milliways_bar | Feb. 12th, 2011

Feb. 12th, 2011

Early risers have probably gotten used to the sight of the blonde teenager coming down the stairs and making a bee-line for the elevators every morning. The time she appears varies, but never by much - a minute, two, and she's hurrying down the stairs in sweats, single-minded in her journey to the garage.

Every day should begin with a workout. It gets the heart pu-

...well, it gets the blood flo-

...look, gymnastics are important to Rachel's sanity and you want Rachel to be sane, don't you? Don't you?

Right.

Catch her before she gets to the elevator, in a few hours when she comes out, or venture into the abyss and chance to interrupt her.

Your call.

Teeny energetic tag: Rachel

hallelujahpilot

This...was not exactly what Trudy was expecting when she walked up to the bar today.

"Seriously? You want me to bartend?"

:D?

"...okay, then," the pilot says ruefully, rubbing the back of her head for a moment. Well, it can't really be that worse than being DJ at Hell's Gate's New Years (or trying to bash sense, survival tactics and xenobiology into her fellow pilots). She makes her way to the other side of the bar (makes her way, goes over, same thing) and spends a moment thinking.

Well, screw it. Coherent themes are for other people.

Specials
Pisco Sour
Peach Death
Pyro

tell me a good connection between the above
(NOT that they start with P)
and get half off

"And Happy Hour is open."

[ooc: and closed to new threads, thanks guys!]

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Most of Lyons' Pride is still in the field, under the command of Paladin Vargas. A few members other than Sentinel Lyons were badly injured and had to recover at the Citadel for a while. One in particular, Knight-Captain Colvin, wanted to speak to Ellen before she got cleared for field duty.

It was a long talk, and it's got Ellen looking thoughtful as she clanks into the Bar in her power armor and pulls off her helmet. "Bar," she says, "can I get a paper copy of one of Reverend Avellone's texts, by any chance? Maybe that Guide for the Perplexed he was so fond of?"

There's a period of silence, and then a slim book materializes.

"Thak you. Maybe a Nuka-Cola too?"

She takes drink and book and clanks over to a well-lit table to read, and to think a bit. She can be bothered.

boston_bruiser

It’s done.

After God knows how many hammered thumbs, hammered toes, superglued fingers, and otherwise maimed and bruised body parts, the kill house Out Back – Voodoo’s pride and joy – is finally done. D-O-N-E. Done.

Two stories of over 50 rooms of completely random size and structure. Fully functioning lights in each room. Strobe lights. Closed-circuit cameras. Fog generators. A fully functioning stereo system throughout.

All controllable from a control booth just outside.

Not to mention the movable solid-oak, Kevlar-lined walls and furniture mockups.

Ellen’s probably going to hate his guts once she goes through it all, but come assessment time, that Gunny guy won’t have a goddamn clue what hit him.

He told Ellen last night to meet him here at noon with her combat armor on and whatever gear she wanted to use for the CQB event. He checks his watch. It’s 11:40. She’s still got plenty of time.

Don’t mind Voodoo, he’s just going to sit down and bask in his achievement for a while.

[OOC: Botherable, but all threads will take place prior to Ellen's thread.]

[And slowtimed until further notice.]

blowupthefloats

Munch doesn't seem particularly upset or agitated as he walks through the door of Milliways this evening. A pretty sure sign that all is peaceful in SVU-land (for the moment, anyway).

Tonight's Specials
Presidential Margarita
Abe's Tropical Night in Hell
El Presidente Cocktail #1

Hey, drink specials during Happy Hour are a good way to honor the birthday of the 16th President of the United States, right?

interrogoiterum

Renee is meditating.

This means that she is up in the rafters, balancing on her hands with her legs bent round over her head, pointed along the rafter, while she contemplates whether or no she really should had back out into the world and clean up her mess.

...and possibly run away from the mess she's making over here*

*[OOM not yet posted. Soon!]

no_justice

Death is out by the stables, brushing down his horse, which occasionally has a fleeting visit here and still has his stall.

It's a very real, very alive white warhorse stallion, who stands patiently while his master finishing grooming. It'd be a perfectly normal situatin oif the master wasn't a seven foot skeleton.

renegadeheart

Marguerite Blakeney did not earn her fashionable reputation by being anything other than alert to the changing fashions in different environment. She knows her clothing marks her own as a certain time period, and what is fashionable in England may not be so in the bar.

Still, she's in a transition period at the moment - her high waisted dressed is simple and elegant, and her hat small and descreet, just enough to prveent her from being accused of being bareheaded.

Gliding through the bar from her entrance, she ends up standing at the bar proper, ordering a glas of the finest Merlot.

raptorcanaria

There's nothing quite like discovering that a person you considered your friend and teammate was in fact spying on you and selling your secrets to the enemy.

Dinah definitely needs a time out from her real life. And indeed from people.

All those people who know who she is, what she can do. All that time she spent here, forgetting where the line between Dinah and Canary was. J'Onn betrayed her; anyone could betray her.

So she's down in the garage, on a bike that's an exact replica of her own, clocking up lap after lap after lap.

The white noise of the engine should block out thoughts of everything.

respectthegun

In costume, Deadshot comes through the door into the main bar, ripping his mask back off his face as he does so and muttering something about Lex Luthor.

He stays by the door for long enough to find and light a cigarette, before scanning the place for somewhere to sit.

Nowhere near anyone without hair.

slayer_fray

It's not often one gets to see Mel outside near the training grounds these days: why train in bar when you can go out into your city and steal stuff and beat up lurks without them claiming toy about rules?

But here's the thing: Mel has a lot of pent up anger to exorcise right now, and in ways that just plain old vampire ridden Versi isn't cutting it for right now.

So: Milliways. Specifically the Whomping Willow. Because when your sister may or may not be alive and may or may not be still your sister, sometimes you just want to throw your entire body at a tree that'll fight back.

Pruning, Slayer style.

turned_captain

In the Caribbean inlet, the waters part and with a great oceanic heave, the Flyiing Dutchman emerges. Almost immediately, the Captain rushes to the prow and stares towards the bar.

It's been a matter of days since the New Years party for Will Turner, but already the temperate area outside his inlet looks very different, like winter's advancing fast.

He hopes someone brings news of his wife.

beatoftheworld

At a table in Milliways tonight there is a blind man. This in itself wouldn't be unusual, except for the puzzle he's holding, letting his fingertips dance over the metal cutouts and the ends of the three intersecting rods that pierce it.

Feel free to watch, or try to help.

renegadeheart

[Out of Milliways: Richmond, December 1792:

Marguerite's first leson with a soldier from two hundred years in the future]

starrydome

[oom: In which no conclusions are reached, hands are kept busy, and an elf lord keeps a promise]

Elrond enters Milliways again the following day, mindfully this time. Soft, distant song follows him inside and is cut off as the door closes.

He walks to the Bar and leaves the medicine, he promised William, with her. He also orders a glass of mulled wine and some seed cakes and settles at a table.

Today he looks more like an elf lord than last time around in a bright blue tunic with silver embroidery.

[ooc: slow as mud but totally botherable]

regan_tam

It's one of those rare nights when Regan has nothing scheduled -- no charity dinners, no documents she needs to look over by tomorrow morning, no guests to entertain and no speeches to help Gabriel proofread. It is not, however, one of the even rarer nights when both she and her husband have the evening off at once.

Regan's original plan was to spend the evening curled up with tea and a book. This is why she's dressed relatively casually -- linen slacks, a nice sweater, and minimal jewelry. (When you're a senator's wife, casual is a loose term. But it's comfortable.)

When she discovers that she's out of jasmine tea, though, she pauses -- and, instead of settling for second-best, she goes to toe on a pair of comfortable flats and write a quick note in case Gabriel comes home early, and finds herself a door to walk through.

She still has her book; in short order she'll acquire a table at Milliways and a new cup of jasmine sencha, too.

real_or_notreal

[ oom : Its just that we stayed,
too long ]

notabricklayer.livejournal.com

Leonard McCoy knows better than to let his guard down around the bar. He's been told to be careful by a certain Other more times than he cares to count.

Which is why he's sprawled on the couch, a book in his lap (a real book, gotten from the Bar as a treat), ~~snoring, completely asleep~~ just resting his eyes. The print is harder to read than common handheld electronic tablets.

Yes.

That is it entirely.

guppy_sandhu

[oom: Baby steps.]

Guppy is at the bar, having a fancy coffee with foam on. He looks like he needs the caffiene.

He's currently doing the costing for the infirmary's new room, which he hopes they can start building once the flu epidemic dies down, between his shift at home and his shift here.

Come interrupt him?