(no subject)

[gone_byebye]

"I never thought I'd say this out loud, but thank God we were nationalized," Ray says to no one in particular as he enters the Bar. (Okay, it was directed at Janine, but she's not coming in- she gets enough crazy in her life without it, thank you very much.) "Bar? I could use a glass of the quantum blue and a place to sit and be thankful for the fact that I'm not going to Georgia."

He's given a glass of something roughly the color of Windex.

"Thank you very much," he says, and happily wanders over to a suitable table.


[tinytag: Weasel (Vault Dweller), Dr. River Song]

(no subject)

[vance_prime]

Ellen Park's laser pistol has proven to be trickier to take apart than Alyx had anticipated. The technology involved is somewhat familiar, but it's just different enough from what Alyx is accustomed to that it's a real headache to work with. Such are the perils of cross-dimensional technical support, apparently.

She's currently seated at a table in the middle of the Bar, bent over the half-disassembled weapon and occasionally muttering something unprintable to herself.

It still beats thinking about the other stuff going on in her life right now.

[ooc: As ever, open for tags until it falls off the page.]

[tinytag: Alyx Vance, Annabelle Newfield, Barney Calhoun, Gordon Freeman, Yuuno Scrya]

(no subject)

[miami-axe.livejournal.com]

Sam Axe settles into the bar, a little pleased to have found his way back.

Though the part where the things Fiona had told him seemed to be coming true?

That was more than a little scary.

[tiny tag: Sam Axe]

(no subject)

[leapingdoctor.livejournal.com]

Oh look, Milliways! It's Saaaaaam. (Sam. You remember. The guy who winds up naked a lot? That's the one!)

Except this time, instead of Leaping in, he's entered through the door, like a normal patron. And he doesn't really look like himself. He's wearing a beige overcoat, and a hat, and he looks... Well...

He looks a lot like Humphrey Bogart, actually.

Outside, in April 14, 1953, a man who is, for all intents and purposes, Nick Allen, just stepped through the door to his office.

In Milliways, Sam is experiencing the disconcerting feeling of several holes in his swiss-cheesed memory filling in at once. He's Dr. Samual Beckett, he's in Milliways, a bar at the end of the universe, and he could use a seat.

(no subject)

[paragonsoldier.livejournal.com]

If Shepard looks like someone who's just received some very bad news, it's because, well, she has. Worse yet, she feels that the incident was partly her fault.

Hence, one space marine nursing a drink at a table by the Observation Window.

[Tinytag: Commander Shepard]

(no subject)

[dont-go-west.livejournal.com]

West is in a bad mood. Artists are never understood in their own time. (And he wasn't plagiarizing that other douchebag's antipostmodernist poem. Or if he was, he was only plagiarizing it ironically. So whatever, losers, it's not his fault that they can't understand the real nature of artistic commentary.)

He slouches grumpily toward the bar to order a Banana-Avocado Odwalla smoothie.

(no subject)

[were-needed.livejournal.com]

John Steed is in the garden, playing a round of miniature golf, which he has set up with various flower pots and other obstacles.

A civilised way to spend a warm spring afternoon, he feels, and something he'd be more than willing to share if another interested party came along.

(no subject)

[mr_gaeta]

"...You want me to do what?"

Napkin.

"No, I can, I'm just not sure, um." A helpless glance down the length of the bar. "Nobody else here has bartending experience?"

Napkin.

Deadpan: "Good to know. Thanks."

With mild resignation, Gaeta gets up and slides behind the bar. For the first fifteen minutes, he pores over the many (many, many) bottles of alcohol to familiarize himself with their names and general locations; for the next ten, he rifles through the (thankfully much smaller) collection of mixed drink recipes under the bar.

Eventually, after reading through a small black book that looks like it hasn't been touched in a while, he chalks up the specials in neatly rounded handwriting.

HAPPY HOUR
Time Tourist
Hoopy Explorer
Tactical Air Strike

On a whim, he adds beneath that:

Tell me something interesting about Earth & drink for half price.

"Okay, uh." Gaeta rubs a hand over his hair, looking out at the room. "Happy Hour's started. What can I get for you?"



[tinytag: Ben Grimm]

[OOC: Slowtime now in effect! Mun is AFK Friday night, but will be back on Saturday to pick up all threads. Thank you, guys! :D]

(no subject)

[http://users.livejournal.com/_romana_/]

Happily humming, the blonde at the end of the bar is busy comparing a bit of mildly crisped circuitry to the ginormous book of schematics she's hauled in.

It sounds like a bad joke, the narration knows.

But she's always believed in the book.

(no subject)

[fiery_ring]

Carlotta spent most of the day being persuaded to look around the university near her home. She had to admit that it looked interesting, but the fact that her grandmother is trying to sell the idea to her so early is a bit of a worry.

The university prospectus has been abandoned on the table in favour of playing in the rafters. Currently she is dangling upside down by her knees from one of them, watching the bar go by.

[tinytag: Carlotta Brown]

(no subject)

[waste-wanderer.livejournal.com]

Now that the shock of his initial introduction to Milliways had worn off, Weasel has reacted in his typical fashion: he is exploring every nook and cranny of the bar proper. 

He hasn't yet found the back door.

[Vault 13 Tinytag: Weasel, the Vault Dweller]

(no subject)

[river_meimei]

River is stretched out on a couch, lying on her side. Her hair tumbles across the arm of the sofa, and the fingers of one hand are curled loosely in the fringe of a cushion. She's relaxed, her body motionless except the slow, regular breathing; at a glance from the wrong angle, you might think she was asleep.

A closer look would show that her eyes are open, though. She's watching something in the middle distance with placid interest. (Either an empty table or even emptier air, apparently.)

(no subject)

[seethefunnyside.livejournal.com]

oom: on friday night, a comedian died in new york. someone threw him out of a window and when he hit the sidewalk his head was driven up into his stomach. nobody cares. nobody cares but me.

tiny tag: edward morgan blake
ooc: second oom from the new frontiersman.

(no subject)

[gotawhip.livejournal.com]

Pam is sitting daintily in an overstuffed arm chair with legs crossed at the ankles, dead the the world.

No, really.

As vampires are wont to do, Pam has in essence "turned off". That isn't just a mile long stare she has going: this is a corpse in full rigor mortis without some of the unpleasant after orders. Which is what she is, with a little magic to help keep her moving.

Approach with care. Her early alarm system consists of "bite" and "kill".


[tiny tag: Pam]

(no subject)

[simon_doctor]

Out of Milliways:

(KID, HAVE YOU REHABILITATED YOURSELF?)

(no subject)

[cutting_edgex23]

[OOM: Sometimes missions go wrong even before they start.

Sometimes you can scavenge something out of the ashes anyway.]

[ooc: warning for violence in the first OOM]