(no subject)

[not_his_pa]

OOM: The bawl of a steer
To a cowboy's ear
Is music of sweetest strain;
And the yelping notes
Of the gray coyotes
To him are a glad refrain

The Cowboy's Life or how a man stolen from his time got back where he belonged.

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

It was a good day in the Capital Wasteland today. Ellen's glad about that. Mr. Paulson can't go home again, she knows that, but she figures William's world is the next best thing. There's still work to be done, though. When she and Shiphrah and Puah started back to Megaton, a radio transmission came in over her Pip-Boy. Her home base might be Megaton, but that's only until orders sending her elsewhere come through- and this was one of those orders.

"Bar?" Ellen says as she comes through the door. "I'm going to need to borrow some tools and buy some spare parts, if you happen to have them. And some metallic paints, and... oh, probably some touch-up fabric, while I'm at it. I have to do some serious weapon and armor work today. And some clothing work. There's going to be an official visit to the Republic of Dave..."

happy hour!

[never_misses]

Specials:
Bistort stout
Barigan whiskey
half off non-alcoholic drinks

There are two assassins behind the bar. Technically, you can place your order with either of them, though Cata's got more of an eye on the crowd; Sam's having a look at some papers. (It is business, but not business that affects anyone in Milliways.)

"Looks like the rates are headed back up," he says.

Cata nods. "I'd thought much the same thing. I just can't decide which of those is worth taking."

"Hence seeking my professional opinion on the matter, then." Sam flips to a new paper... and his eyebrows go up.

(OOC: Going up early as I have to go to work after all; slowtime kicks in about 3:30 EST. Pick one or get a random assassin! You can also troll your orders to Cata, if your character's so inclined.)

(no subject)

[son_ofa_witch]

[OOM: Learning to fly.]


The door to the bar opens, and for a moment, no one comes through. Eventually, though, a dark figure comes hurtling inside, careening on a broomstick he clearly does not know quite how to handle. His direction changes too quickly for him to manage, and he ends up crashing into a table and chairs, sending a few of them flying.

From underneath the wreckage comes a muffled, "Ow."



[ooc: Open 'til it scrolls. Slows likely after the first couple hours.]

(no subject)

[crabbycustomer]

Karkat is still working on his screenplay, but still in the way where he's not actually writing any of it. He is working on character designs, doodling in a blank notepad with colored pencils. Occasionally he references his giant shipping chart, which also encodes a bunch of random information he needs.

He is terrible at drawing. For the record, in case anyone tries to snoop over his shoulder.