(no subject)

[acts_of_gord]

"Bar," says Gordon when he comes down the stairs, "what's the most up-to-date and accurate map you can give me for my world's Fort Collins, Colorado? Topographical, if nothing else, but I'd prefer one with buildings."

There's a moment's hesitation before a poster-sized rolled-up document with a copyright date of 2004 materializes in front of Gordon.

"Thank you. Pencils and markers would be good, too. And breakfast."

The items appear. Breakfast, from the look of things, is maple oatmeal and some coffee.

"Thank you," Gordon says, and heads over to the nearest table where he can roll out the whole thing. He is joined shortly thereafter by a disgruntled-looking Marine who just mutters something about getting lost in the garage before the two of them start going over the map in some detail. The half-grown houndeye that'd been following Shephard finds itself a spot to lie under the table and watch the room with its huge dark cluster of eyes while they work.


[Two pups, one mun. Gordon and Adrian both available. Tag either or both. Tinytag: Kreyu.]

First entrance...?

[with_his_tail_high]

There is a cat in Milliways. It's long and lean and black as pitch, with eyes the color of sunlight through the underside of summer leaves. No one saw it enter, but it strides through the room, tail held high, as though it passes through here all the time.

And perhaps it does. Maybe you just haven't been paying attention.

tinytag: the cat (Coraline)

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen made it up to her room after arriving from the ruin of Raven Rock. She'd meant to wash up and get into her Vault suit and sleep. And she did that, kind of. She got clean, anyway. And she got dressed. And then she actually looked at her room, which she'd originally selected because it looked like a Vault 101 sleep area, and realized it also looked like a Vault 87 sleep area.

She went downstairs and slept on the couch instead. Those of the Bar's patrons who wander past the vicinity of the fireplace, there's a disheveled Vault 101 dweller who doesn't look as if sleep's done her much good at all still taking up one of the couches.

Sallie can retire! As if that'll happen.

[realmrsreynolds]

[OOM, from late September:

Birthday, parts one and two.]

(no subject)

[theresnodoor]

Okay, that's it. Some people can mope and reflect for a long period of time.

And some people have never done patience particularly well.

Rachel stops at the foot of the stairs to peer down into the bar first, make sure nothing too crazy is going on. Only takes a moment to get to the bottom where she seamlessly navigates the crowd the way any respectable mallrat would. And when she does finally make it to Bar proper, it's with a few glances to make sure 1) there's no bartender close enough to hear and 2) there's no anyone close enough to hear.

Might be easier to talk to something without a face but that doesn't mean Rachel wants to be watched while she does it.

"So, um..." This is an excellent way to begin a conversation with a hunk of wood. Rachel leans against the counter - then thinks better of it and sits in a stool, lowering her voice. "I guess I need to start paying you for things. The room, the drinks. Oh, and the cake."

And she's bored and going a little spare with nothing more to occupy her than listening to people who can still go home and letting her own whacked-out thoughts wander around in her brain.

"Any suggestions?"


Fake Tag: Rachel

(no subject)

[thats-not-data.livejournal.com]

Lore hasn't been in the bar since Halloween.

He comes downstairs a bit more slowly than usual, looking around somewhat warily. But he doesn't see his brother, and he doesn't see any sort of notice posted that might have to do with him, so he steps off the stairs and walks straight over to Bar.

Several minutes and many napkins later, he's still agruing with her.

"I'm just asking for a lousy phaser," he insists. "For self-defense!" Another napkin appears. "What do you mean, you don't believe me? I was murdered! Can you blame me for wanting to protect myself?"

Another napkin. He reads it and kicks Bar in a fit of frustration.

He takes a step back, though, forcing himself to calm down. He doesn't want to get thrown into the cells for any sort of violence just yet.

"You're being unfair, you know," he tells Bar. "People bring in weapons all the time. It's not my fault I'm stuck here."

Another napkin. "I don't want to hear it," Lore says, balling it up without even reading it.

[OOC: Open until I say so! Last chance to catch Lore before his brother comes looking for him and crap happens. :3]

(no subject)

[gotham-knocking.livejournal.com]

Last night, Knox unearthed a box of old paperbacks. Crime novels of all sorts from his youth and beyond. He'd forgotten about the box when he moved, and it's like some sort of unexpected gift. He didn't even know he had some of these.

So he's reading a worn down copy of a Parker novel, and trying to remember how old he was when he bought it. Come say hi.

(no subject)

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

Ace is not a very pleased kitten at the moment. Ever have one of those days when nothing goes quite right? You sleep in just a little too long so you can't have your morning cup of coffee while reading the paper? The milk went off when you weren't paying attention, so the choice for breakfast is dry cereal or an untoasted tart (yeah, the toaster is... well. toast.)? Somehow on the commute to work you get stuck behind someone in a Perfectly Reasonable Car driving twenty miles below the speed limit on a one lane road? There's never any paper in the copier, no matter how many times you restock it? The local sandwich shop ran out of the meat you like, leaving spam or something that looks about as dry as the Sahara? On the way back home from work you get stuck behind the same Perfectly Reasonable Car, and hit every light (and a few you'd forgotten existed)? And then, to top it all off, your cat has vomited all over your bed, which you only discover five minutes before you were going to sleep in said bed... and there are no clean sheets?

Yeah.

One of those days. Except Ace? Doesn't usually hang about in the realm of problems like spoiled milk and slow drivers.

Ace is at a table, carefully placing butterfly bandages up along slice in her arm, grumbling things about dumb-ass dictators who think they can channel fencing masters. They aren't very nice things. It's a deep cut, so perhaps she's allowed.

(no subject)

[the_gene_genie]

The door opens and anyone near might well get a splattering of cold rain because of it. (Gene will not apologise.) A look of relief comes over him and after he's shut the door, he leans on it a moment and closes his eyes. Just a brief moment. Not enough to make him look like a girl or anything.

At least here he doesn't have to keep looking over his shoulder. A few pints to join the ones he's already had seems to be in order. A weak kind of celebration perhaps, but he'll take what he can get these days.


[Hideout!tag: Gene Hunt]

[OOC: Ahaha, party people. It is past 3am and i have a lot of exceedingly boring work to do tomorrow. So alas, there must be sleep. Me an' my boy thank you for the tags and will be around all day/evening/night tomorrow for tagging back. There must be respite from history homework! *flings love at all*]

SAD

[ostro_goth]

It is still early in the afternoon, but it is already dark outside.

Teja is sitting by the fireplace, playing a melancholy tune upon his harp.

The cats are casually draped around the chair he is sitting in.