milliways_bar | Oct. 16th, 2007

Oct. 16th, 2007

whoisnoman.livejournal.com

[OOM: Sadi seeks sanctuary.]

Sadi bursts in through the door, slamming it shut behind him. He leans against it, trying to catch his breath.

"Great Issa, what do I do now?" he mutters. His iridescent green robe is wrinkled and possibly donned hastily, and his usually ubiquitous red leather case is absent.

Without another word he sits in a bar stool, leaning against the bar and holding his head in his hands.

queenofmay

[OOM: Sometimes a headache is just a headache. Other times it's hint that your not yet prepared for all the world.

Such is life when your immune system gets shot. But things are never that simple, are they?

Often odd situations in Milliways tend to lure other odd situations to them; Wherein Marian has a strange and unexpected visitor come to make her time pass smoother, followed shortly after by a sweet, simple visitor she'd never send away (last still in progress). ]

rekka-no-ryo.livejournal.com

Patrons sitting near the door tonight might notice the sounds coming from the other side.

Sounds of a fight, apparently.

The door bursts open suddenly, and a young man in red armor comes through, with his twin katana drawn. He blinks at the sudden change of scenery, and turns just in time to see the door shut and disappear before his very eyes.

"...What the hell?" he says, keeping a defensive grip on his swords.

snapcrackleburn.livejournal.com

Roy's in the bar once again this evening, settled as usual near the fireplace where it's warm. He's having a cigarette and attending to some last-minute paperwork, though he doesn't seem to be overly concerned about completing the latter with any sort of haste. His jacket and gloves are uncharacteristically deposited on the sofa next to him, and on the whole he seem to be in a pretty good mood. This is unusual, given his tendency toward a serious frame of mind when handling even the most minute affairs of State these days.

Of course, if you'd had the evening that Roy Mustang has had, you'd probably be in a good mood as well. It's safe to say that the faint traces of perfume lingering on his clothing and the red smudges on the collar of his white dress shirt aren't things that the Fuhrer himself put there on purpose.

Old habits may die hard, but they do make for some damn good times.

weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com

Le Chiffre is multi-tasking today.

Whilst sitting at the bar in a usual suit, he's got a drink of water, some pasta thing that gets poked every now and then but not actually eaten, a deck of cards set out in the stepped layout of solitaire and every now and then he'll tap away at a laptop by his side and spare a few glances to a book sprawled out on the bar top.

Don't ask why he can't just play solitaire on the laptop unless you want rants about probability and mistrust in technology.

alien-bartender.livejournal.com

Last time I was in Milliways I'd taken one of the bar's signature coasters as a kind of souvenir. I had a suspicion that it was the coaster that let me get back into the place when I got to thinking about visiting again.

I'd had a pretty tough day back at the Draco Tavern. The latest chirpsithra liner had brought in a new species and we didn't have environmental equipment for them yet. We had to install some high-gravity simulators in a hurry, and we still hadn't worked out the problem of the zero-gee spots that seemed to pop up around them at random, causing problems for my staff and my customers.

So I was glad to get to a bar where I could relax and have a drink instead of serving them to people. Even if the bar was considerably stranger than mine. I sat down in one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace and had a rat bring me an Irish coffee.

gone_byebye

Ray did a bunch of research and some discussion with the other Ghostbusters last night, after bringing Tyler over to visit and get an idea of what his world was like. He also did some fiddling with desktop publishing software and the office's color printer, which is why he has such a lovely print-out of the Ark of the Covenant on the poster he tacks up to the message board.

Have You Seen This Ark?

The one in my world has been stolen from its previous resting place by a mentally unstable occult practitioner whose plans are at the current time unknown. If you have experience in such matters or would be interested in assisting with plans to recover said Ark before said practitioner does something really freaking stupid with it, please contact Dr. Raymond Stantz via the Bar.

Thank you.

The text is also printed in German, Russian, Latin, Greek, Aurebesh, and Sumerian, although the Sumerian is a little bit approximate since even Ray's level of fluency in the language doesn't quite cover 'freaking' as a word-for-word translation. Once the poster is up, Ray heads for Bar and drops off a note for

( Dr. Henry Jones, Jr. )

That done, Ray gets a bowl of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs and goes to look for a place to sit and eat breakfast.

royal-guarantor.livejournal.com

Roshaun still isn't quite convinced that this isn't some assassin's trick, or at least that the people who'd be happy to see him dead can't follow him here and act before anyone could stop them.

But at least he's eating, even if it's food from the Bar or what he sees prepared and nothing else, and sleeping relatively well, and starting to relax a little.

He's watching the room with more interest than wariness, now, though his attention is still too sharp to be purely casual.

blue-star-badge.livejournal.com

At the bar was a young man with an apron, on the bar in front of him was a wide array of bits and pieces, hard to say if he was putting something together or taking something apart, in any case he was certainly concentrating on it awfully hard, brow furrowed as he worked.

~~~

Over in a booth there was another young man, this one with a top hat and a pinstriped jacket. Apparently Clive had felt like getting dressed up, it was because he could feel the fall in the air, and fall meant one thing: Halloween.
That would probably be the reason for the small dishes of various candy, he was taste-testing while he sketched.

~~~

In another booth, in a different part of the bar, there was a young legend-goddess with a crate of jam jars. More than one, really, but for the moment she wasn't paying much attention to them, instead working on some beaded leaves humming to herself as she worked.

mago_sonriente

A busy looking man.

He makes his way to the bar and makes his order, not even taking the time to pat some of the dust and sand off of himself. He just needs a couple of minutes of air conditioning and a beer to keep himself mildly sane. That's all.

Things were relatively sane back at the camp, now. He'd brought a couple of people from the bar back to help out with things; the two ladies who'd been so helpful had been returned that night, but that didn't mean that the work was done. And to top things off, in all the hub-bub, he still hadn't managed to get to talk to Harry about things.

Hence beer and AC.

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: Rufus Wainwright - One Self I Sing [Movement I]

dean-o-dell.livejournal.com

Cyrus enters the Bar from outside, huffing and puffing (but not doing any damage to anything but his muscles). It seems he decided to go jogging for the first time in a long while. He's quick to recall why he came to loathe it, and why the only way he ever went was when Mindy nagged him. But he does need the exercise.

He stops at the Bar and orders a very tall glass of water, and takes a seat.

garbage-boy.livejournal.com

The Linguini at the bar is used to strange things happening, but usually they're happening around him as opposed to actually to his body (well, actually... okay, we're just talking about turning into things, here), so it's understandable that he's keeping an eye out for angry magicians or shooting beams of light. He still can't completely believe that nothing unusual would happen to accompany magic spells. There's gotta be at least incantations of some kind.

Fortunately, Bar is here to help, and has provided him with some reading material which was very thoughtful of her but a little embarrassing, so he isn't sure what the prudent thing would be to do with it. He'll just stare at it while he thinks about that.

firstmobile.livejournal.com

Almost as soon as I opened the door to the tavern, I could feel the deep wrongness around me of a place entirely alien. Lifting my eyes I caught my breath and hoped my face registered only mild surprise, rather than the momentary horror I actually felt. Quickly I reigned it in and tried instead to work out why there were so many…women here. No, no, that was being unfair; the fact that there were “men” and “women” here at all was what was discomfiting me.

I moved inside politely, shutting the door behind me against the sharp-biting wind gusting down the shadowy streets of Ehrenrang. The instant I was inside I began to bake, and pushed back the fur-lined hood of my hebe before I started to sweat. It was hot in here, unbelievably hot. I hadn’t been in a building this warm since I came to Gethen three years since. But looking around me, I felt my heart beginning to race with more than just the heat. I didn't see a single Gethenian in this tavern, and didn't recognize any of the Hainishnorm people as colleagues from the Ekumen. I had never seen any of them before.

I had the inescapable suspicion then that if I turned around and reopened the door, I would not find myself in Karhide once again.

This tavern had been suggested to me by one of my fellow Ekumen ambassadors as a good place to relax, accepting and casual, someplace to “get away” from my incessant work and constant worry. I was beginning to wonder if he had not misunderstood my needs; it was not Gethen I needed to get away from. This sudden reintroduction to Hanishnorm society would likely only make me uneasy.

But, I thought, it would be rude to leave now. So I quickly shucked off my outermost layer, wishing it could be the top three entirely, and hung it on the burgeoning coatrack near the door. Brushing my damp hair back from my face, I crossed to the bar and darted a glance around for a bartender, returning any smiles I received.

Current Music: "Tubular Bells" -- Mike Oldfield

red-valentine.livejournal.com

Wanda considers herself well-acquainted with nearly all the secret little shortcuts in her neighborhood, and consequently hardly pays attention to her route on the way home (save avoiding the ones that may get her purse-strings cut, of course). She's barely looking when she shoulders her way through a doorway which really ought to lead to an expansive, abandoned hallway in an old building she uses as a rain-free place to duck into on days like today, when the weather is poor. There is the risk of the occasional vagrant being present, but she's never been afraid of them.

And then she barely manages to avoid colliding with a chair. Once her balance is regained, she stares, frankly, at the bar proper.

"Oh," she starts, stops, and stares a a bit more before trying again, "Have--they done renovations?"

In the week and a half since she's been through what used to be a hallway, that's not likely. In another life, she might have dealt with this quite differently, but she's never had any experiences like this. Right?

poisonwine

Belle opens the door, coming in from a bright, sunny day in New Orleans. She is closely followed by Alex, and they both are talking animatedly.

Barely looking, they wind their way to the bar, each ordering a drink as they sit, and continue to talk.

Feel free to wander over and talk to them!

~~Two pups, two muns, twice the cracky fun~~

EDIT: All tags are assumed to be after the thread with Alex and Belle

fighter--pilot.livejournal.com

There are, in fact, other things to do in the bar than sleep. Like drink milkshakes. And poke at datapads.

But sleeping's a lot better, especially on that one really comfortable couch by the fire.

Shalla thinks so, at least.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Yesterday wasn't great, today is better. It's still quiet, but not that kind of quiet. Spoon's got Shakespeare open in front of him and is contently working on his translations. It became a hobby while he was stuck in Dardania, and now that he's got access to the actual texts he's going through and making fair copies of everything in Greek.

He plans on giving them to Geoffrey when next that man shows up.

will_scarlett

After Guppy yelled loudly at Atton and Will, Will emerges from the infirmary and finally gets his drink, then goes to sit by the fire.

Most of the blood is cleaned off, but he's got some really impressive bruises on the way, but there is ale which helps things. Also from here he can watch the door to see if Molly's returned yet.

tristranthorn

[OOM: In Sherwood, Tristran and Yvaine help Will Scarlett retrieve the tax, but skilled guards are too much for some - especially where heroics are involved. With that done, there are injuries to deal with - luckily, there are fellow Milliways-ers, such as Sariel, to help.]

The door opens in a disappointingly undramatic sort of way, but two rather familiar and roughed up individuals come through. One of them, a certain Tristran Thorn, is injured; his shoulder and arm are very efficiently bandaged but blood is still slowly soaking through. He's all right though - or, he will be. Unfortunately, he isn't feeling very good and is hardly receptive to the environment around him.

With her arm around him, murmuring words of worry and words of chiding, Yvaine helps him into the bar space. She is going for the stairs and to their room; neither of them seem to be thinking right now of doctors.

visible_sariel

OOM. In Will's world, Sariel lends a hand to the outlaws of Sherwood, and gets quite a bit more than she bargained for along the way.

A second ago, the door opened on dappled green and fading battle, and two people came through. A heartbeat later, a somewhat disheveled Sariel Rager steps in and makes it three.

She's not paying the attention she might normally as the door swings shut behind her; she's crossing to Bar on boots smudged with forest soil and lifting something in her right hand by the very furthest of one end, the better to lay it on the counter. the knife vanishes in the next second, and to say Sariel looks anything but relieved as she watches it go would be a lie.

Both hands and one of her dress's sleeves are smeared with blood, though it doesn't appear that any of it's hers; she looks shaken and tired, but not visibly injured. dark eyes scan the room for Tristan and Yvaine, for any of the others who'd gone along, for anyone she knows. If this were a routine mission coming to a close, she'd have a superior to report to. But it isn't, and she hasn't.

and she's at a rather frayed loose end, say true.

[Warnings for violence and whitetext references to canon doom in the above OOM.]

1st_starfighter

[OOM: All good things come to an end... After a most remarkable evening, Alex finds himself tripping through the Door, and back home for the first time in months... and things get complicated.]

dr_temperance

Brennan is having a week.

1. Confront immortal agent of the Light about his personality flaws: Check.

2. Fitting for her maid-of-honor dress for Angela and Jack’s wedding: Check.

3. Identify the body of the young woman who had been found at the bottom of a flooded foundation: Check.

4. Spend time with fugitive father who is in town, brazenly expecting his assumed identity to protect him from incarceration: Check.

And the week isn’t over yet.

Which goes a long way toward explaining why she’s slumped in a chair near the hearth with a larger cup of coffee than usual.

realmrsreynolds

There is a rancher lady, with silver-white hair.

It's dinner-time, and with Jack off taking care of business back on Shadow, she's decided to not cook for the evening.

It's a shock, I know.

The only problem is, she realizes as she sits down at a table, that she doesn't know what she'd order.

velocitygirl

Inyri doesn't smoke on Coruscant. Wes believes that she's stopped, and she's got no inclination to show him otherwise.

She smokes here though...tucked just next to the door outside, wrapped in a flight jacket, cigarette weaving smoke through the air.

She's tried to stop, countless times, but it's never taken hold. She craves the taste too much (she's always craving something...something stronger...something deadlier) and eventually just gives in.

First one to tell her she's killing herself slowly gets punched in the mouth.

candied-rabbit.livejournal.com

Momiji is trying to look older.

It isn't so much that he dislikes being taken for someone much younger than he actually is or even that recent conversations seem to have reinforced this misconception. It's...a sort of experiment, really, to see what it's like. Because he can totally handle being as mature as any sixteen year old, right?

As such, his schoolgirl outfit and flowing shirts and short shorts have been replaced for the moment by a pair of jeans and a t-shirt - standard teen-wear, except for the fact that the jeans are for girls and the t-shirt emblazoned with a rosy, floral print that runs out from the chest and down the arms. The stuff Bar had offered at first had been so plain, almost like something that Kyo would wear.

With the wardrobe issue handled, now, though, he's sitting at a bar stool, perfectly still. His back is rigidly straight, and he's fighting off the urge to glance all around and observe all the interesting people at the Bar, lest the temptation to scamper off excitedly hit him. He is, in fact, dealing with a major flaw in his experimental plan.

Namely, he has no idea what mature teenagers are supposed to do.

the-grayman.livejournal.com

Allen's running low on money.

He posts up a message on the message board in the bar room:

1 Bound Bargoer looking 4 odd jobs

has good fighting skills
is a practised ~~akro~~acrobat
is good at all kinds of household chores
has been aprentice to the most demanding man in all of England

please help!

Thank you,
Allen Walker

He plays solitare next to the pool table. If he can't get a job, he'll absolutely take a good poker game.

Although he probably wouldn't make a good secretary with his writing skills.

synapse-circuit.livejournal.com

Security member on duty.

J.C.'s sitting at one end of the Bar. He appears to be surveying the room the way he usually does, and he is. But only part of his mind's actually engaged in watching.

The other part is trying to think up the best way for him to tell a certain woman that he likes her. And subsequently ask her out on a date, or something like one. He hasn't come up with anything suitable yet because he's never been very (any) good at this.

1st_starfighter

[OOM: The Last Starfighter - In which Alex finds himself on one incredible adventure. Spoilers for The Last Starfighter.]

argyle_princess

Hannah has coffee and chocolate chip cookies and the air of someone who can't quite figure out what to do with herself. She can't quite settle on any of the things she could be doing -- homework, college brochures, magazines -- so she's mostly just watching the bar go by.

She could probably be persuaded to share the cookies.

missginnytonic.livejournal.com

Ginny is just sitting here, has been for a bit. Sipping on a butterbeer, having escaped from the current hide out. She truly did love her family but, she was tired of spending so much time with them.

That leaves her in the bar, at a table. She is clearly not doing anything. Would love company.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is by the infirmary, looking fidgetty and eying a copy of the local newspaper like it just bit him and is thinking of doing it again.

***

Snowball is out back, taking a rest from gardening.

***

Wellington Womble is sitting under a barstool with his bucket of myserious 'plopping' mud stuff.

Now and again, after consulting various books around him, he puts leaves and moss and things in it, and gives it a stir.

***

John Steed is also out back, attempting to play miniature golf into a set of flower pots. A game that he will gladly welcome company in.

dead-comrade.livejournal.com

((OOM: Jack considers his situation and decides, unsurprisingly, it sucks. But he has a mission to finish.))

Jack in the bar, doing nothing more sinister than sharpening his knife and quietly observing the people around him.

Okay, so it's still pretty sinister when he does it. But not intentionally so! His body language is comfortable, and the set of his shoulders not particularly hostile.

scrmifthishurts

We're not sure why she choices to do this at this time of year. Not that she doesn't do this every chance she gets but still... it's chilly. And she doesn't bother with a coat. Just her normal clothing. There's a bag sitting by her feet and it looks heavy. Whether it is or not is a whole other story but we can take a wild guess and say that it is.

Either way she has her bow on hand and she's just now notching another arrow. Do try not to stop in the way of that. After all, her target is tacked to a tree... and we really don't need any accidental bloodshed. Not right now anyway. And not by her.

dingdongdoodily.livejournal.com

After a quick pit stop back home for a new piece of metal shoved through his anatomy, Pickles returned to the bar, and tenderly dropped himself into a chair to read the paper. He was, for once, drinking something that didn't have a proof count.

Botherable, but insomuch that he's not exactly taking the pain happily.

aka-casanova.livejournal.com

Giovanni is out behind the bar, out of the direct line of sight of the back door, trying to practise dancing.

He doesn't think anyone's watching. Especially when he trips over a rock and nearly falls in the lake.

Care to disillusion him?

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

[OOM: In an attempt to make each other less guilty about various things, Atton and Will beat each other up and yell a lot. It works surprisingly well. Healing of various broken bones and a discussion on a lot of different stuff follows.]

Atton and Will half-walk, half-stumble into the bar, making a beeline for the Bar and ordering drinks.

Neither of them, apparently, see anything unusual about having a lot of blood on their faces, hands and shirts (and, in Will's case, hair) or about all the rapidly forming bruises. Obviously, these are a secondary concern to acquiring to alcohol.

Botherable.

[Is two muns and two pups.]