milliways_bar | Dec. 13th, 2007

Dec. 13th, 2007

Much like her mun, Mary Anne hasn't totally hammered out her Christmas list. True to form, she's downstairs, waiting for inspiration to strike--more commonly known as procrastination.

The hot chocolate, at least, is keeping the procrastination seasonal.

thebrokensoldier

The kitten is currently staring at the piano. If only because he remembered hearing Sallie play it. He'd picked up more than enough to know what he was doing if he did play it. Deciding to take that chance (even with all the scents and such in the Bar), he goes over to the piano and sits down starting to play. It all comes out beautifully and perfectly. They were designed this way.

So now there is a genetically empowered super soldier sitting at the piano, playing it with his eyes closed. Every movement and touch of the key precise and how it should be done.

queenofmay

[OOM:

Some night are made for being outside in the cold. ]

ellectrical

Elle's sitting at the bar, perched on one of the barstools legs crossed and ankles twisted around each other.

And she has a chocolate milkshake with a bright blue straw. This seems to have captured most of her attention for the moment. She twists the straw between her fingers, occasionally placing her finger on the top and lifting out of the shake and into her mouth like a spoon.

She might be preferring some sugary cherry-flavored frozen water, but this is still pretty good.

leapingdoctor.livejournal.com

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me.
Is not how de songs goes, Sam!
Sigh. Yes it is.
Two rebuilt handlinks,
And a Santa Hat on a Toki!

Sam Beckett was at one of the tables, having just finished rebuilding one handlink, the other one's signal was boosted as far as he could get it to, without rebuilding it to the size of a piano keyboard.
What he was doing so fascinated Toki, that the Rock God stopped and talked to the doctor.

When Toki moved on, it left them BOTH confused.

So Sam's reading more Arthur Conan Doyle at a table, having breakfast, and Toki's by the fireplace in his goofy hat, playing songs on his Flying V to the trilobites.

Both are botherable!

amateur-spy.livejournal.com

Emma is painting an abstract image of the bar onto a small tile. Distractions are not at all unwelcome.

[ ooc: warnings for work related slowtime. ]

grumpyseer.livejournal.com

Scooooot. Scoooot.

That would be the sound of a table being pushed across a hardwood floor. When it's situated directly in front of the door, about ten feet in, Dominic stops pushing, grabs a chair and sits down with his back to the door.

Out of the satchel at his side comes a thick file folder full of notes, a pre-folded sheet of parchment, an ink pot and quill pen, and a set of odd-looking objects which, when assembled, prove to be a candle-powered heating unit upon which a little flask of viscous silver liquid is soon bubbling away.

The teleport scroll that Dominic's been working on for Ray is nearing its completion.

calderon-crow.livejournal.com

Usually, he'd wander into his rooms to find that the spartan furnishings had become chairs and tables and a drink-dispensing counter. Today, however, the door decided to let him in early.

Thankfully, not too early so he's on his way back from the skirmish.

The armor is dented, the sword is dirtier than the rest of him, and Tavi looks about ready to flop on the first clear spot.

Ah.

Floor.

Floor works.

"Water and hot soup?" he asks the waitrat who squeaks curiously at the young man sitting in the middle of the floor.

His head flops when the little thing skitters off.

"Thank the great furies."

Current Mood: blah

gone_byebye

Ray wanders in from the Firehouse with a notepad in hand and Francis the robot dog takka-takka-takka-ing along just behind him. He stops at the Bar for long enough to get himself something to eat-honestly, he's not really paying much attention as to what- and a knotted rope laced with strands of reasonably flexible metal. After he sits down, he tosses the knotted rope into the generally empty space between some of the tables. Francis' yellow 'eye' light flares; the dog announces, "WHURF", and runs off after the rope. Ray flips his notepad open and leans back to read.

He'll be retrieving the rope from the magnet under Francis' "chin" and chucking it into what he's guessing is the empty space between tables for a while. Francis doesn't ask for much when they're playing fetch, so Ray's attention is primarily on his notes. This could, of course, lead to trouble.

immortalthief

Amanda is sitting at a table for once, as usual no shoes or socks, jeans and a T-Shirt. She is working steadily on the decorations. There is tinsel, blue and white streamers, dradles (sp?), a menorah, glitter, and she seems to still be owrking on a few other things too. Crate paper, scissors, cloth, glue,...

She barely notices the crowds around her, though she does look up every so often.

mogget_cat

Aw. Look. The couch has a heated pillow for those who are cold.

And it vibrates!

In other words, there is a splendidly white not'cat curled up and purring in the corner of the couch. Warrrrrm.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

He feels a little silly, honestly.

He's actually wearing what seems to be 'Earth 21st Century Normal' today, or what he's observed as such. Thus he's wearing a pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a white button up shirt tucked as he'd seen others wearing it. Over that, he's got a somewhat-worn wool coat in navy blue; it'd been a gift from a friend sometime back and he'd nearly forgotten he had it.

And, feeling very strange with these pants things on, he's sitting at the bar and eating some breakfast. Feel free to drop by, no matter how uncomfortable and weirded out he looks.

expendthis.livejournal.com

When Alice had helped him find his room, Carlos wasn't expecting to sleep for two full days. Not just one of those off and on sort of sleeps but such a deep one that he could hardly roll out of bed for. It was nice being able to sleep in a bed again instead of on a Hummer seat or on the ground and the fact that he had no undead to watch out for seemed to help.

After a nice long shower along with the chance to actually clean up the man soon emerged into the bar wearing kahki pants, a light blue button up shirt, and flipflops. Heck if you had a chance to wear them after five years of nothing but combat boots you'd wear them to for a little. No matter what the weather was outsie.

So the man sits at the bar eyeing the steak that's infront of him already half gone. One hand holds the form while the other part of a newspaper from some other place that wasn't his version of Earth. Seems the steak is forgotten for the time being.

Anyone is welcome to come say hello to the new guy!

underwater-owl.livejournal.com

Random is in a back booth, making an elaborate castle structure out of some very odd looking cards.

He's also smoking furiously and concentrating hard. Not on the castle, that's just busy work to do with his hands.

mendanddefend_archive

After his encounter with the Stone Angels, you'd think Bob would be avoiding the lake area.

Bob, however, isn't scared that easily. He's a Guardian. He's bold, daring, and... well, frankly, he can be just as much of a nightshade vegetable as Ray Stantz.

Thus, we find a Guardian wandering around in the snow out back. To be fair, he is keeping an eye out for any oddly-placed pieces of statuary.

Current Mood: optimistic

theflyingsquirl

Mornings are a bitch, especially if you're not a morning person... and even more so if you've just woken up from three months of hibernation.

At least that's the excuse of the guy stepping through the door--or would be if he were awake enough to verbalize any excuses at all. He's lucky he's managed to shower and dress himself, and he's not likely to be happy on learning that this is not, in fact, his coffee-containing kitchen.

He's tall, blond, stubbly, and dressed in boxers and a t-shirt under a flannel bathrobe. He's also got fuzzy animal-feet slippers... and furry squirrel-ears and tail, which are his own, very real, and very firmly attached.

The half-dozen or so normal grey squirrels who have followed him in chitter excitedly amongst themselves, but he pays them no mind.

not-toothfairy.livejournal.com

Ironhide didn't go home last night. The sound of the Nullspark's mocking laughter isn't something you want to take with you back to your world, not ever. He didn't go to the garage, either; all those silent vehicles stretching in every direction would've just reminded him of too many other voices gone silent. So he did the only thing he could do, and made for the back door while Unicron gloated over his reaction.

Some things shooting can't fix. He's spent the night in alt mode, even if it is ridiculously small compared to how he normally is. Those who look for such things will find the considerably shrunken Topkick between the lake and the mountains, seemingly inert and silent save for the ever-present, ever-vigilant silent scanning of the area.

hero_farmboy

It might be winter in Kansas, but there isn't a whole lot of snow as yet. This is why Clark is out back, enjoying the cold weather and the snow that is here at the bar. He's wandering slowly around the lake, occasionally balling up some snow and perfectly aiming a snowball at an unsuspecting tree.

Ignore the fact that he's not exactly dressed for it. Winter clothes are a foreign concept to those from ice planets.

shewasright.livejournal.com

After a reading from Tower the former Umbrella tech has made his way outside. No coat, no jacket, or anything to prepair himself for the snow that has fallen in the last couple of days.

Taking a few steps away from the door he slid down to the ground pulling his knees to his chest and not moving. He had a lot to think about- his thoughts still swimming around in circles from what the Tarot had said. Everything seemed more complicated now and for once..he didn't know what to do. Lightly Chad scrubbed a hand over his still pale face trying to will down that sick sort of felling.

Anyone is welcome to scold the man for not having a coat or ask him what's wrong. He may not outright tell you but..anything is better than being alone.

binaried.livejournal.com

Bar, have a Merlin.

Aside from trying to set up a tab with Bar, and conversing with a relative, he hasn't done much in the intervening hours but keep an eye on the Observation Window (which is now on his top ten list of favorite things) and occasionally conjure up tiny squares of cheese for the wait rats.

Perhaps he should be bothered before he gets really bored.

healer-neric.livejournal.com

(OOM: Tragedy in a troubled paradise.)

anotherlifebro.livejournal.com

It's cold outside, but Desmond doesn't mind. He almost likes it, actually -- it's never cold on the island, and as much as some people might like that, he's had three years of it and he misses British weather.

Well, he's not entirely sane.

He's wrapped up in a jacket and scarf, with a peppermint hot chocolate to keep his hands (and insides) warm. He's sitting on a rock some distance from a grave, though he's looking out in the other direction, towards the lake and bar.

You've probably seen him out in this spot before over the past few months, if you're out here a lot. He's been keeping to himself in his room (his door vanished not long after Charlie's funeral), but he wanders out here when the isolation gets to him.

This is not terribly often, since he's had a lot of practice at being isolated. But just now is one of those not-terribly-often moments.

action_rad

[OOM: Sure it's necessary. But he doesn't have to like it...]

First Aid was still poking about the incept's various workings when he left the medical bay. The Protectobot had everything under control, and, under the guise of needing weapons-practise he stepped out, assuring the other Autobot that as long as the incept was in First Aid's hands, everything would run smoothly.

Truth is, he is getting a little tired of the endless batteries of tests their new brother was being put through. Necessary, yes, but still. How much do they need to know before they're assured everything went well?

It's dark out when he arrives, and even if he can see in the dark with infrared, he's surprisingly not in the mood to do anything at the shooting range.

He sits down to a magnesium malt instead, thinking about the positives. New life. The Matrix experiment is a success and they have new life. They won't have to worry about bringing new mechs online if the Matrix is unavailible, and no one has access to the Key to Vector Sigma.

Those are good thoughts.

Current Mood: blah

destroy_restart

Tower was in the bar, smoking a big cigar while watching the observation window.

He's found a a little popper that happened to contain a rather nice Zippo with some band logo on, and has lit his cigar with that.

Sometimes, even Tower could be surprised.

[[OOC: Plot-locked to Chad Kaplan as per prior arrangement -- say sorry!]]

literallyrotten.livejournal.com

Darren is scribbling invitations out to everyone he promised to bring to Romeo and Juliet on generic holiday Christmas cards.

If you want to be thought of, he's sure to remember you. If you haven't met him and you feel like going and seeing Romeo and Juliet, tag now.

If you just want to say hi, that's cool too!

girlcalldchuck.livejournal.com

[oom: pre-milliways]

When the door opens again this evening, a pretty young woman in a floral-patterned dress enters the bar. She takes a curious step forward, glances from left to right; up and down, then takes another step back towards the door to inspect the door-frame. See, the thing is, when she opened her front door in the first place, she expected to see the front lawn - green and grassy, with the big iron gate by the road - and she was used to that; after all, she used to sell honey for the homeless right in front of the house.

But this? ...well, it is not exactly what she thought she'd find.

"Oh!" she exclaims to no one in particular, her eyes alight. Clearly the prospect of finding herself in some unknown location does not bother her as much. "How neat."

The door closes shut with a quiet click and 28 year old Charlotte Charles, otherwise known as 'Chuck', turns back to face the bar.

[tinytag: Chuck Charles]

the-h-star-r.livejournal.com

Q. What do you get when you cross a no-armed terrific athlete and a pair of rocket powered roller skates?

A. We're not sure, but he's headed right for your table!

==================================

Q. What do you get when you cross a busy Guildmaster?

A. Burned. Fortunately, there's a lake nearby.

==========================================================

Q. What do you get when you cross a man with a cigar and a glass of scotch?

A. A raise if you play your cards right.

Those are the whereabouts of Homestar Runner, Mia Ausa, and Farley Flavors tonight, respectively. Come and chat with any or all of them!

waylostandfound.livejournal.com

It was a chilly night. But that didn't really bother him. For some reason, the chilled air up in the sky didn't affect him. He didn't understand why, but it was just another sign of being different. So he let go, and took off into the night sky out back.

clint-barton.livejournal.com

Can't really go anywhere in costume, not without attracting a whole lot of the wrong kind of attention. After all, he did explode over New York City. That's the sort of thing that tends to attract a lot of attention.

Clint made his way to the Goodwill on 6th, and fished a change of clothes out of the charity dumpster. The clothes didn't smell daisy-fresh, sure. But nothing smelled overly of that subway scent of urine that New Yorkers were so familiar with. He'd had twenty dollars for emergencies stashed in a bootheel, which was enough to buy him a duffel bag from an Army surplus store, the better to stash his costume and arrows in. The bow was shot, consequence of flying into an interstellar warship while on fire. Need to replace that.

He roamed, until his stomach told him it was time to get some food into it, and made his way to the old diner he'd first met Edwin Jarvis in, just outside of Central Park. One quick glance around before hitting the side door, better not to go in through the front, last thing he needed to do was give anyone who knew this face a heart attack. He'd never forgive himself...

...wait. This isn't a diner. The decor's too nice, for one.

The duffel bag hits the floor, and a bewildered archer with no bow looks around. When you don't get what you expect, you have to be able to improvise, one of the first rules of being a superhero, that was.

But what happens when you enter a building expecting a greasy spoon, and wind up...here?

Clint finds a seat, a place where he can put his back to the wall, the better to hold off on other unexpected surprises.

Current Mood: weird

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

[OOM: In a back alley of L.A., Angel has an unexpected reunion with Whistler--who after all did warn him that he had news Angel wasn't going to like.]

dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com

[After this and this.]

It was bad enough when Wesley thought the Circle of the Black Thorn were responsible somehow for his arrival in Milliways. Now that he strongly suspects it was the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart, he’s getting even less sleep than he was. But sometimes a bit of sleep-dep can do wonders for focusing the mind. So tonight he has an entirely different group of books and papers scattered all around his booth by the bar. The Scrolls of Marius, once again, and every other source he’s been able to find about the shadowy origins of W&H.

And something else is doing wonders for his concentration: the thought that his new suspicion may mean Illyria and Angel might be in even greater danger than he thought.

He might be very close to being done with Milliways, very close to Moving On, no matter what that might mean. But he’ll see matters settled for his friends before that happens.

guppy_sandhu

"Look, all I want you to do is reassure me that you're going to stop this... raid before it gets as far as in our department. Half the patients will have heart attacks...I'm losing my signal, I'll call you back when you can say something reassuring."

Guppy hangs up the phone and wanders into the bar, then heads over to the infirmary and settles nearby.

The doctor is in

young_womble

"All day long, we will be Wombling in ths snow,
We wish you a Wombling Merry Chriiiistmas."

Wellington is making paper chains under a table.

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

[OOM: Atton has a nightmare. Warnings for torture.]

Atton is down in the bar, people-watching. He doesn't look great - He's rather pale, a little skinnier than usual, his hair has grown down to the nape of his neck and is exceptionally messy. More so than usual. But, the bruises are mostly faded, and he's not wandering about with a blanket over his shoulders. He traded it in for a shirt and jacket.

He doesn't look very happy and he's not very interested in his food - He's just sort of picking at it. But that's to be expected, really.

Botherable.

pointed-spoon.livejournal.com

You know those people who only appear when you least want them? They're gone for ages and then wham-bam back again?

Dworkin is sipping wine, sitting at the Observation Window, watching the destruction outside.