Nov. 3rd, 2007

howling_laugh: (Default)
[personal profile] howling_laugh
[OOM: Three.]


Coyote steps into the bar with a bag over one shoulder, and a shotgun carried carefully in one hand. She holds the door open for Raguel, then leans the gun against the wall long enough to light a cigarette.

"A drink, Angel?"
nolongerhunted: (Default)
[personal profile] nolongerhunted
She's been a bit restless lately. More so than usual. But that doesn't stop her from heading down into the bar and having a waitrat get her a glass of orange juice and a grilled cheese. Once she has those items she goes and curls up in a chair.

Distractions are good. After all, she's only got her food and a book beside her. Though she might head up to get her sketchpad in a bit.
[identity profile] stuck-mynock.livejournal.com
Jaq doesn't go outside, often. The idea of being able to see the sun is an unnerving one, if also intriguing - He's more used to there being something blocking his view.

Night is different. Although the concept of day and night is somewhat meaningless in the lower levels of Coruscant, night out by the lake reminds Jaq of nights on his homeworld, tagging along with an older cousin to watch the nerf graze in the hills closest to his home. Reminiscing is a surprisingly pleasant pastime.

Thus, Jaq is sitting out by the lake, looking abnormally cheerful, meticulously putting together a machine of some sort, out of the little parts of other machines that he found lying around in the waste disposal unit.

Botherable.
[identity profile] benloserz.livejournal.com
There is a girl ensconed in a booth, with a hot cocoa and a book. She is not totaly comfortable there, but the idea of spending a week hiding in a bedroom is not attractive at all.

Not the least bit.

Anyway, she is trying to relax, enjoy her reading, and believe nothing bad will happen.
iambetadraconis: (Default)
[personal profile] iambetadraconis
[OOM: At long last, Rabastan figures out who's behind the mess in the UK. Turning to anlikely source in an effort to head Rodolphus off at the pass, only to be given a rejection that at least comes with some kind of tip, he heads off to Sheffield, where Rodolphus is stalking the town. There's a struggle, which doesn't last long, because some kind of divine intervention intervenes divinely (who it is you'll just have to guess at). He wakes up back in the cave he was in when he first started, where he (audibly at least) meets his benefactor(s), who tell him what's become of Rodolphus. Or, well, they kinda tell him. It doesn't matter really. Everything's fine again.


And on a side note, this trip through canon marks Rodolphus' retirement from Milliways. For a plot!pup, he had a pretty interesting run, but now the book of his life as it pertains to the Bar at the End of the Universe is closed and so he's moving on. Perhaps to some other place or time. Who knows?


PS: Rabastan is now back to regular activity here in Milliways.]
mycursedface: (Default)
[personal profile] mycursedface
[OoM: Today is not a good day.

Warning - contains violence both real and imagined, and references to past rape]
mycursedface: (Default)
[personal profile] mycursedface
Today is, it has been said, not a good day. Which is why when Medusa finally gives in to Milliways appearing (after two openings of the door and backing away), she keeps her head down and heads straight for the back door.

Her snakes are still today, mostly - no chattering, just still, still, still.

And it's cold outside, but it's outside, and the Gorgon finds a rock by the lake high enough to accomodate her wings and just sits there, knees hugged to her chest and gazing out over the water.
[identity profile] no-sin-but.livejournal.com
Marlowe may or may not actually be in a good mood when he walks down into the Bar. It is hard to tell with the playwright, but a good mood might just be there.

Of course, there is also that ever-ready sarcasm, but he may tone it down.

Or he may not.

Still, he is spending more time watching the Window than reading, so chances are that he wouldn't mind conversation.

Bartending!

Nov. 3rd, 2007 11:40 am
watching_you: (Default)
[personal profile] watching_you
[OOM: In which Veronica volunteers to bartend and search for Mike's body, in no particular order.]

They don't teach gun flair at the FBI academy, which in Veronica's mind, is a shortcoming of the program.

They don't teach gun anything to their summer interns, of course, but this is beside the point.

And just as there seems, to Veronica, to be little point in having a gun if you can't wave and spin it around in creative ways, there seems to be little point in manning a bar if you can't do fun things with the bottles. Which is to say, be wary of ordering beer if it's not from a keg.

On the board behind the bar, she's scrawled:

Specials
Agent Orange
Crime of Passion
Clueless


A bottle of vodka makes a wobbly half-spin in her hands, as she beams up at the bar.

"Happy hour's open for business. Who's thirsty?"



[OOC: BRB SHOWER. Will pick up tags when I get back! Returned!]
[identity profile] dingdongdoodily.livejournal.com

Pickles strolled in, fully prepared for exactly what came to him.
A goofy looking hat appeared on his head, and a cupcake with little drum-shaped sprinkles on it in his hand.

"Glad you remembered." He grumbled, sitting down and taking a bite of the cupcake. "Oo, chocolate cherry!"

Otherwise? Pickles in a bar, nothin' fancy, nothin' fancy.

scurlock: (Default)
[personal profile] scurlock
After being turned into Poe's Raven for Halloween, part of Doc wants to stay hidden up in his room for the good part of the evening, since so far he's never quite had anything bad happen to him up there. But the stables need to be checked on and he did sign up for a bartending shift that night, so after the sun has gone down outside and the work is done, he heads in and for the Bar.

"Howdy, Mike," he murmurs, giving the bartop a gentle pat before he goes to find the book for drinks. He takes a moment to get used to where everything is (though he's sure someone's going to ask for something he's clueless on, but you take what you can get) and then grabs the chalk and writes up on the board:

Tonight's Specials

Black & Tan
Kick yer Ass Sas

The Margaritini
(Homegrown in Milliways!)


He sets the chalk down and then dusts his hands off, pours himself a glass of water and opens up a bag of pretzels. Into a bowl, onto the bartop, and he thinks he's ready.

Come by and grab a drink, Milliways!

[ooc: Obviously after the Happy Hour bartending post a few down. :)]
[identity profile] last-the-month.livejournal.com
[When the dogs die the vampires arrive]

Eben had to leave when the door came back. He didn't bother leaving a note, he expected his bout of temporary insanity to be...well...temporary.

So when he walks through the door of the Ikos diner and realizes that he's not in John and Lucy's diner but back in that weird bar, he does a double take before shaking his head and dropping into a seat at the bar.

The observant will notice that he has faint traces of...red on his parka and across his chest.

The superior will notice that he smells like...dead dog.

He slumps a little in his seat, leaning across the bar as he orders a glass of water.

Bother?
[identity profile] tom-lefroy.livejournal.com
Tom had been on his way to the courthouse this fine afternoon, when he enters the bar proper. After leaving the first time, he had expected never to see here again, but in an attempt to prove that this entire experience had not, in fact, been a dream, he had been idly carrying one of the napkins he'd picked up from here wherever he goes, like a silly token.

Today, dressed in his lawyer attire - complete with silly white-powdered wig (that which does not completely cover the brown hair beneath it) - he takes a step further into the still bright, still quaint space which proves that this is not a dream at all (nor is it some hallucination, considering he is very much sober at the moment). It is exactly as he remembered it.

The bar, then, is quite real - and quite a welcomed distraction of sorts as well, considering he did not want to go to the court hearings today.
[identity profile] shewasright.livejournal.com
[ OOM: A few weeks ago the former Umbrella computer tech had help figuring out how to keep the T-virus from spreading (still in progress). Having not emerged from his room since Halloween Alice goes to investigate to discover things weren't as picture perfect as they seemed. ]

Saturday- at least that's what the calander Kap had aquired earlier said it was. Three days since Halloween and being stuck in an awful Umbrella Centurian uniform with its just as worse helmet. In reality it had been that long since he was last in the commons while looking very much less pale than he was before. Alice was to thank mostly for that.

At a table towards the back of the room Chad has managed to get something aside from raw burger to eat- whatever it was has been devoured so he nurses a cup of coffee instead. He stares at the little computer screen infront of him while scrowling through some sorts of files. Currently he doesn't look to pleased with what he's found.

Anyone is welcome to drop by or take a peek over his shoulder.
gone_byebye: (Default)
[personal profile] gone_byebye
[OOM: Epilogue. On the Day of All Souls, the Ghostbusters receive a visitor no one ever expected.]

Ray walks through the door of the Bar shaking his head. "Okay," he says to no one in particular, "that was weird even by my standards." He flags down one of the rats and orders a Moon Shot before retreating to one of the tables, settling back, and putting up his feet.

He'll take them off the table if someone complains.
bringonthewonder: (Default)
[personal profile] bringonthewonder
Angela is back from her non-honeymoon, back at work, and (at the moment), back in Milliways, with a cup of coffee and a sketchpad.

There's been a lot to catch up on in DC. She wonders how much there is to catch up on here.
[identity profile] kittehnpip.livejournal.com
Okay, so it's a quarter after seven. Sue me.

The Laugh-Out-Loud Cats have been busy this week. Kitteh, in a rare effort to lead Pip on to bigger and better things, has been teaching the smaller cat to read and write. So far, Pip has only mastered one word.

Which is why he's currently writing the word "PIP" with a paintbrush on every available surface. (Given Pip's stature, "every available surface" means "every surface less than 3 feet from floor level.")

It's not vandalism, it's self-promotion.
[identity profile] dust-to-order.livejournal.com
Security shift!

Mutant, badge, watchful and minimalist.
Check!
[identity profile] night-hibiscus.livejournal.com
Yuna slumps into the bar, sopping wet and streaked with dirt and mud. Years of posture admonitions from Lulu are giving way under the weight of her sodden sleeves and her staff. There are scratches on her face and her bare upper arms, and she's entirely given up on the smell of singed hair that hangs around her like a cloud.

There's a fixed lack of expression on her face that doesn't give an inch as she drops into a chair. She doesn't order anything, but accepts a cup of tea a waitrat brings her.

Cursed, cursed Thunder Plains.
walksthebounds: (Default)
[personal profile] walksthebounds
Jamie's been looking at the door a little more curiously, these days. 

It's odd, having no sense of how long he's going to be here.  Not like he's in any hurry to leave - this is one of the easiest worlds he's ever been to for a kid alone to get along in - but without the constant reminder that sooner or later, he'll be on his way . . .

The rule is that you blend in, but never so much you forget that you'll be moving on.  Be liked, make friends, but not too close.  No one you'll miss too much when you leave.  He can't afford to get too comfortable, is the trouble - and Milliways is real comfortable. 

So Jamie looks a little thoughtful, today, as he sits on the couch and munches on his chips, ball balanced absently under one foot. 

But distractions are always helpful.
[identity profile] spins-magic.livejournal.com
It's very good to have a place to go when you can't sleep.

Sandry comes into the bar carrying her still-lit lamp (just in case--she didn't want to risk finding the bar in darkness without it). She breathes a sigh relief to see the usual lively bustle that she's become accustomed to in Milliways.

Light and company. This is what she wanted.

Sandry puts out her lamp and makes for the brightest part of the bar--near the hearth. She sets her lamp on the floor and curls up in one of the chairs, glad of companionship, even if it's just passing by.
[identity profile] 1mojojojo.livejournal.com
Mojo Jojo is tired. Weary. Exhausted.

But not beaten. Nor circumvented,thwarted, or vanquished.

Stupid Powerpuff Girls.

"Iiii need a drink," he announces.

Well? Someone get him one. This is Mojo Freakin' Jojo here.

Tiny Simian Tag: Mojo Jojo
[identity profile] underwater-owl.livejournal.com
Random of Amber, long time no bloody see, arrives in the bar. He looks like he's been busy. Hey, there've been crystal serpents to fight, brothers to rescue, other brothers to attempt to assassinate...

Heck, it's been a crazy few... however long it's been. A lot longer for him than for the bar, and since that's been a while too, the ill-fated poker game, that's saying something.

To those patrons that used to know him, he's got that look on his face like he wants to cause trouble. To most everyone else who doesn't know his various poker-faces, it's just a simple smile.
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_wonder_girl_/
[OOM: Friends support and encourage you. True friends support and encourage you in spite of yourself.]

Alice is in the bar, a leather-bound notebook and a cup of tea close at hand.

She looks like she's pondering something.
[identity profile] iamhismummy.livejournal.com
Nancy's running like all the hounds of hell are after her when she comes into the bar today, carrying Jamie in her arms.

When she realizes where she is, she skids to a halt, slams the door shut behind her and leans against it, breathing hard.
[identity profile] your-narrator.livejournal.com
The door opens and closes with a loud bang. After a moment, loud swearing can be heard, but no actual presence can be perceived. There's a sound of shuffling, and a male voice mutters about his poor, injured rump before papers ruffle. A book is being opened.

"Well," a voice says, somehow at all height levels near the door and yet nowhere, all at the same time. "This is a new one, ain't it? I assume this is Milliways - it's the only place I know that would have such a particular... mix of beings."

A pause, as if he's considering his new circumstances, and those around him. When he speaks again, one can hear a smirk in the voice, despite the fact one cannot be seen. "I'm free of that idiot, then. Good riddance to 'im, may he burn to death in a thousand holy fires. I suppose I could go looking for the boy, but I'm far too interested in this place - and what it may contain."

More consideration, and then an excited inhale of breath. "Oh! Now that individual looks interesting. Why don't we seek this one down, then? They must present a far better tale to tell."

There's no footsteps, but suddenly it feels as if there's a presence missing by the door, and a heavier quality to the air somewhere else. Who has he gone after? Well, you, of course. You are now the quality catch of the day.

"Greetings," he says, and a pen starts to scratch onto paper. "Might you mind if I were to sit for a spell, and observe your actions?" But he hurries on, without even waiting for a reaction. "No, you won't mind - not at all. Why don't you go get a drink? I've heard that Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster is quite a delight."
young_gun_billy: (Default)
[personal profile] young_gun_billy
Billy is in the bar tonight. No telling when he got here but he's at a table sitting back and looking as pleased with himself as ever.

He's cleaning his gun and whistling, watching folks go by and flashing a smile or wink at a few. The tabletop he's working on is protected by a large sheet of stiff paper. Close inspection will reveal it to be a wanted poster of himself. Not a great picture but then its hard to capture such good looks on yellowed parchment.
[identity profile] dr-de-silva.livejournal.com
[oom: Casualty's new punchbag. Canon update.]

Maybe I should do something else.
Maybe I should have taken a hint when I kept failing my exams. Just said to my parents, look, I know you believe I can do it, but is this really a good idea?

It's not just the theory either. There's so much nobody said we'd have to do. How do you deal with all this death?

Oh, it's this bar again. Maybe I could pretend to be something else and then nobody would know how rubbish I am at what I actually do.


Toby sits in a booth and looks for a... It wasn't a gerbil, it was a... waitrat. After a few minutes one brings him a beer.

"Wow, you guys must be the cleverest little rats in the entire world. Thanks." He tries to work out what the rat is waiting for in return, and offers a coin and half a biscuit. After some deliberation, the rat takes both and heads off.

Toby opens his beer, which explodes over his front.

"Aww."
adamantiumloner: (arms crossed)
[personal profile] adamantiumloner
It figures he'd come back to the place with the unlimited booze and the damn Bar would be busted. Logan isn't really happy with that.

He's got himself a waitrat making runs for him though, and has set up a deal with the critter. He keeps the beer and cigars coming and Logan won't start any trouble.

His part of the agreement may or may not last but for now he's keeping his end up. Sitting in a booth with his feet propped up, smoking and boozing it hardly looks like he's after a fight at all.
ostro_goth: (Default)
[personal profile] ostro_goth
Teja has finished his work in the forge. He regrets that, but there were only so many pan-handles to mend, and the arrowheads took only that long, either.

After he had finished, he had taken the wheelbarrow full of mended kitchen implements back to the rats, that took it with happy chirps and wheeled it away. Then, he had gone to the place where the ship had been the other day, where the water is warm and odd plants grow; there, he had shed his armour, for once, hidden his axe, and walked into the warm water to sluice off the forge-grime, and wash his tunic free of it. The ship was gone, so no jeering sailors could disturb the solitude of his ablutions.

Now, he is in the bar itself again, with a cup of watered wine, and the additional dish the faun cook had promised for mending his favourite knife - something called 'apple cobbler with custard'. It contains apples, spices, and is topped with a pale yellow creamy substance the like of which he has never tasted.

He has the bag of arrowheads with him, in case the real Will Scarlett turns up.
[identity profile] iamhismummy.livejournal.com
A new notice appears on the board, in carefully printed writing.

Need a babysitter?  Leave a note for Nancy or a message here.

Will work overnight shifts if needed.
guppy_sandhu: (Default)
[personal profile] guppy_sandhu
[ooc: Let go. Mild violence warning.]

Guppy enters.

And smiles slightly as he sits near the infirmary. He unwraps the present of chocolates and leaves them open for anyone who comes by.

He doesn't feel bad. In fact, he feels pleasantly free of feeling anything.

The doctor is in
[identity profile] matrelli.livejournal.com
A few hours ago she told her grandsons the truth -- about their father, about why they left, about their history. About what could happen to them -- the two of them -- at any time.

And I promise you, she said, sitting in her chair with her hands loosely stacked in her lap, that I will do whatever I must to keep you safe. And what do Petrellis do when they make promises?

Her grandsons answer in subdued, shell-shocked unison, and Angela doesn't reply immediately, because she can't.

Nathan did well with them.

Now, though, Angela closes the front door behind her, and takes a seat at a shadowed table; gin is on its way shortly. Now it's a matter of figuring out how to better secure the Paris house -- she's not about to leave, not when there's no way to leave word for Peter, not when there's the slightest of chances that her younger son might need somewhere safe to hide.
cloakandclaw: (Default)
[personal profile] cloakandclaw
It was right over here.

Tifa appeared right here: he watched from his perch on this very same branch as she simply... shimmered into being. One minute there was darkness and the quiet lapping of lake water on the shore, and the next minute, Tifa stepped forward as if she'd meant to do it. And so he's been here in the tree, and down by the lake, and here in the tree and down by the lake and still, he's found no evidence of any doorway or portal that might have opened for her. It seems as solid as it can. Solid as air and earth can be.

If his father were still alive, he'd find this place exceedingly curious. As a scientist, his approach would be methodical, careful, filled with hypotheses and notes. But he's never been a scientist and the approach he takes to analyze this situation is tempered by his Shinra training. Assess, analyze: secure the perimeter, do a sweep, make note of anomalies, seal the exits. How can one do this kind of thing in a place that doesn't follow the laws of nature, where people make a habit of simply appearing out of thin air?

It has the taint of magic on it, but that's only science of a different sort. At this place, magic is only undiscovered science is becoming something of an overused thought for him. Standing on the branch, he leaps to the ground one more time, but no entry to or exit from the city of Edge appears. He hasn't a single theory on how Tifa suddenly appeared, and this vexes him. And so he takes carefully measured steps, tracing the area again and again with armor-clad feet in vain hope of some small discovery.
[identity profile] shimmershift.livejournal.com
The front door opens.

The front door closes. Except, at the last moment, the pointed toe of a tall, black Prada boot wedges between the door and the door jam.

Candice shoulders the door open and steps the rest of the way inside. She takes one look at her surroundings and snorts. "Whatever."

And steals a martini from a passing wait rat.
ginsu_master: (Default)
[personal profile] ginsu_master
Out back really is a great place to go through weapons practice.

Leo is going through his exercises, stretching his wrists and centering his mind. Going through the shapes and motions with his two swords is its own form of mediation.

Crane.

Vulture.

Tiger.