milliways_bar | Sep. 18th, 2007

Sep. 18th, 2007

mandalorianheir.livejournal.com

And Fett is in the Bar. No, he's not too talkative, but he has a sign out:

PROBLEMS SOLVED
PRICE NEGOTIABLE

So...anybody have any problems?

blue_eyed_lord

((OOM: Just when you thought you were well rid of them...

...you are. But their absence does not mean they lay idle.

On Midwinter's Day, the Dark did rise. Thanks to one man, however, one unassuming man who just wanted to be helpful to a friend, it did not rise here.

The tool, so useful, was wiped clean and put away, and the engineers, with a whole world of possibilities newly opened to them, went to work.

They made their plans, and took their places, and the great game began anew.

But do not worry, dear patrons of Milliways. All is well. Yes, everything indeed goes well.))

immortalthief

Amanda is sitting by the fire drinking some tea watching the place where the door should be pondering what it would mean if the door were to appear again.

Sip

Think

Sip

Think

Sip and think

Bother at will

dean-o-dell.livejournal.com

The shock of being dead has passed, and it's left the dean with a sense of merely being. Which is to say, he's finding this part of the afterlife pleasant but a bit dull. He needs something to enliven the days besides ESPN Classic.

Thus he's asked the Bar for a book. "Something I missed," he says, and the Bar obliges with The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. He tries not to make a face - it's a novel about two guys who wrote comic books, of all things! - but everyone seemed to love it. And Chabon's lecture at Hearst in the fall of '05 was one of the few literary events that the dean would call a success.

He's at around page 30. So far, so good. But he wouldn't mind some interruptions.

[ooc: slowtime for work likely]

fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com

Kronos has been dealt with and the TOMTIT machine overloaded beyond the point of repair. This is just fine with Lethbridge-Stewart, who frankly wasn't the least bit pleased with the whole mess. There's got to be a write-up, of course, but he'll deal with that soon en-

Oh. Milliways again.

Well, there are worse places to get one's thoughts in order.

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

Belar checked up on the security briefings this morning, after his usual fifteen minutes of prayer-answering.

Belar is not a happy bear. Oh no, he is not. Patrons turning each other into flies- fine, so long as the target got better, whatever, he doesn't care. You got that back home sometimes. But if somebody's screwing around with Milliways patrons and making them be somewhere else that they can't be found- that is not a good way to put the god in a good mood.

Possibly this is why he hasn't bothered turning off the glow for his Visible Security Member shift this morning, although in deference to local sensibilities he's at least turned it down to a bearable level.

lady-detective.livejournal.com

Milliways has, for once, caught me in a good mood - though true to form, it has brought me when I'm at something less than my best. The bruise around my left eye is fading but still can't quite be concealed by makeup, and I'm still moving stiffly due to various aches and pains (the worst being in my ribs). Being punched and falling out of a second-story window will do that, but I have the satisfaction of knowing that the responsible party ended up much worse off.

I make my way to the fireplace and settle cautiously into one of the stuffed chairs. A barstool or a wooden chair at one of the tables would be a little too hard on me this point.

~*~*~*~

YT's not training with Steph anymore, but she's still taking hand-to-hand lessons, now from a small but tough-as-nails Korean guy who's a friend of a friend of Hiro's.

Right now, she's using some of the moves she's learned to wail on the punching bag outside. She's a small person and it's a very big bag, but that doesn't seem to bother her. She's more bothered by whatever's motivating her to attack the bag.

~*~*~*~

J.C. is on the firing range, but not practicing with a gun. Instead, he's tossing throwing knives at one of the targets. For him firearms practice is training, but knife-throwing (which he did not learn in the course of his formal instruction) is more of a way to unwind.

[OOC: Tag anyone you like. Emma is in a good enough mood to treat you to a drink, if you're reasonably polite. YT is pissed, but not likely to do to you what she's doing to the bag. J.C. is...well, himself. Lots of slowtimes until about 6 PM.]

sime-channel.livejournal.com

Normally when Suzi posts signs next to where she's sitting they are discrete. Not this one. It's about two feet tall, has photographs, and columns of information. The photographs are of Sergeant Wells and Spoon, and the question above them is "Have You Seen Either Of These Men?" with, just slightly smaller, "Or Do You Know Of Anyone Else Gone Missing From Milliways?"

doctor-weir.livejournal.com

[OOM: Saying goodbye.]

Elizabeth managed three whole hours on Atlantis before needing to run away again. I can't keep hiding here circles in her mind, but not for very long before an even more fierce retort of I need to get ahold of myself if I'm going to be of use to anyone chases it away.

So, she's in Milliways, and meandering her way through the patrons out the back door, no true destination in mind.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

[In Riva: A Little Girl Prays]

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

OOM: Hektor's new man at arms is not an Egyptian god.

aggro-speed.livejournal.com

Y'know what the best thing about the bar is? Awesome FROM THE FUTURE technology when you need it!

Or just. . . really really want it.

Brian has sprayed something FROM THE FUTURE on the bare ground outside. It's smooth, slick-surfaced and dries hard. Apparently, it's for temporary landing platforms. This is why Brian, horribly deprived of surf and boards, is out there with a skateboard doing Stupid Person Tricks.

According to the back of the can, it'll start breaking apart into harmless gases once sunlight no longer hits it, which means he's got until sundown to get this out of his system. This is fine with him. Brian has no night vision.

Happy guy on a skateboard, eyeing the slope of the roof in between making the most of the uneven ground and trying new stuff. Lecture him about not wearing a helmet! Make fun of his ability!

Or ask for a turn.

You know you wanna.

((OOC: Mun has 'pointments to meet. Mun ~~gone, will be back.~~is pretty darned back!))

gone_byebye

People don't always tell Ray things, and by 'people' we mean 'his goddaughter', and possibly 'the hereditary gods of his goddaughter's people'. This is all right. Ray survives a lot of things by not knowing about them.

Chemistry, however, is not on that list. While he survived today's experiments in Riva, his clothes did not. Oh, there were no acids involved, no alkalis so powerful they could dissolve a man's flesh- but occasionally, working with some of the compounds Ray's had to acquire for his experiments in achieving fossil fuel-like levels of energy extraction without access to actual fossil fuels goes wrong. And when we say 'wrong' we mean 'Arthur Kill or Kill van Kull in the days before the Clean Water Act' level of wrong. Translation: Ray's normal, everyday, Earth-style clothing had to be shucked off in a hurry because OH DEAR GOD THE STENCH. Fortunately he keeps the Jedi outfit that Valentine Wiggin gave him years ago on hand in Riva. It gets him fewer weird looks from the locals- it's no doublet and hose, but it's at least more respectable than pants.

Ray hasn't bothered to change out of them since coming to the Bar. He plans on going outside for saber practice in the nice fresh non-chemically-stenchy air just as soon as he finishes with his lunchtime bean burrito.

krazyglusurgeon.livejournal.com

[OOM:The Preacher - Part 1]

gorgonfondness

[OOM: Damn work. Damn Nash. Damn war.]

conglomerelda

Before heading back to her world, Elda stops in front of the bar and pulls out her notebook. She scribbles away in deep concentration for several minutes before dropping off two notes with the bar.

One is for ( Lan Mandragoran: )

( And another for the rest of security: )

Both are signed simply 'Elda' in her large, looping script.

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

[OOM: The morning after the fight, Sarah does some thinking.]

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

This is Ace.

This is Ace with a 3D starchart for her universe. It's all very pretty, but she's busy throwing little light-darts at it.

What?

Her current method of searching is quite patently worse than useless. At least she got food. It's fried greasy food (pizza and a coke), but it is food.

Spoon probably wouldn't approve. But Spoon's not here, is he?

chemist-rani.livejournal.com

As such, she's enjoying a fruit cup (of all things) in one of the booths as she works on repairing the 'adjustments' Arbitus had made to the temporal circuitry she's been planning to attach to their 'vessel'. She almost might have been better to start from scratch with all that he'd done; he was a relatively competent engineer (and one with a particular genius at finding usable parts in the middle of scrap), but the very solid grasp on standard physics which had allowed him to construct their escape transport served poorly when one entered the realm of temporal manipulation. Or so it seems to her anyway, and she has no patience nor inclination to spend on truly teaching him anything about it.

She's got out a screwdriver and a few other things popped from the compartments on her wrist device and her datapad sits next to the lot of it, scrolling through the sensory readings from a number of her experiments which, thankfully, have been left alone by that meddling Urak.

Which is to say... she's certainly opposed to being interrupted, but that doesn't mean you can't.

mago_sonriente

Gone is the cocky smile, the easy charm, the graceful strut.

He's shaking right now, looking around as he tries to figure out if he wants to be here or not. If he should. It's obvious he didn't choose to come this time as he glances back over his shoulder before closing the door.

Well. Hell.

No free drinks tonight.

And he's pretty sure Harry's--

He doesn't want to think about Harry right now. Or the camp. Or the kids. Or the bodies.

...he'll do that tomorrow. After he drinks and after he mourns and after he's slept. Then he'll think. Right now, though, he'll slink.

Over to the bar, into the corner nearest the wall where he's hidden in a few convenient shadows. Yeah. That'll do right now. That'll do.

Current Mood: depressed

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

I'm finding it so hard to hold on.
This is where it falls apart.
This is where it falls apart on me.

"
(OOM: Another holiday break, and it's worse and worse when you're on the wrong side of war. But as Desiree once said, "all I know is love will save the day." It holds true here as well.)

(OOC: DH canon spoilers and references here.)

Current Music: A Perfect Circle - Judith (Renholder Mix)

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

Garion, looking rather haggard, walks into the bar and starts peering around. Eventually, however, he finally just asks.

"Has anyone seen a pony?"

...well, it'd happened with his wife. Why not?

lady_moon

Moon is outside tonight.

And she isn't alone.

Mons and Mare play with their two remaining pups, Rigel and Mintaka. Moon runs and chases her wolf family, laughing and generally enjoying the early autumn weather.

Eventually, she tires and flops down in a patch of grass, giggling and watching the wolves romp and rough house.

Some nights, it's wonderful to be in the multiverse, and tonight was such a night for the tarot card.

sed-en-ta-ry.livejournal.com

There was a certain vampirate in the bar who didn't know that her door was back yet.
She had, for the time being, given up looking for it, she knew it would come back eventually and that was really all that mattered.

Just for the moment she was perched on the windowsill as she so often was, just watching the show. The dress was mint green, hemmed along collar and waist and skirt with slightly paler feathers, there was a reticule to match, and at the moment she was debating getting something to eat, turning the handle of the bag over and over in her fingers.

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

Annie stayed at the bar last night and slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted. It's not that she's not worried about Harry and Spoon. She learned long ago how to sleep even in the face of the worst worries imaginable, when her husband was on the run.

It might not necessarily be very good sleep, but it's sleep.

She's downstairs now, rubbing at her eyes and trying to ignore the fact that it got so late while she was sleeping that it's nearly suppertime. Perhaps someone will have some news.

obnoxiousadams.livejournal.com

And tonight, for your threading pleasure, we have a Founding Father in the bar!

He looks very relieved to have stumbled into Milliways on this fine, near-autumn evening, and even breathes a little sigh of relief.

He's been in Europe, y'see, doing important things that have slowly been seeming less and less important as time moves on.

So now, he and his cane and his newly obtained mug of ale (and that thing on his face -- what's it called again? a smile?) are making their way over to a table.

[ooc: Have gone off to bed, but slowtimes are ALWAYS welcome!]

will_scarlett

[OOM: Seasons turn till darkness returns again.]

mandercommander.livejournal.com

And there is a rather depressed kid sitting at the Bar. He's sitting there...moping, from the looks of it. Perhaps he needs someone to talk to?

guppy_sandhu

Guppy's pile of paperwork seems significantly diminished from yesterday. Which is always nice. And consequently the walk-in clinic is open.

The doctor is in

young_womble

Polishing service
Shoes: Five new pence per pair
Cutlery or silverwear: Two new pence per item
Other: Price negotiable according to size
Extra penny charge for sharp things.

Will also try and repair things (1970s or before)

For service, knock on table.

Wellington is sitting below his sign, repairing his tidy bag and staying mainly out of sight.

longlonghair

[[OOM: Rapunzel reflects on her feelings for Alex.]]

argyle_princess

[OOM: Ultimatum.]

taishar_malkier

In the Security office there's one note that makes Lan's face harden into stonier planes when he reads it.

That grimness stays through his afternoon's practice -- equal parts swordwork and prowling the grounds -- and is still there when he comes in for an evening in the bar. He always listens to the conversations and undercurrents here; he has more reasons than ever, these days.

"Tea and a meal, if you please," he requests from Bar, and gets another note with it.

One more person to keep his eyes open for, then.

paladinsuitsyou

Booth's still a little achey, all things considered. He doesn't look injured any more - most of the bruises have faded, and he's off the pain meds. He's been out of the hospital for a few days, and doing pretty well, all things considred. It's mostly just the spot where his tooth used to be that's bothering him. He's got a dentist appointment, but since he's rescheduled it a few times, that's not saying much.

So it's soft foods he's still eating - tonight, cottage cheese. Not his favorite, but at least it goes down easy.