milliways_bar | Apr. 12th, 2008

Apr. 12th, 2008

[OOM: Elle gives Peter a gift. He is not very grateful. :(

Also, there is no continuity error. The Haitian was bored. Really.]

notagagagirl.livejournal.com

Sally@thedoes.com was actually having a decent sort of day. She's managed to avoid the worst of the Gaga Girls, only one of the Boyzone clones needed stomping on (and where the hell he had downloaded that pickup line from, she doesn't want to know) (it might have even been nice, if it hadn't clearly been done on a dare), and she hasn't gotten more than three lectures today from her teachers about the importance of staying up-to-date on events online.

And then...

She's back in the rat shack.

Three steps takes her to a table, one more lets her drop into a chair with a properly emphatic thud, and then she can thump her head against the table as much as she likes. The going theory is it'll help her ignore the fact that everyone here has no problem with eating rat-contaminated food.

UGH.

(tinytag: Scaramouche)

candied-rabbit.livejournal.com

It occurred to Momiji today that he's been staying in the Bar for quite a while. He's lost track of how many days it's been by this point, but he knows that it's certainly been longer than he originally intended.

Maybe it's that realization that has him feeling homesick, so suddenly. Or maybe it was his conversation with Yrael a while back that did it. Either way, the rabbit-boy in the Bar this morning looks a great deal more...well, muted than usual.

He's sitting at a booth, looking a little drowsy, his rabbit-shaped backpack on the table, along with a bottle of nail polish remover. At the moment, he's getting rid of the pink coloration that his nails attained, when the Bar was still steampunky - it probably wouldn't be good to go home with them like that, he figures.

[tinytags: assassin!]

royalty-dahling.livejournal.com

Ah, the weekend. The kids still in bed, sleeping late, no need to rush into Panco to play secretary - best of all, no need to try to scrounge up breakfast for everyone so early. Which means that Dahlia is presently seated at the bar, eating a Bar-made breakfast quite contently. She supposes that this is just a little lazy on her part, especially when a bit more practice would probably improve her cooking quite a bit, but....it's the weekend.

Weekends were made for lazy, right?

Besides that, she's just poking idly at the water gun that Ms. Bar gave her back when she came in, today. She doesn't have a clue why she has it again - she could've sworn that her target got her out. All in all, she's rather botherable.

[tinytag: assassin!]

shinigami-rem.livejournal.com

There is a Shinigami in the green house, looking rather forlorn. She could use some instruction on her plants.

She has the seeds, but she is not quite sure wheat to do with them, despite all of her preparation in reading about plants.

Help!

burningdancer.livejournal.com

Some wrecks are personal -

some wrecks are physical.

A last lingering wetness still holds on to Mai's skin underneath her clothes as she steps almost unthinkingly into the Bar, a grey malaise that clings to the color of her skin and the curve of her shoulders. The bandage on her left knee feels out of place, unjustifiable; so much effort expended on such a minor wound.

She pats Bar on the counter as she walks behind it to pour herself a glass of water, offering it a weak smile of thank-you-I'll-be-fine-let-me-do-this-for-you before drinking the entire glass in two quick gulps and refilling.

She sets her glass back on the counter, disappears from view; she sets a drink-fixing manual on the counter beside it, then steps back out from around the bar.

She takes a sip of water and pretends that the words she reads mean something to her.

[tinytags: mai tokiha]

torch-reporter.livejournal.com

[OOM: Millitimed to last week, Riley takes Chloe to D.C. to give her a change of scenery.]

thatsgoodjoe.livejournal.com

A very tall man walks through the front door of the bar. He is somewhat strangely dressed with his black, form fitting outfit and short cape. In his hand there is a roll of toilet paper and in his eye an evil glint that spells REVENGE.

He looks around. "Dimly lit room..
People wearing strange costumes..
No apparent Robinson Industries machinery..

Which all adds up to mean.."
His expression becomes something similar to a constipated squirrel. Anyone care to help the poor guy out?

i-scare-monstrs.livejournal.com

Did someone order something small and cute?

No?

Well there's a small toddler hopping about the bar anyway! She is dressed in a pink shirt, blue shorts and little white sandals with tiny hearts on them. She's singing incoherently about something that could be 'stars' or perhaps 'tomatoes.' With some effort she manages to scramble on top of an empty stool, and from there on top of the bar proper.

"Boo!"

mysideyourside.livejournal.com

Today, Stark sits at the bar enjoying something entirely new to him again.

He has frosting on his fingers and mouth, as he has been eating some chocolate-frosted cupcakes in a rather uncivilized manner.

"Sugar, sugar!" he says, nearly enraptured in glee. "Why did Crichton not talk more of this?"

[tiny tag: Stark]

lost-trump.livejournal.com

Ka-thunk!

Tap!taptaptaptap

Ka-thunk!

Tap!taptaptaptap

Outside a handful of paces away from the door a soccer ball pounces off the wall of the bar, bouncing back a few paces only to be kicked right back against it again; all the spots landing within the same location every turn. Lucas never played the sport in college- he was to busy competeing with Merle in track and sometimes fencing events. Mostly track though. Heck! Both of them had even made it to the Olympic trails until they quit.

The Prince snorted a laugh as he kicked the ball again with another ka-thunk against the wooden wall. It would have been interesting to see where they both would have placed had they actually gone through with it. But for now he can only dream of it as he kicks the black and white ball off the wall.

Anyone care to join him?

[tinytag: Luke Reynard]

mago_sonriente

[OOM: In the papers...]

Sometimes, though, it's just a morning.

Ramirez's day has gone pretty well. It's been busy, with two house blessings and a full lunch shift at the restaurant, but nothing he couldn't handle. He considers it a great day when the worst thing all day happens to be in the paper. Not great for someone else, obviously, but he can't save everyone.

That said, he's glad when the back door to the restaurant opens up to Milliways. Staff in hand, dressed in his usual white t-shirt and army surplus pants, he makes his way to the bar and orders a beer and the kind of nacho platter that makes gastrointestinal specialists want to cry to their mommies.

[assassin]

mrmoneypenny.livejournal.com

A napkin appears on Bar.

A napkin that, as it happens, has been scribbled upon by Bar.

Villiers, more than anything, is curious. When he finishes reading the note, he’s not so much curious as he is, shall we say, slightly overwhelmed. Bartending? For a bar this size, of this scope, and serving the populace of, well, everywhere?

Another napkin appears: you’ll get used to it, it says.

Well, he supposes he will.

Like bartenders past, there are some specials on the board only a few minutes later, written in Villiers’ neat and slightly slanted handwriting:

Apple Blossom
Apple Cobbler
Jack Rose Cocktail

...what? So he’s in an apple kind of mood today.

((OOC: The mun is currently collapsing; slowtimes are love, as usual. AND THANK YOU! :D Was wonderful threading with all!))

[tiny!tag: Villiers, Demeter]

mechanicalswans

Enough is enough, thinks Weyland. He is seated at a table with proper line-of-sight to the door, or where the door would be if he had one; its absence is the reason for the icy stares he gives the wall now and then when he glances up from the plans he is sketching out.

(The plans are for a device that, in theory, would summon a door back to his world whether the bar wants to give him one or not. He doesn't know if it would work, and isn't quite desperate enough to try, not yet. But it never hurts to make plans.)

In the meantime, he has discovered that the bar can indeed supply him with that local beer he used to love so long ago, and that helps a bit. He wouldn't mind company, as long as company doesn't mind the chain-smoking.

[tiny tag: Weyland]

gone_byebye

The situation in Brooklyn is about what you'd expect when sixty-five trainee Ghostbusters have just had a day's worth of dealing with both Long Island spooks and a seaside diplomatic visit. Tomorrow there'll be sixty left, Ray's just sure of it.

But that's tomorrow. Today, Ray is making up for the time he didn't have in Brooklyn; he's out back, practicing with his lightsaber and the training drone on its highest difficulty setting. Compared to dealing with that many people, it's positively meditative.

He'll be back inside later. For now, he's doing the absolute best a Forceless human can.

playingmafia.livejournal.com

"Yeah, I guess you're right," comes the muffled voice from behind the door. "A break would be good right now, wouldn't it?"

The handle turns, then the door itself shifts for a moment, into something pressurized and smooth - sliding back to reveal a tall Japanese boy with black hair that sticks out in damn near every direction, water still glistening on the ends of it from earlier, half-turned to look back through where he just came. "I could use a nap, thanks for the suggestion!" he calls back, then steps through and lets the door shut behind him.

And catches the door shut and turn back into the regular, knobbed door.

He spins, wooden sword in hand, eyes wide, to see ... a bar.

He brings his sword hand up and scratches at the back of his head, concern turning to baffled good humor. "I don't think this was here before," he says, laughing easily. "But that was a nice trick, what the door just did. Can anybody teach me how it did that? Because that was pretty cool."

What? It was.

[tinytags: yamamoto (reborn!)]

gil-whimple.livejournal.com

It was a fiddly job but a labour of love for all that. But eventually they were finished and Gil poured them into dishes and placed them on the tray with the dishes of pretzels and peanuts.

Then he trots around the bar placing the dishes on the tables - one dish of something savoury and one of tiny perfect miniscule dark chocolate cookies with a creamy white filling.

Never let it be said that Gil isn't afraid to let the customers of Milliways try something different.

mistressmaryquitecontrary

In a day or two, Mary's going to have to put Operation: Avoid Boarding School into Action.

For now, though, she's sitting in perfectly respectable primness at a table, poring over long division problems like a good student-to-be. She is, after all, going to have to figure out how to do this herself.

Besides, Helen's book, which gets very obscure and scientific in the third chapter, has given her an idea that knowing maths may be more important than she had thought.

mnt_mike

A notice appears on the Message Board.

"Effective Immediately the following Bartenders
are to report to active Bartending Duty:
(in no particular order)

Cyrus O'Dell
Matilda Wormwood
Jack Harkness
Jo Harvelle
Carl Johnson
Dennis Doyle
Mai Tokiha
Justin Taylor
Rapunzel
~~Yreal~~

Yrael

NOTE:
This is not the final employment list.
There are still outstanding interviews left to be had.
We're looking for you, we swear!

wiretapper.livejournal.com

Here again. Harry had convinced himself it was a dream. Now here it was, again, where his apartment was meant to be. He had closed, opened the door once, twice, three times. Still there. He'd closed the door again, started to walk away, but -- but where else did he have to be? Reluctantly, he opened the door again and stepped through. Just as reluctantly, he approached the bar and ordered a Coke, then sat on a barstool, people watching in his own, indirect way.

[ petit tag: harry caul ]

cloakandclaw

( before )

Ah, memories. On a whim, he reaches for the door and to his surprise the knob turns and it opens. He walks in... but this is not the interior of Shinra Manor.

"Oh." He doesn't mean to say it aloud, but it's too late to reclaim the word. There's a long moment where he scans the room for familiar faces, but seeing none, he shakes his head and turns to go: all things considered, he'd rather be home than back here. There's only one problem: the door has already closed behind him and for the moment refuses to open again. The irony of the situation hits him full force: next time, he's going to take advantage of the first item shop he sees, even if it's the one in Nibelheim.

But this... is not Nibelheim; he could just cry. Or howl: maybe he'll go outside, let the fierce purple beast who lives inside him take over but... no. No, he can't do that. He can't let that happen. He takes the key he's carried with him all this time out of his pocket: hopefully it still fits the lock to the room upstairs.

watchmakers_son

It hasn't occurred to Sylar that his inability to keep track of how long it's been might be due to the bar: distorting space-time, making days pass in the span of hours. It doesn't feel like he's been around for more than several days. A week at most, maybe.

He's more inclined to think it's his own body's fault for that -- and it's not as if Milliways has ever been forthcoming with him, even when he was at his peak.

Tonight he's secured a mug of tea, and, instead of taking his usual place by the Observation Window, has opted for one by the fireplace instead. A blanket's wrapped loosely around his shoulders; sitting up as straight as he can manage, Sylar watches the flames, silent and preoccupied.

It's not as comforting as the Window, but at least it's warm.

[OOC: as a general FYI, the mun is now on Mountain time (GMT -7) and will be there for the foreseeable future.]

[Tinytag: Charlie Crews]

acts_of_gord

[OOM: In a motel room in Espanola, Dr. Freeman receives a phone call.]

People do things when they think they're alone that they would never, ever do in the public eye. For one man, who's grinning so hard that he hasn't realized he's not actually in his motel's hallway after all, this means the White Boy Nerd Dance. You know the one. Lots of butt motion, some head bobbing, hand gestures that look like the last time the performer actually danced "Walk Like An Egyptian" was still in the top ten...

Oops. He's just opened his eyes and seen the Bar.

Well, this should be interesting.

[tinytag: Gordon Freeman]

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is always one to make himself useful.

So even though he's still feeling a bit under the weather, he's currently sitting on the floor of the bar, attempting to assemble something.

It has four little wheels, some bits of canvas-like material, and various bits of metal and plastic.

azure-mercy.livejournal.com

Zhaan's just finished a marathon session of working on lesson plans for the House of Arch academy. Between the seasonal revival of her garden and the arrival of Stark (whose enthusiasm for sugary Earth foods worries her, although it's hardly the most dangerous thing he's contended with), she's got other things to see to as well - one of which is tracking down Tom or Door to see about getting Stark access to the House of Arch.

She's now sitting by the fire with a mug of tea, a notebook and a couple of folders piled neatly on the end table by the couch she is occupying.

shinigami-rem.livejournal.com

There is a strange sight on a couch near the fire. It's a Shinigami with a child asleep on her lap. The God of Death looks a little confused, but strangely happy. The events of earlier today were great, and now she has a friend called Boo, or Gracie, or Mike.

You are welcome to gawk or speak to or at Rem, but please do not wake the kid.

(tiny Tag: Rem, Boo)

not-only-wisdom.livejournal.com

There is only so long a woman can stand to be on call, busy with lesson plans, tending an herb garden, tending a husband--

Which explains why Nynaeve steps through the House of Arch painting, giving a narrow glare to the leering Saint Bernard.

She holds it until the painted animal appears cowed, mutters a 'hmmph' under her breath, and goes to the Bar to get tea.

The Aes Sedai will end up settled in a chair by the fire, keeping her hands busy by darning socks. Some people--children and men included--just have no practical skills whatsoever.

[tinytag: assassin]

stone-warrior.livejournal.com

He'd been on his way to the library when the door opened up onto the unusual sight of Milliways. It has been some time since Goliath has been here, less on his side then in the bar itself, and it gives him pause. The last time he was in he was bound for some time. Still, it would be interesting to have another look around and perhaps take some time off from the younger clan members sqabbling and worrying over Eliza and her brother.

Stepping inside, the tall gargoyle keeps a firm hand on the door handle, testing it carefully to make sure the door still opens before finally letting go.

The place seems the same though with perhaps more people then he remembered. Of course his recent days haven't been spent among many humans so that could be it.

Standing near the doorway he surveys the room and tries to decide what to do with himself now that he's here.

for-petessake.livejournal.com

Objective impartial observer.

That's what the woman who had visited Anastasia's sixth-grade class last year had said being a journalist was all about. 'Journalist' is on Anastasia's list of possible future careers, as is 'writer', and she figures it's a good rule of thumb for both.

Milliways, she thinks, is going to require a lot of observation before she starts to understand it. But that's okay.

Anastasia's notebook is open on the table in front of her. She has written up her observations of Mr. Knox (who had given her some good inside scoop on being a beat reporter) and of Spoon, who had first welcomed her to the bar. There are additional notes along the lines of Rat waitstaff--sanitary? and If you can't work doorknobs can you ever even come to Milliways?

Frank is also on the table. Anastasia had thought it was only fair that she bring him from time to time--he had been with her on her first visit after all. But it's debatable whether or not the goldfish is actually aware of anything beyond the curved sides of his bowl.

[Tiny tag: Anastasia Krupnik]

nothawkingbird.livejournal.com

Kate was in the bar, curled up on one of the couches with a book. But she was watching the fishes swimming in the flames of the fireplace more than reading. Thinking of the choices she's made. And how even with everything she's done, sometimes it's not enough. Could do more, if she had the chance to. Thoughts were troubled, and there were doubts circling and swimming in her mind like the fishes she was watching.

Probably had something to do with a curious conversation with somebody she met the other day.

[tiny tag: Luke Reynard or Rinaldo]

morelikeasponge.livejournal.com

[OOC: Elle shares her life story. No hairdos were harmed in the writing of this OOM.]

Peter Petrelli is +1 set of gray pajamas, and -1 set of bangs.

He looks around, with an air of profound disorientation. And then he backs into a table.

blumekinde.livejournal.com

Klara never made it home after her confrontation with Molly. The other girl's departing words ("You're just another grown-up"), as well as worry about what Mr. Prast would do if she came home without a job, slowed her pace considerably. Which meant that when the fight between the Sinners, the Street Arabs and the Upward Path broke out Klara had the misfortune to be caught in the middle of it. She quickly ducked through the closest doorway...only to find herself in a tavern. The last place she'd want to be, especially if her husband were here already and drinking.

She's not noticeable right off, but there's a frightened girl (with a black eye) pressed against the wall where the Door usually appears. From the way she's dressed, someone might want to tell her that Milliways went through its steampunk'd phase a couple weeks ago.

[Tinytag: Gordon Freeman, Klara Prast]