of the universe. It might not be the wisest idea he'd ever had, but he new from experience that people can be touchy around wizards and he'd probably have better luck this way. People drop all kinds of information while they're chatting to handsome young men, after all.

It's not as if he was really unarmed, after all. He was still a wizard, a Warden, a badass of the highest order.

Thus he's sitting at the bar, sipping thoughtlessly at a bottle of Negro Modelo, looking for people who might come off as 'chatty'.

~~[shanghaied for movie: back in a couple hours]~~ BACK! And fully pirated-ed.

Current Mood: curious

mistressmaryquitecontrary

Mary Lennox is sitting at a table by the back door, watching the room carefully.

She doesn't look quite as angry as she may have over the past few weeks; it's difficult to maintain a constant state of scowliness for that long, although admittedly, if anyone could manage it Mary could. But she still seems tense, wary and uncomfortable, and strangers, especially, all get given a very searching glance as they pass by.

awesome_lilly

Lilly is at a table without her children, but with paperwork. The possibility of new hires at the brothel and nightclub, plus sorting through the backlog from the nights she does have the kids, well. It's a substantial pile.

She's seriously thinking about hiring some babysitters for the twins after they get some names, and talking to Mac about training someone else on the computer systems if she can find someone she trusts, because seriously?

Even with a drink to hand, this is all a little too much like work for Lilly.

unwraith.livejournal.com

Michael's busy. There's been people to welcome home, here, and in another galaxy, some experiments to field test. He won't say he hasn't been looking forward to it.
What? That he plays nicely here...doesn't make him one of the White Hats. He's not in the habit of pretending otherwise.

Telepaths tend not to be very good at lying to those that know them.

However.
That's back in the Pegasus Galaxy.

The Wraith who comes through the door tonight? the same, but not entirely...

There's no recognition in his eyes, only startlement, confusion, mixed with
anger. Wariness.
Depending on who sees him, he may not be entirely recognizable, either, as a who rather than a what.
He stops by the door, one hand resting on his gun, before he takes a step forward.

((but off temporarily, will reply to any tags when I get back. This version of Michael is coming in from just *edits--crap!before his appearance in the first "Michael" ep, so yeah, he's not going to know other nonSGA pups. Caution suggested!))

sed-en-ta-ry.livejournal.com

After having gone for a swim, as usual, upon waking, Darcy made her way back into the bar.

She rather liked her new green dress, it dried quickly, and before long she was perched at a table near the window, sorting through the contents of her reticule, mostly she was trying to figure out how much makeup and how much of a warderobe she could afford, given as how she only had to eat once a week and she wasn't sure how long she was going to be staying.

Fully interruptable though, and friendly.

still_golden

Things happened very quickly after the battle at Andarien. Things changed, in the blink of an eye.

And while some things were resolved at long last, there were a few things left hanging -- like goodbyes.

That's been bothering Jennifer Lowell who was. And though travel to and from the land beyond the summer stars is strange and difficult to arrange, it's by no means impossible.

The door opens, and admits a golden-haired woman in a dress as green as her eyes, glancing around the bar hopefully.

shortofcrazy

There is a famous scene in a particular movie. The song begins 'you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man...'

Riley Poole is certainly not John Travolta, but he's strutting just the same. Through the door and through the bar, toward Bar herself. He's wearing all new, nice clothes (black T-shirt, maroon and brown striped shirt, brown blazer, jeans, black Chucks) and a pair of expensive sunglasses. "Hey," he says to a random patron. "How you doin'?" to another, as he passes.

Riley is having a good day.

[OOC: Have crashed; slowtimes, please!]

takiena_called

Finn has settled, cautiously, in a slightly more deserted area of the bar--though not in a dark corner, and not against a wall--with his slate and chalk, trying to sketch something from memory (it is very light, and vague, only just started and probably never to be completed: a cottage in a valley, perhaps).

He might be trying to ease himself back into being comfortable around people. By the set of his shoulders, it hasn’t started working yet.

theravenboy

A week ago, Bran Davies packed up his clothes, his textbooks and the collection of political pamphlets he's begun to accumulate during his first year at university. He carried his old leather suitcase, full nearly to the bursting point, on one train east to Shrewsbury and a second train west to Machynlleth. Owen Davies met Bran in the LandRover at Machynlleth station and drove him, silently, back to the Dysynni Valley and Clwyd Farm.

It wasn't a bad term, really. Bran found a circle of friends in Cardiff. His exam scores were strong, although not perfect. He was distracted at the end of fall term and the beginning of spring term, and in any case he's finally gotten to a school where many of his classmates are as intelligent and hard-working as he is. The fact that Bran's been able to reach Milliways only once since he returned from the Summer Country, and hasn't been able to go to the bar on purpose at all, hasn't concerned Bran very much.

When Bran finally returned to his old bedroom at the farm, pulled the harp from under his bed and began to play it, he still couldn't reach Milliways.

By now, several days later, he's certain he's lost whatever gift brought him to the bar of his own will. Therefore, Bran's surprised and delighted when one of the barn doors opens, for no reason Bran can determine, on the end of the universe.

ladysilverwheel.livejournal.com

[ooc: Arianrhod is a goddess of Things. Many Things. See this back room post for details!]

Twilight turns to dusk and dusk to night, and as the stars begin to twinkle into view as they ceaselessly do each time the sun slips away, something Strange happens. The stars that make up the constellation Corona Borealis begin to shine a little brighter than usual, and they twinkle in what any observer will notice to be a pattern - twinkle, shimmer, blink, twinkle, twinkle, shimmer, blink, twinkle - and then, a star, the largest star in the constellation blinks out from the Northern Crown, leaving a dark spot in the sky.

The constellation, then, returns to its normal state.

And in the middle of the grass stands a woman - a goddess - who was not there a second ago, smiling brightly as she turns her head up toward the sky.

Finally, she thinks, beginning to glance at her new surroundings, I have found a way!

It's amazing, really, what lengths those who reside in the heavens will go to just to get a taste of what life on the ground is like.

But there is something very, very different about this place that Arianrhod notices almost immediately. It is not a Good Thing, not good at all, and she wrinkles her nose as she eyes the building nearby.

whitest_witch

Jadis glides in through a door that wasn't there a moment ago, surrounded by a cloud of frosty air, which quickly dissipates in the warmer atmosphere of the bar. She's been in the Snow Queen's realm, just - chillin', if you'll forgive the pun, but it was time to come back. She looks around, and smiles one of her frosty smiles. It's good to be back.

observethesound.livejournal.com

She's been around. Praying and meditating. You might not remember. Sometimes she goes out back to sit.

But tonight, she was sitting at a table with a serene expression, with tea and a plate of almond cookies. Also a light vegan meal. The plate is for sharing more than for herself.

Help yourself.

guppy_sandhu

[oom: Gone out. No warnings.]

It had seemed such a good idea at the time. The nice med student he met at work had told him where she worked. He'd had nowhere better to go, so why not? Except by the time he had got around to making a vague attempt at flirting ("You're very pretty. And sexy") the reality of her just dumped situation had kicked in ("You know I just lost the love of my life"). He became aware that his attempt had failed when she burst into tears and slapped him. He became aware that it had failed badly when the bouncers removed him from the building.

As such, Guppy, Trainee in All-Things-Romantic-That-Can-Be-Done-Whilst-Pulling-A-Bizarre-Facial-Expression, is sitting near the infirmary, rather soggy with a slightly red cheek, Doing Paperwork. Yeah. Sure.

The doctor is in

creator_raven

Raven drops from the rafters, feathers turning to coattails as he settles into a boot, feet propped up on the table.

Motorcycle boots, dusty though they may be, really go with the decor.

Really.

Eventually he will be reading a book, underlining things as he goes.

Or possibly he is just drawing pictures.

Sometimes words are not so helpful, yes?

There are cookies, too, and a pitcher full of lemonade.

Sometimes milk is also not so helpful.

Or so tasty.

It is a thing.

bannion_sight

It'd been a clinic day for her, but Kim had made sure to leave her white coat behind when she walks through the door into Milliways.

(She's forgotten to unloop the stethoscope from around her neck, though.)

She's already looking forward to unwinding with a cup of coffee.

callsignhusker

[Immediately previous.]

He makes the marines stop outside the door to his quarters as they caravan back to the infirmary; he tells them he doesn't need help and if he's not out in five minutes, it's all right to come in.

His quarters are undisturbed. (No sign of Lee.)

He grabs a book without looking at it, figures the hell with the rest of it, if he needs anything else somebody can be sent for it, and he opens the door, clumsily, and steps through, and pulls it closed behind him -- all the while breathing laboriously, all the while leaning heavily on his cane.

When Bill Adama, bathrobe and pajama-clad, raises his head, it's Milliways.

When Adama turns back around, the front door isn't there.

He'll sit down now. Deal with this later.

Maneuvering himself into a nearby chair is the most physically painful thing he's ever done. He doesn't want to think about how he's going to get up.

devils-fear.livejournal.com

Matt is fed up. He's tired of being here, he's tired of waiting, and knowing there isn't a damn thing he can do about it is adding to his frustrations.

He's done a lot of work since he's been here, trying to keep busy, to pass the time. He's gotten himself into better shape then prison allowed, he's healed from injuries recieved during the riot he used to escape, he's even managed to rest some. Now he's ready to go but still has no door to go through.

So for tonight he's in a booth with a light supper, brooding.

sosectu-rior.livejournal.com

Ilyana's startled to find herself back here. She wavers between immediately going home, her door still visible, and taking a short break.
Well, a few minutes' rest here shouldn't hurt. It's winter back in Nivet, and
her house is firmly snowed in. She won't have another chance to travel away until spring.

She heads for Bar, smiling, more relaxed than she's been able to be in long
months.

captainryan.livejournal.com

Ryan finished dinner some time ago but wasn't quite ready to head upstairs just yet. Instead he's taken one of the armchairs and is reading a book, a half empty pint of Guinness on the table next to him. Every now and then he glances up, not really looking for anyone, but keeping an eye on the rest of the patrons in general.

He's of the opinion that it's a bad idea to completely drop your guard in Milliways.

gone_byebye

The scene on the other side of Ray's door is the chaos of a fair-sized American train station, and the look of relief on Ray's face as he steps into Milliways is palpable. "I am only just beginning to hate the Long Island Railroad," he says to no one in particular, and heads for the Bar. No alcohol this time, just a big glass of the Green Stuff, but that seems to be enough for now.