milliways_bar | Aug. 22nd, 2008

Aug. 22nd, 2008

shadowsusannah.livejournal.com

The year is 1953.

( History - (n) that which we are doomed to repeat. )

( Some history is personal. )

The girl who stands in the doorway of Milliways, one hand still on the knob, is 19. She has a washcloth in her hand. She's black and slim and beautiful, with long legs under a conservative pale green party dress. Her hair is very straight, for which she pays the price of getting up an hour before her roommate to flatten it with an iron.

She has a washcloth in her other hand, and her eyes are wide with disbelief. Flat denial.

The doorknob slips through her numb hand, and the door clicks behind her.

bluespells.livejournal.com

There door slams behind Wiccan as he stumbles into the bar. He's not weaving, per se, but his walk isn't straight. He's in costume, albeit one that's ripped and dirty, and his eye's black.

He stumbles over to a couch by the fire and takes up residence without bothering to speak to anyone. He might be asleep as soon as he hits the ground, but he might not.

There's only one way to find out.

Mun will be in and out all day; tags will be slowtimed & post is open until his next EP.

bloody-awful.livejournal.com

Well, look here. Someone's up bright and early, walking downstairs and whistling a happy tune. Why, it's John Constantine, settling down at the Bar and digging into his usual breakfast with gusto.

Mmmmm, greasy.....

[ooc: Open all day.]

bythatmuch.livejournal.com

[oom: Max, it seems, is having a slight change of heart.]

[mighty little tag; Maxwell Smart]

candied-rabbit.livejournal.com

This morning, the Bar's front door opens and shuts twice in quick succession, admitting two patrons - first Momiji Sohma, a semi-regular and resident rabbit-boy, then, just a few seconds later, Ganymede, a less frequently seen, immortal visitor.

The former of the pair, one might note, is back in his schoolgirl's uniform, presumably getting ready to head back to class from fall break, with one strange addition. Namely, as he trots into Bar, today, he's wearing a swanky, black top hat that would look much more appropriate on a 19th century gentleman getting ready for a fancy dinner than on a Japanese kid dropping in between dimensions before school. Still, judging from his wide smile and occasional fingering of it, he likes it quite a lot.

So, one might guess, does Ganymede, as the not-really-a-god pauses suddenly in mid-approach to the bar proper, blinking and stopping to eye the short, blond teen, before he playfully plucks Momiji's headgear up, popping it on top of his own hair.

"Ooh, nice," he grins a tad smugly, starting off to find a mirror in which to examine his prize.

"Hey!" Momiji yelps, once he's processed what just happened, one hand reaching up to pat his suddenly uncovered head. "Give that back!"

The rabbit-boy gives chase, Ganymede accelerates, and...hey, Bar, guess what? You have two totally immature people running around your tables like crazy!

Yeah, have fun with that.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

Knox's trip to work today included a small detour at the branch of First Federated Bank in Gotham Central Station. At some time overnight, there was a break-in, and just by the luck of the draw, Knox saw the cadre of cops and plainclothesmen when he got off the train. So he ignored the fact that he's not a beat reporter anymore and took the story himself (though it helped that no other reporters from PM arrived for a while).

Now he's drinking a cup of coffee and eating a danish, and organizing his notes from brief interviews with the cops (including Chief O'Hara, who was on the same train as Knox and decided to take charge of the case, even though he wasn't even in uniform yet). He thinks that there might be something more to the break-in than meets the eye, and hopes a quiet Milliways breakfast will let him figure out what before getting back to work.

Come say hi.

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

Harrogate has been brim-full of people in desperate need of carbohydrates the past few days, at least from Annie Wells' point of view. She's only been able to pop into the Bar for long enough to get Harry to and from the Academy. There's finally been a bit of a let-up, though, so she's come into the Bar for a break.

And there is dough. Blobs of the stuff. Quite a few of them, scroonching their way up her table.

"Oh, for- look," she says to the lead blob as it halts in front of her. "This can't go on. You lot really don't belong here. Sooner or later someone's going to come after you with fire or dry ice or something. You can come home with me if you promise to behave, but anybody who causes trouble is getting dropped in the goat pen."

The blobs have no eyes or ears or mouths, but they nonetheless give the impression of looking at one another in consultation. Then the lead blob bobs up and down in affirmation, and they all start oozing away.

"I really need some tea," Annie says to the first available wait-rat.

callmemajor

When the door opens, a somewhat familiar figure is backing through it, looking highly amused and only just this side of cracking up.

As a result, he's not really looking where he's going, which always increases the possibility of running into people.

He's very sorry.

[ooc: tiny!tag: Evan Lorne]

magic_ferret

It was just a single step, or really more of a shuffle. Yunno staggers downstairs into the bar leaning heavily on his staff. It crackles with an electrical discharge. His breath, for anyone who comes close enough, has the baking bread smell that comes with living off of water alone for a few days.

"Whoever thought it would be funny to spot weld my door shut? I'd like to have a few words with you."

Tiny tag: Yunno Scrya

longlonghair

Rapunzel is behind the bar, apron on, writing the specials on the board with a mischievous grin. Someone's been on her mind, today!

Gotham
Batman
Alexander Baby
Coffee Alexander

Plus, if you can prove your name is Alexander, your drink is free!

"What'll it be?"

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

Lissar, heeding Axel's warnings, chose not to take the flying Nobody up on his offer. She edged around the jungle carefully so that she could go for her customary run in the mountains.

She's not going to let anyone keep her from her life. Never again.

She can be caught at any point outside.

artfowler.livejournal.com

It perhaps surprises Artemis the most to think that the 'grounding' his mother has been forcing him to endure is not all that bad. It's given him the chance to step away from his normal routine of various business ventures to spending time with his brothers (and parents) more.

Unfortunately, spending time with his brothers means chaos and, on this day in particular, sports. But, he has to admit, it has been...interesting. Especially when Father joined, the twins tiring from the activities, and Artemis and he had an impromptu Gah match between the two of them. Which they've never had the chance to do before, both having been so busy in the past.

It turned out a rather competitive match - a very competitive match, actually - but overall fun.

Not that Artemis is thinking of playing sports all the time now or the like, mind.

For one, he's exhausted, barely awake in the armchair he's occupying at Milliways. And he'll probably be beyond sore tomorrow. Secondly, he rather dislikes his current, unkempt state. He's still sweaty and disheveled from play, and his clothes (a chunky jumper, jeans, and trainers) are stained with grass and mud.

But, he's not complaining. He had fun. He's even still grinning over his win.

is-listening.livejournal.com

[ooc: Warning for epic slowness in effect~]

Frasier's camped out in a secluded booth, today, reading.

It's the latest issue of The American Journal of Psychiatry.

He also has a cup of some fancy coffee.

... that's about all this EP has to offer.

[tinytag; Frasier Crane]

why-so-serious.livejournal.com

The cell's back.

For all appearances, it seems as though it's only been a couple of minutes since it's been gone. (If you met the man inside the cell before, you'll notice he's only moved three inches or so since the last time you saw him.) He is eying the bar with the same amount of interest as he was before, hands held on his lap, fingertips pressed together.

The main difference is in lighting. A very bright light has been switched on somewhere on the ceiling of the cell, giving everything an oddly sterile look for the glass and water on the floor, and the grime on the bars.

It provides a stunningly good look at the cell's inhabitant. The scars on his face are more pronounced than ever, eyes appearing as though they had sunk deep, deep into his face, make-up taking on a few more levels of garishness, straggly hair providing a strange frame for his features. His clothes are more visible as well, all custom, all almost distractingly colorful in the new light.

(From his right pants pocket, and this noticeable only if you're looking very, very carefully, pokes a wreath of flowers. It could easily be mistaken for a pocketwatch chain if the flowers were taken out of the picture.)

In the meanwhile, there's another newspaper at the bar.

| ooc: feel free to just react to the newspaper if you want to. same rules that applied to the last ep apply to this one! if you have a slowtime with me i haven't tagged up, feel free to poke me.

calling slowtimes! tags open 'til whenever. |

not_lugosi

Bela storms in through the door, her black cocktail dress clinging to her like a second skin. She slams her beaded clutch onto the surface of the bar in frustration, and says through gritted teeth, "Martini, please. Very dry."

The martini doesn't appear right away. She grimaces, removes the clutch, and mutters, "Sorry about that. It's been a really bad night."

The martini appears.

scurlock

[oom: business]

Doc makes his way downstairs, heads out back, checks on the horses, the stables, the jungle (which is shrinking, he thinks, though it's hard to tell in the dark) and then makes his way back into the bar. Dinner is nothing special (at least he eats, though) and then he leaves a note* for Percy with the bar. After burning a stack of papers in the fireplace...he's got nothing left to do. He's not tired, though.

Which is why he ends up sitting at the bar with a stack of newspapers beside him. There are a few issues of the New York Union Tribune (dated in late July, 1880) and another of The Weekly New Mexican which is opened to a story on Sheriff Pat Garrett and his hunt for Billy the Kid's posse.

But Doc is reading something else at the moment, ignoring his glass of whiskey in favor of slowly scanning the pages of the paper in front of him.

[ooc: ~~Botherable.~~ No tags please. As for the note he left Percy, there's some rough context of the content in the OOM.]

ostro_goth

Is there less of the tangle of spiny vines today?

There might be -- but not enough, yet, to get to the forge unimpeded, or indeed without the aid an axe or suchlike.

So Teja asked the Nobody, Xaldin, to lift him over to the forge through the air; and Xaldin obliged.

It is good to be in the forge, working, without having needed to fight every step of his way there. But there is still mayhem outside, so Teja put up the sign again:

ENTER!
It is open! I am in, and working.
Please close door when you come in.

and closed the door. It is not locked, though, and Teja is willing to talk to any that find their way here despite the thicket of plants running wild, be they friends or strangers, be they merely curious, or potential customers.-

[[OOC: Airlift by arrangement with Xaldin-mun! Forge post open until Saturday evening GMT; afterwards I will be offline for my vacation, and extremely intermittent, if online at all.]]

soulkeepersong.livejournal.com

I had been so excited at the chance I might be able to return home, I had assumed it was a certainty.

That I was once more outside of Milliways has proven that wrong. I was surprised to find the jungle had shrunk slightly and wondered how long I had been gone. Standing in Worry, I Flamed the scent of the Heartless off of me.

cheerychaplain

"There's a step up, Hawkeye," says a muffled voice, and then the door opens.

"It's always a step u--" says Hawkeye Pierce, and he stops, his head cocked to the side and his eyes bandaged as they were before. He's wearing a particularly loud blue-and-white Hawaiian shirt under his bathrobe.

Father Mulcahy blinks behind his glasses. "Oh my. We're--"

"--In Milliways," Hawkeye finishes wryly, patting the shorter man's arm; the arm that his hand was already resting on for guidance. "I can smell the universe ending from here."

"I can smell the pancakes from here," says Mulcahy, his eyes lighting up, and Hawkeye laughs.

"I've got to admit -- breakfast here would definitely involve less gray than anything I could get in the mess tent. What do you think; to the bar?"

The priest smiles. "Certainly!" As they make their way to the bar, Father Mulcahy guiding Hawkeye past obstacles and patrons: "Just don't tell Igor; I did promise to try his creamed corn."

"The creamed corn?" Hawkeye asks incredulously. "Really, Father? You don't have to be a martyr, you know." Mulcahy chuckles and the easy conversation continues; in short order, the pair from the 4077th are settled on stools at the bar, debating breakfast orders.

Or, well. Hawkeye is debating, changing his mind every three seconds. Father Mulcahy put in an order for two eggs sunny side up and a mug of black coffee five minutes ago and is watching Hawkeye waffle -- pardon the pun -- with a bemused expression.

[OOC: Tag one, get both! Should be around for ages tonight; please be forewarned that slowtimes could get very slow.]

scurlock

[oom, sorta: In which Doc and Miss Katherine explore the grounds out back a bit further. Millitimed to the day after this post.

No real warnings...except for a slight lack of giving a damn about propriety due to lack of a chaperon.]

[tiny tag: Miss Katherine Barlow]