(no subject)

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Lore hasn't talked to many people while he's been here—why, exactly, would he want to fraternize with inferior biological life forms?—but he has figured out a few things about Milliways, with a little bit of help. He knows how Bar works, and has a basic idea of how everything's laid out. Also, he was sure to find out the rules of this place, and the consequences for breaking them.

He'll consider that possibility more, later.

For the moment, he leaves his table finally and walks up to the Bar. After muttering a few instructions, he's eventually presented with a key. He takes it and heads up the stairs.

Mere moments later, an identical android in exactly the same uniform walks into the bar, carrying his cat. He asks for the usual meal for his pet, and goes to occupy one of the booths, no doubt one he has occupied before.

There seems to be something… different about him. Nothing tangible, certainly—he is simply sitting there, watching Spot eat, as he always does. But looking at his expression, one might say that he seems more thoughtful, or maybe even somehow tired.

…Or maybe you're just projecting some sort of emotional context onto a being who is incapable of emotion.

It's impossible to say, really.

[OOC: Open until his next post! Subject to slowtime. Oh, and feel free to mention it if your character saw someone who looks just like him walking upstairs...]

(no subject)

[friend_i_hope]

The voice comes through first. "No, listen, the shipment hasn't come in from the Casino yet. You can't put them on the market until we've actually, y'know, got some to sell. Just...put the last case of Bliss up. It'll be fine..."

And then the man, who hasn't been seen in Milliways for quite some time and seems rather pleased to be there (once he figures out just where he's ended up).

"Ah, and Doormouse? I'm going to be in my...office for a bit. Do not disturb."

And then he snags a passing waitrat, orders himself a cup of tea and takes a seat by the fire.



[tiny!tag: Hatter]

(no subject)

[pullsneedles]

[OOM: Happy Birthday]

When Lucas comes into the bar and takes a seat, he's greeted with an omelet and a napkin wishing him a happy 10th birthday.

"You mean this is for me?" he asks, looking at the plate with his favorite food.

The next napkin that comes up tells him yes, it is, and has a sincere wish that he enjoyed the birthday cake his mother had given him before.

"How'd you know about the cake?"

The last napkin has only one word on it.

When Lucas reads it, his face turns pink and he picks up the napkin to wipe the cake crumbs off of his face. Then he begins on the omelet, unaware that there's also a nice, cold bowl of chocolate ice cream waiting for him afterward.

Come celebrate with him!

[ooc: This is Lucas's last entrance before he starts going through canon and thus the last spoiler-free Lucas post.]

(no subject)

[themidnightson]

NOVEMBER

Edward stood in the doorway longer than normal. By four seconds worth of completely clear milliseconds. Staring at the room as though he's seeing it or seeing through it.

(It's both.)

Then he walked in, a complex shifting layers of determination and absentia in his features.

(He was tired of Des Moines' noise anyway.)

(no subject)

[noteful]

[OOM-but-not: Five days.]

Meg comes downstairs this evening, knitting bag in hand, considers for a moment, and then selects a comfortable chair not far from the fireplace.

She's working this evening on another scarf, this one a dark purple, worked in cables. It's a complicated pattern, which is good, as it leaves her mind with very little room to think about anything else.

She would not be adverse to company, so long as you don't mind catching her at a good stopping point.

(no subject)

[vyvyan]

Vyvyan is outside, sitting on a bench.

Nearby, there is an arrangement of flower pots, stacked end to end. Vyvyan gives them a casual glance, then wanders over and drops a mint down the hole in the top of them.

As he wanders off, a whoosh of foam starts to spurt out of the top one. Then the whole stack explodes over a splat radius of about two feet.

He will, of course, have to pay for that.

[tinytag: Vyvyan.]

(no subject)

[dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com]

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce is sitting at the bar, working steadily on a double of Lagavulin. He seems to be darkly brooding on something.

Then again, Wesley usually looks that way, so it's hard to say. It's actually been rather quiet back home in L.A.

Which probably means Wolfram & Hart is up to something. Ah, maybe that's the reason for Wesley's mood.

That or he's practicing for a Mr. Broody Pants face-off with Angel....

(no subject)

[spooky-shrink.livejournal.com]

Malcolm's at the bar tonight, pondering whether to ask Bar for a book to read or not. In the meantime, he's got his drink, and the room is always good for entertainment value, if nothing else.

The only exception being the Englishman sitting only a couple chairs down. As usual, Malcolm and Wesley are each intent on pretending the other doesn't exist mostly because that amuses their mun.