milliways_bar | Feb. 3rd, 2011

Feb. 3rd, 2011

mickandbono.livejournal.com

    There is a guy sitting in a booth with a notebook as he looks around, and then his eyebrows go together slowly. This was not the little cafe he thought he had walked into. He was thirsty, and had just ordered a sparkling water. Now, he takes it in. He has to admit the Romans know how to pick a place to eat. He may never leave.

    Commentary thinks you should come make fun of his hair...And that this EP is open FOREVER.

[Tiny tag: Jameson Rook who thinks he's Joey Buchanan from ONTL via IMDBflu]

ostro_goth

[[Not-quite-OOM: Teja and Sameth go on a night-time visit in Gotland]]

ikissdhimbck

[Outside:

'Well, maybe that didn' come out right.'

Warnings for language and (possible?) triggery content.]

[tiny bewildered tag: Gene Hunt]

acts_of_gord

When PIaDOS reported that the Borealis' radio scanners had picked up a new distress signal, Gordon hadn't entirely believed it. The analysis the AI had done so far indicated that it was probably a real signal, though, and probably of human origin- or at least originating on human equipment. Breen was of human origin too, after all. If they were going to respond to the supposed human distress call in Australia, they had to be careful; they had to be prepared.

For Gordon, a good portion of that preparation involved taking out most of his arsenal and heading for the nearest door. Luckily it opened onto the Bar before anyone saw him and thought to ask why Dr. Freeman was walking around the Borealis with enough guns to collapse a police buy-back program's funding. The Bar is kind enough to provide targets as soon as he comes by- and a wheeled rack for better organizing the ones he's not using while he's shooting another. He's good with this.

Anyone who heads outside today is likely to hear the sound of gunfire. Anyone who heads in the gunfire's direction will spot a largely unimpressive-looking physicist bundled up in dark blue clothes appropriate to the Scottish winter climate of the area behind Milliways, his hat pulled down as far as he can get away with, doing very terrible things to an array of targets with one firearm after another. Nothing larger than the pulse rifle, though. The missile launcher's for special occasions. As far as the gravity gun goes, he'll do that later, after he's put everything else back. For now? He's just shooting.

[tinytag: Voodoo (Medal of Honor), Chekov]

unbreakableben

[OOM-Ben makes it to his journey's end and gets an express ticket to his destiny.]

[[Ting Tag: Ultimate Ben Grimm]]

first-runihura.livejournal.com

Talking to Nomads is always a tense affair, moreso when they are a vital part of Colonel Ibn-Hussein's plan. Plus, no environmental control short of that provided by full power armor can counter Paradiso's stifling humid heat.

Thus it's a stern-looking, more than slightly sweaty Tarik that crosses the door to the Bar. He stops very briefly at the threshold and then a slow smirk forms on his lips. A shower and a pot of iced at-tay will work wonders on him. And of course, a little rest will be welcome and hep cement even further the legend of the tireless, indestructible Amir of the Khawarij regiment.

[...]

One shower later, a far more relaxed Tarik is sitting at the counter, sipping from a glass of cold at-tay and engaging in the traditional Milliways people-watching. His rifle, ballistic jacket and greatcoat discarded, there's still a certain air of the military about him. (The sword and pistol holstered at his hips may have something to do with that.)

( OOC: Open until it scrolls off the front page. I might be absent from 9:30AM to 11:00AM GMT due to work, but will otherwise be around.)

im-just-the.livejournal.com

When you're an experienced and highly-trained Middleman you learn to notice little things like single cardboard boxes in the middle of a massive and otherwise-empty warehouse. Especially when those boxes are ominously lit by spotlights hidden somewhere in the ceiling. Sort of makes things stand out.

And when you stumble upon something that suspicious, you don't just leave it where you found it. Doing so virtually guarantees that some normal will find the thing, open it, and wreak unwitting havoc upon the world. Middleman lore actually had very few such incidents recorded. The Pandora Incident had been enough to get pretty much every subsequent Middleman on-board with the "pick it up and have it tested" solution to ominous boxes.

All of this serves to explain why the Middleman is carrying an unassuming cardboard box (with a helpful set of "this end up" arrows stenciled on it, which he was, of course, obeying) as he walks into the bar. "Ida, I need you to get started on this analysis right away. I think we may be dealing with a..." His voice trails off and he frowns slightly.

Oh, Milliways. That's a bit inconvenient, really, you know what they say: all work and no play makes a Middleman grouchy and liable to miss something important since he's liable to be focused on how stressed out he is. (It is precise words of wisdom such as this that help equip a Middleman to face the truth of the world.)

So the Middleman shrugs and walks over to the bar. By the time he sets his box on the wooden surface, a tall glass of cool, refreshing milk is waiting for him. He smiles; Bar is very helpful that way.

Now, when you're an experienced and highly-trained Middleman you learn not to open suspicious-slash-mysterious boxes. In fact, even if you're an inexperienced and mostly-untrained Middleman you learn not to do so after opening no more than two such suspicious-slash-mysterious boxes. Of course, when you're an experienced and highly-trained Middleman, you also know that it's not really your fault when an alien artifact, or an object of magical power, or high-tech pheromone emitter overrides your natural good sense and you do something that, in ordinary circumstances, would be what is generally considered to be a Bad Idea.

The Middleman drinks half of his milk before reaching over to peel open the cardboard flaps at the top of the box to reveal... Fortune cookies.

As everyone knows, taking mysterious objects out of mysterious boxes is an even worse idea than opening said mysterious boxes in the first place, but before the Middleman can even think the thought he has one in his hand, he's cracking it open, and he's reading the words on the little piece of paper within.

Be careful not to forget anything today.

Being an experienced and highly-trained Middleman does have some perks. One of those perks is that you recognize the feeling of some sort of force interfering with fate. Sometimes this can help you prevent that interference. The Middleman jumps up and rushes for the door. What was it he forgot? Did he remember to turn off the lights when he left the house this morning? Did he leave the oven on? Did he forget to lock the doors of the Middlemobile?

The half-finished glass of milk and the mysterious box of fortune cookies remain behind, simply sitting there for a couple of minutes. When it becomes apparent that the Middleman won't be returning for them, they disappear; Bar is very helpful that way.

[tinytag: Plot: Misfortune Cookies]

[ooc: And so it begins! This post is mostly for people to react if they want, but the Middleman will be back later, probably looking for his fortune cookies.]

chameno_koritsi

{OOC-Millitimed to a few hours after this.}

She had spent hours looking for Percy but with no luck. She's not happy but she knows better than to think she's the only one who can find him. What she needs is a plan and who better for a plan than her best friend? So she writes a quick note and leaves it with Bar.

Annabeth,
I came across Percy outside and something seems wrong with him. I'm afraid I lost him. I was taking him to the Infirmary but I had forgotten my weapon adn shield outside so left him by the fire to retrieve them. When I came back he was gone.

I've kept my eye out for him but haven't seen him since. I don't know if he's sick, under a spell or has received a head injury. He seemed confused and not quite sure who he was but he mentioned the Labyrinth so I think he's from your time.
Thalia

Until Annabeth shows she'll keep her eyes out for Percy or any sign of him. For now she orders a cheese burger and some OJ with a dash of Nectar just in the off chance that what ever was wrong with Percy was contagious. Picking up her lunch, she looks about before settling into a booth where she can see the whole room.

[Ting Half-blood tag: Thalia, daughter of Zeus]

claudiometer

After last night's incredibly weird run-in with Al (no, seriously, when did he find time to read Sherlock Holmes?), Claudia has reason to be glad her flu immunity runs toward really, really good. Between the MacPherson stuff and trying to figure out if she wants to take on this car project after all, she can't afford that kind of hallucinatory hijinks.
At the moment, she's sprawled sideways in the chair she built at Cubefall, bopping along to her headphones and working on El Camino stuff in a reporter-style spiral notebook. She wouldn't say no to an interruption, though - and hopefully, she won't accidentally kick someone in her bopping along.

dark_dancer

Cata came in with the intent to get more work done on her lesson plans; she thinks she's got things nearly sorted out, but a little extra time to make sure certainly won't hurt.
Before settling in at her usual well-placed-for-a-full-view table, she asked Bar for a stout, which she got - along with... some sort of cookie. She only has Bar's word for that one (and that it's perfectly safe to eat), so she's left it sit for a while.
Eventually, during one of her breaks, she picks up the cookie and bites into it; the fact that there's a slip of paper inside it trips her up for a moment. She stops, pulls the paper out of the cookie, and frowns at it.
One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes.
"...What in the Fates?"

[tiny plot tag: Misfortune Cookies]

sees_them_too

The funny little folded cookie arrives along with her tea.

Luna turns it over in her fingers several times before spotting something though one of the open ends. Upon neatly breaking the cookie in half, she discovers that it is a slip of paper.

Be Prepared For Extra Energy.

“Well, that would be quite handy, I suppose.”

The slip of paper gets tucked in the pocket of her robe, and (crunching a broken bite of cookie) Luna goes back to reading her early birthday present from Archie. A book by a Muggle doctor named Seuss.

It's interesting, even if it doesn't really read like a healing text.

[Tiny Tag: Misfortune Cookies]

[OOC: Slowtime highly probable until later this evening.]

itty-bitty-o.livejournal.com

Olive, in the bar, with a glass of lemonade, a piece of rhubarb pie, and a rather guilty look on her face.

On the plate next to the pie is a fortune cookie. Olive looks at it curiously for a moment-- she didn't order Chinese-- then cracks it open.

"Go ask your mom."

She laughs to herself (almost without rancor), and lets the message flutter onto the table.

(There are some things it's okay to forget. Her mother taught her that.)

(tiny tag: misfortune cookies
ooc: open until it scrolls.)

vance_prime

It's been a day and a half since the distress signal from Australia was picked up. The Resistance has been working to get things wrapped up in South America so that no one will be left high and dry when they depart. This means a lot of work packed into not a lot of hours, especially for someone who is ostensibly supposed to be on maternity leave. Thank God for Milliways.

Alyx has sagged into a comfortable seat in a corner booth and ordered enough chicken chow mein to feed a small army. When it arrives, a small folded pastry-thing alongside the platter catches her eye. It takes her a second to recall just what it is; when it does, she carefully cracks open the fortune cookie.

What breaks in a moment may take years to mend.

Now there's a rosy thought.

tiny plottag: Misfortune Cookies

Current Mood: pensive

aaaaaaaagh_sky

[Out of Milliways: Gunny.]

Ellen is dusty, sweaty, sore, and visibly bruised in a number of places as she slips through the door from the Citadel. Nevertheless, she looks fairly pleased with herself. "Bar," she says, "i can't really afford to get too healed up while I'm here, but could I have something to just take the edge off a little, please? And something to drink?"

Bar manages, despite being an inanimate object, to convey the impression that the largely shaven-headed, scarred young woman in the dark green Brotherhood of Steel uniform is crazy. However, a bottle of generic ibuprofen and a larger bottle of Nuka-Cola appear.

"Thank you," Ellen says, and goes to look for a place to sit and have her drink.

lilium_evansiae

Lily can't quite ever see herself deciding to spend a break at Hogwarts, but at the same time, it's always a little disconcerting to be in a place where not only can she not do any magic, but where there's no magic going on at all.

It makes her fingers start to itch a little. So while she tells herself that she has come to the bar tonight to revise for her Charms OWL, she really just wants a chance to do something with magic.

She asks Bar for a butterbeer, and gets a note napkin instead. Lily reads the message and frowns a little.

"Well, of course, I'd be happy to help out," Lily says, "but you realize I don't know a thing about tending a bar, right?" A book materializes. Lily picks it up, flips through it, and then nods. "All right."

Ten minutes later, Lily has written

SPECIALS
Red Currant Daiquiri
Classic Muggle Martini
Cherry Syrup and Soda

Pelham and Grenville's Guide to Charmed Cocktails is propped up on the bar in front of her, and Lily has her wand pointed at the shaker that is mixing a drink in midair, trying out one of the spells in the book.

Happy Hour (and Charms Revision) is underway.

ETA: And closed! Thanks so much for tagging -- slowtime, please! :)

tiny tag: Moist von Lipwig

parkerlee

There is some fumbling and thumping at the Milliways door before it finally swings open to reveal a woman bundled in a winter coat, carrying a flashlight.

Parker blinks for a second, then grins with something like relief.

“Oh, thank you, God. POWER.” She looks over her shoulder into the darkness. “Hoss! Get in here where it’s warm.”

Without need for further invitation, a large, floppy-looking, half grown cat streaks around Parker’s ankles and into the bar. Parker follows, pulling the door closed behind her, and begins to undo her coat.

Like most of north Texas, Coiner is dealing with rolling blackouts. And no power plus a sub-zero wind chill factor is not a fun mix.

clear-eyed-lady.livejournal.com

Perhaps it should not be too surprising, the number of people who come to Milliways to get work done. There is a long tradition of abusing the time difference between here and home, where ever home may be.

This may be why Athena is currently at a quiet table, cup of black coffee at hand, as well as a laptop and stack of (hard copy) files. The laptop, however, is set to the side in favor of going through the stack of papers. (And while she technically is not grading anything, there is more than likely a red pen near at hand to slash through one thing or another that needs editing.)

Both the laptop and file folders have 'LAPD' discreetly emblazoned on them. The woman working on them, dressed in a pale grey suit and lightweight sweater, looks more like a consultant than a police officer.

((Mun going to bed, but post is open 'til it scrolls.))

scots_wolf

[[OOM: This is NOT MY DOG!!!]]

That hangover just won't go away. His head is splitting, and he feels deeply feverish.

Buliwyf would really like to talk to that Holmes fellow who seems to have been responsible for drugging him and dragging him to this strange place, putting him in a bed with a naked man.

He's sitting by the fireplace, with the dog that has been following him, and waiting for anything odd to happen.

Odder than rats serving food and drink, that is.

vyvyan

Vyvyan has apparently recovered from his flu.

He's currently sitting at the bar, gluing a pack of cards into a house with superglue.

[Tinytag: Vyvyan]

seat_five_girl

Ako adjust her rabbit ears and reads the fortune cookie again.

It takes more then good memory to have good memories.

"At least I have something with sleeves this time."

Tiny Tag: Plot: Misfortune Cookies

nameonthedoor.livejournal.com

See, now, here's the problem. When you're in the middle of solving a case involving an entire school's worth of suspects and a chance to show up a DA who is seriously starting to get on your nerves, it's not really a good time suddenly lose your grip on reality.

This is the thought going through Cal Lightman's head as he stops just inside the front door, mid-emphatic-gesture to someone who doesn't seem to be following him anymore. This should be his office (the one that, according to Roker, who has no taste, looks like a serial killer's hideaway). This is most assuredly not his office.

Someone here knows the truth. And if he's good at anything, it is getting at the truth, one way or another.

((OOC: Open forever. :D))

guppy_sandhu

[oom: Guppy got a fortune cookie earlier. Great works are performed not by strength, but by persistance.
He never expected it would lead to them nearly having to call the fire brigade again.
ooc: Tinytag: Fortune Cookie plot]