milliways_bar | Sep. 30th, 2007

Sep. 30th, 2007

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

Formal wear is entirely inappropriate for dangerous missions, so Sam and Atton have both changed out of it and into their normal clothes.

They head downstairs and for the door, chatting quiet, but animatedly, Sam with a long bag slung over his shoulder and Atton with his usual array of guns and pointy objects on his person.

They pause, as Atton writes a quick note.

( To people who are interested. )

With that done, Atton opens the door to the sound of a ship's engines, letting Sam through before heading through himself, closing the door behind him.

[Millitimed to after Sarah Jane Smith and James Bond's wedding.]

dingdongdoodily.livejournal.com

What the heck is up with all the guitarists in the bar today?

It must be Guitar Week or something.

Well, this one, by the name of Pickles, was chillin' in front of the fireplace, strumming away, only stopping to take a drink or write something in his pocket notebook.

His hair was up in a bandanna so it wouldn't get in his eyes.

He might just be waiting for a certain poet to happen by, but who knows such things?

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

[ OOM: In which Le Chiffre has a day outside of Milliways and nearly scares Skinner to death. ]

twiceahero.livejournal.com

Barbara is sitting at her usual table with her usual cup of coffee. What is a bit unusual is how distracted she appears to be. Normally she's paying careful, if unobtrusive, attention to everything going on around her. Today, however, she simply sits with her head propped in her hand with the coffee cooling in front of her. Pondering.

If she were her future self would she really engage in data manipulation for the express purpose of provoking action from her past self? That was an easy one: of course she would. The question was, could she figure out if that was the case, and if so, what alterations were made. Or was she just being paranoid?

killitwithfire

The sun is bright outside, but not very warm, anymore. Neither is the breeze coming off the mountains.

There's a faint scowl on Axel's face; this might be the last time he's outside until the weather warms up again, because while his coat is plenty warm enough (for now, anyway), it doesn't mean he likes cold weather.

Still, the sun is nice.

((ooc: More tags are welcome, but all threads will be millitimed to before the Rani's.))

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

[ Sandford, December 25, 1967: Introducing Simon Skinner, age 17. ]

lifes-a-river.livejournal.com

He reads Shakespeare in French.

Just the soliloquies, of course.

"Être ou n'être pas: voilà la question."

Or just the first lines of the soliloquies, rather. He isn't quite proficient enough to translate the whole thing on his own and he doesn't have a library card so he couldn't take the translation home with him. (Luckily, Jane Fedley's too crazy about the mere idea of having him as a student at Rosmere to bother actually quizzing him extensively on his claim, or asking his teachers to do it for her.) And he has the nagging suspicion that his accent is lacking, a kind of insistent tickle in his ear letting him know that something is off-kilter.

"Être ou n'être pas: voilà la question."

Better, somewhat. At least now it sounds like he's trying.

By this point he's forgotten to be self-conscious; he's no longer reciting in controlled whispers but aloud, his feet, in their sparkly, raspberry-colored maryjanes (the hem of his black uniform pants aren't sufficiently long enough to hide them), pulled up underneath him on the chair.

walksthebounds

Jamie's got a slew of brightly colored markers, acquired from the bar, and some large posterboard at a table.

The poster currently reads: "JUST CAUSE YOU'RE BOUND YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE BORED. PERSONALIZE YOUR ROOM WITH CUSTOM ART!" This is written in moderately decent handwriting in an eye-burning array of colors. As far as advertising goes, Jamie thinks, the important thing is to get people's attention.

He's hefting a bright orange marker now, considering what to add next. (There's a basket of chips next to him, which he is doing his best to keep an appropriate distance from Business.)

cloakandclaw

( Before. )

The door opens an inch, maybe two. No more than that. Just enough for a ragged cloak the color of fresh blood to wind its way around it, through the opening, and it lingers there, playing in the air for a long slow moment. The cloak dances and swirls, its beat immeasurable and silent, before it glides into the room and circles once, twice, a third time. Between ankles and shoes, calves, feet, it glides without a sound and then, finding an opening, hovers before it darts up through the gap and settles on a rafter.

That's better: it always helps to have a vantage point in any new situation. The cloak ruffles gently, taking on an entirely human form, partially clad in what might look to be a few pieces of armor but mostly in black. A holster strapped to the human's right thigh holds a triple-barreled gun, but it stays tucked safely away. This... is not Seventh Heaven.

In fact, it doesn't appear to be anything remotely akin to a heaven of any kind. It is, however, a going concern, with all make and manner of people in it. For a few minutes he makes no move to come down from the rafters; he takes his time assessing the situation from his perch above. But then he does leap down, a graceful soft-landing dance that belies the heaviness within, and stands in the room breathing in and out: acclimatizing, sensing, listening.

Not for the first time, he has no idea where he might be.

bartletstrust.livejournal.com

Bartlet's started to look upon this as an extended vacation. He has never had a problem with finding ways to keep
busy, with or without work. With a chance to meet people from all over the universe, complaints of boredom are
the last thing he'd think of.

Today, he's out of doors. Someone mentioned that there's a stable here, and a forge. He's enough of an animal lover to have had his interest piqued.
So he's on his way toward the buildings that had been pointed out to him.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Spoon does not have his (other) right arm with him. He does have the diagram of how to wire the bones back together, but not the arm itself. He's just going to keep looking this over so that he'll have a better chance of getting it right later.

He's also got a pack of dogs and a glass of beer. Somehow beer seems appropriate for the moment.

is-out-there.livejournal.com

[OOM: Away from Milliways, Mulder muses on his recent observations, and the idea of being able to visit a bar at the end of the universe.]

Mulder is dressed down today, in keeping with the falling temperatures. He takes a seat in a booth, against the wall, his light sweater drawn up close to his chin. A cup of steaming coffee rests to his left, and he's flipping idly through a book. The Master Painters: Selected Works.

'Flipping idly' being the operative words; he wouldn't mind a distraction.

cheevy.livejournal.com

This afternoon there is a grumpy-looking hippie curled up next to the fireplace. Or... he's grumpy-looking if you get close enough to see past what otherwise looks like a pair of bellbottomed legs with a book (The Scarlet Pimpernel) balanced on the knees. He's slumped down rather low against the wall with a large box of tissues next to him.

The reason for his more than usual state of visible almost-sulk has to do with the fact that autumn has decided to turn up and torture him. Yes, seasons can totally be malicious when you're allergic to them. Thus, every so often, the curled up heap of hippie sneezes -- managing to do so in a way that can really only be described as cute, being no louder than a little tch! sound. He'll make up for it by whining loudly to anyone who happens by before the sun sets, which is usually when things get better. The used tissues get lobbed into the fire. At some point, a thoughtful rat comes over with tea (the concept of "tea" in relation to Miniver being really a substance much more akin to steamed, flavored milk).

But allergies aside, he is otherwise content with the world. And for good reason. He'll tell you about that, too. Once he gets over whining.

mendanddefend_archive

So last night, Bob and Dot met up with Garion, and he did them a little favor.

Now, Bob's in the bar, looking considerably less digital than usual, sipping on a milkshake and thumbing through a brochure from the San Francisco Visitor's Information Center.

Current Mood: adjusting

aka-casanova.livejournal.com

Giovanni's been exploring, for the last few days. Mostly he's been investigating the upstairs area, wandering for hours and trying to get his bearings up there. (This is difficult when the corridors keep moving).

He thinks he's got as far as he's going to with that now, and so the outside beckoned. He's sitting on a low tree branch, watching the horses in the paddock for their exercise.

He could get used to this place.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Wellington won't wait much longer. He's a man who expects to be obeyed, and the summons came almost a month ago already.

Sharpe's going to go - that was never really in doubt - he's just been putting off the departure. But that means he has to find someone to care for the children as soon as possible. Within a day or two, if possible, and then he can be on his way before Wellington decides to send him an escort.

He's got Patrick and Dominique with him today, as well as Danny the hunting dog, and he's looking for a few faces in particular. He'll talk to anyone else before he finds them, though.

royal-guarantor.livejournal.com

There's a rather happier Wellakhit princeling in the bar this afternoon. He met a wizard. And yes, it was a Demisiv, not one of his own people, but wizards are wizards and they're all supposed to be family anyway. More importantly, wizards don't lie. A wizard is the only person he'd believe without question.

Filif told him the Bar can be trusted, and told him in the Speech to boot, so that means it's true. That's why Roshaun took the lollipop she gave him just now without hesitation.

He's eating it with some enjoyment, surveying the room.

smart-house.livejournal.com

A steel door, sometimes in the bar and sometimes not, appears again next to her written affidavit of safety from a Milliways-renowned parapsychologist. 'SARAH', as that affidavit names her, lets that steel door swing open wide, and it only takes a few seconds for a computerized woman's voice to be broadcast over the bar-wide sound system.

"Hello, Milliways. Today I am hosting a football party -- Philidelphia Eagles playing against the New York Giants. There are no commercials; I've picked up a pre-network satellite feed of the game. It doesn't start for another hour, but if you would like to claim a seat early, please stop by. If coming later, please bring any snacks you might like and a chair or cushion. There is plenty of space for everyone. Thank you."

Now it's wait and see, but SARAH is optimistic. Who doesn't like sports*?

*Now now, SARAH is completely aware that there are some people who do not like sports. She is just hoping they are grossly outnumbered here.

ETA: There is an AIM Chat! Chat name: milliball

What you may have missed in the game.

visible_sariel

OOM. On the Enterprise, Sariel has a not at all unwelcome surprise sprung on her by a certain best friend. It leads to a decision that's easier made than followed through on, to say the least.

Rated B for bouncy engineers, S for shiny new pins and U for unrequited attraction.

landlesslord

[OOM: Where Guy is jealous of a horse, and Marian receives a nice surprise.]

command_dot_com

There is a sprite at one of the tables, what's interesting about this tonight is that yesterday this sprite chose to become a human to get some well earned vacation time. right now she's sitting down and reading through a small how to guide on how to make fake driver's licenses.

See, in Suzi's world they don't have any real identities, so having a pair of fake driver's licenses would come in really handy for some of the places they're going to end up stopping at. Which is why she's got a notebook full of information and a Polaroid disposable camera next to her as well as a big tray of chili-cheese fries. So far, she's adjusting really well to being a human and having biology.

Come say hi!

Current Mood: content

aggro-speed.livejournal.com

This is Brian.

He is bloodier than usual, because usually, he is not bloody at all. He looks pretty good, overall, although his sneakers are scuffed and his clothing dirty.

The blood's apparently coming from the back of his head; he's got a hand clamped there, anyway. He stumbles in looking tense, wearing only t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and there's a clean pocketknife in one hand.

He looks at the bar with relief, snapping the pocketknife shut and reaching over a table (and quite possibly a patron's head) for some napkins.

Be nice to Brian! Or mock his pain. Or try to sell him something.

[[OOC: New threads Millitimed pre-Spoon.]]

badinlatin

Apparently, Mal has competition.

The specials sign?

Football is boring. Come to Happy Hour! Drinks half-off.

That should do it.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

OOM: Before Wells comes back there is a phone call from a worried student.

bringonthewonder

Angela needed a break. From life. From corpses.

From proposals.

And what better place than the end of the universe to get away from it all?

She's sketching something (still pretty formless), and watching patrons go by.

scurlock

Doc has no idea how this happened. He'd just walked through the bar (and pushed a wayaward chair into a table so nobody would trip) and then headed up to his room. It was when he was reaching the stairs the room that he felt the change.

Oh no, not this again...please not a woman...

...

What the. Why is everything so BIG?! Why does he have...paws and fur and omigodhalp!

If anyone is paying attention, there is a blonde prarie dog (with lovely blonde fur, so very soft) attempting to find a place to hide and not get stepped on!

garbage-boy.livejournal.com

Linguini has never before had any reason to suspect that any weird alien diseases or anything similar could follow him from Milliways back to his home universe. Or, more specifically, it just never occurred to him.

The things that have recently occurred to him have been a bit on the weird side, and when he decided it would be a very good idea to hide his food in a hole in a tree that not even he would be able to find later he started suspecting strange things might be afoot.

And, Milliways, the very tiny, very alarmed-looking someone escaping from a pile of clothes that it could have been making a nest out of (or, if we didn't know better, wearing not too long ago) doesn't know what it did to you, but is very sorry and hopes you're even now.

The bottom of the food chain is very becoming on Sciurus linguinis, if the narrative may say so.

[ooc: slowtimes will probably be imminent, as EPing could not possibly be lower on the list of things I should be doing right now, but I couldn't resist.]

thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com

Now this... was weird.

See, he'd been on his way across the bar from home, and had leaned against that chair over there to knock a rock out of the tread of his shoe, then he'd gone upstairs to change and had gotten distracted by something shiny.

Nothing new there.

When he was finally undistracted however, was when he realized that he was a lot closer to the ground than he used to be, even standing upright. Right, this bore investigation, which meant that he'd have to go back downstairs again. Wow the stairs hadn't ever looked that tall before but he managed, leaning against the railing when he got to the bottom, leaning forward and sniffing, OMG SHINY!

Watch your shinies folks, the gentleman thief is just a little less descerning today.

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

[OOMs:

After several hours of journey, Atton and Sam arrive on Frago IX and are met with odd creatures, corpses and an assassin droid. After a brief scuffle, they're pursued by Mutant-Things.

The next morning, there are Sithy conversations and elsewhere, Sam and Atton go to visit the Resistance.

Naturally, this leads to cunning subterfuge.

Once that's done, they go down to the planet's surface.

Villainous re-kidnapping follows, and as Atton and Sam return to the city, they find that there's a little apocalypse problem.

In the end, they find that apples really do help your health, among other things.]

cmdr_sir_samuel

Sam has been around. No, really. You just haven't seen him much. It's nothing to do with his mun being utterly lame and everything to do with him not feeling very sociable at the moment. His current demeanour probably conveys this quite well - he's sitting at the bar with a coffee in front of him, smoking a cigar. He has that look about him. You know, the one you see in movies when cops sit at a bar and drink themselves into oblivion while a bartender looks on sympathetically while polishing a glass. The only difference is, he's just...choosing to forgo the alcohol at the moment.

Oh, and there's no bartender. But if someone else wants to look on sympathetically, that would be fine. With or without a glass.

spins-magic.livejournal.com

There's a small girl in a long black dress and veil sitting at a table in the middle of the bar. By rights she should probably be quite a sad sight, but there's a smile of cautious delight on her face as she watches various patrons in turn.

Sandry hadn't told anyone at home about stumbling into this odd place. For one thing, she doubted anyone would believe her, even in a place as full of magic as Winding Circle. And for another, it's rather nice to have a secret all of her own.

She's brought her workbasket with her this time, and is setting an occasional stitch or two in a piece of embroidery in between spying out the people around her.

nita_callahan

The dilemma of the high school wizard: tedious physics homework, or tedious physics wizardries?

Nita is sitting at a table, gazing undecided between her manual and her textbook.

Eventually, manual wins (lunch hours are for homework, right?). She pulls out a notebook and pen, and starts making notes in the Speech. Occasionally she refers to the manual, bringing up this diagram in 3-D or checking that conjugation.

oh-wowee.livejournal.com

Well, this is different.

Toki didn't realize he'd always been so small, fuzzy, and winged before.

He also finds it entirely possible that Bar is playing another trick.

Please don't squish him, he's a harmless sort of bumblebee!

uksupercop.livejournal.com

As of yet, Nicholas is blissfully unaware of any critter-related shenanigans. He's simply sitting at a table eating dinner and reading the paper from home.

Out of sheer habit, he's scanning every article for typographical errors.

[ooc: not plotlocked, but slowtime is inevitable.]

dingdongdoodily.livejournal.com

Apparently, something odd happened while Pickles was taking a nap at the fireplace. He'd likely brushed up against a chair on his way over to relax with Miniver.

But he woke up with a sneeze and a shake of his head, and realized a moment later that, hey, his teeth were a lot pointier than usual.
And quite possibly his entire mouth.

Confused Pickles stands up and realizes that he's standing on all fours, and is quite fluffy. He dashes off to the bathroom, and using the sink to hold himself up by two paws(?!) and looks at himself in the mirror.

He yelps and runs off back to the fireplace to look for Miniver.
THIS IS BAD NEWS! BAD BAD NEWS!

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm is once again at the bar, still working his way through a stack--slightly larger now--of the Eyewitness Guide to Philadelphia from several different worlds. He's decided to stick with the 2000 editions, since the city would be about the same as when he left it, but there would be no danger of his running into another world's Malcolm Crowe (or at least, he hopes that's the case).

It's been surprisingly hard to settle on Philadelphia in particular, though. At first, he figured that if a world actually had an Eyewitness Guide, then it's probably not that much different from the others (unlike, say, the worlds where everything is post-apocalyptic, or dinosaurs still reign, or something else that has put a damper on the publication of travel guides).

But, of course, now that he's actually reading some of these things, the differences are proving much more interesting than he expected.... And isn't that just Milliways for you.

dats-dildoes.livejournal.com

There was a certain chair that seemed to be getting a lot of action tonight.

Sometime earlier a thoroughly inebriated guitarist had stumbled into it, totally gracefully, on his way across the bar.

The incident had been forgotten when he'd fallen asleep on the couch. In fact, it had probably been forgotten before that, but whatever.

In any case, there's a tiger asleep on the couch now, rather awkwardly wearing a t-shirt and boots and belt and the remains of some pants, tail switching now and again as he dreamed.

wheelsy_sheriff

There is a startled trilling sound coming from a booth. A booth Bill Pardy had settled in just a few minutes before.

That startled trilling turns into a angry chortle and a crazed raccoon jumps up from the booth onto the table.

Crazed, not rabid. It is probably safe to say the raccoon is quite mad though, what with the gestures and growls that would be curses if Bill were able to speak English in this form.

missginnytonic.livejournal.com

Ginny sits down at a table then orders from a waitrat. When the waitrat comes back and sips her coke it don't taste right, Walking to the bar she leans over waiting a moment to make sure the waitrat didn't mess up. She sits on a stool then all the sudden, she's feeling weird.

Looking down she sees Fur, What those looks like a paws. She tries to talk to someone letting out a word.

"MEOW"

Uh Oh, This can't be good.