(no subject)

[ihavemyflaws]

Rats are not waiters. She's just not going for it.

But the bar agrees with her, and that's where she heads when it seems there's nothing better to do with her night than drink. She sits down and asks for ambrosia -- not Scorpian ambrosia this time -- and her glass appears accompanied by a piece of paper.

After an uncertain look around her -- notes with her drinks are new -- she picks it up and reads it, mouth twitching in amusement.

It even requires a second read, and she feels a toothy grin on her face as she folds the note up, slips it into her pocket, and picks up her drink.

1.05, the still small voice

[the_fairest]

oom: At the same time as this


Mary Margaret & Dr. Hopper deal with the choices they've made.

[Tiny Tags: Mary Margaret Blanchard (& April's Archie Hopper)]

Sherwood Shenanigns, Part I of III

[queenofmay]

[OOM:

I'm walkin' down a bone-dry river
but the cool mirage runs true

]

(no subject)

[noteful]

[OOM-but-not: Visiting hours.]

(no subject)

[will_scarlett]

OOM: No?
No, of course what really matters
Is the blame,
Somebody to blame.
Fine, if that's the thing you enjoy,
Placing the blame,
If that's the aim,
Give me the blame-

The Last Midnight-Into the Woods

OOC: Warning for violence, not graphic but there.

A Jacques in the Dark.

[nameoftheleu]

[OOC: Time - First Pink Panther movie. I have been waiting forever to do this. I'm aware it's not the right music.]

She shall have milk wherever she goes, eh? And how shall yewu accomplish this task, Jacques? It's late at night and rahther dark...

It was dark in this hallway. Strange... Perhaps the lights were out. And as he wandered, he felt an oddly-fitting tune running through his head. It kept his mind at ease, his wits sharp, and yet...it was a haunting melody for some reason, like at any moment...disaster!

In the bar, there appeared a door now. It looked as though it belonged to a resort kitchen, and very quickly there stepped in a man...wearing both overcoat and hat...over what appeared to be evening-wear, pajamas. The man had a mustache and a very particular look about him. It was...the one and only...Inspector Jacques Clouseau!

He checked behind him to see if anyone was watching, but the door was already shut. Instantly, he turned and saw a bar full of people.

"Wah!"

He jumped slightly, then regained his composure. Clearly, things were not as bad this evening as he supposed, so there was no need to shout and no need to look embarassed. Striding in now more with confidence, he looked around for someone at the bar or anywhere in the room to get him what he needed.

Oh, please do bother.

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

[OOM: Need books printed en masse? There's work to be done! Smelly, smelly work, but still!]

The chemical smell starts coming through the door almost before it's open. Ellen ducks in with her head low and her shoulders hunched and darts for the stairs as fast as she can, muttering apologies for the stink as she goes.

Thank God for showers in the rooms upstairs. And for laundry service, an unimaginable luxury by Wasteland standards. True, her Vault suit's going to be out of circulation for a while as it gets cleaned, but at least it'll be wearable again without that reek. She'll have to see about whether any of those prewar jumpsuits lying around the RobCo factory fit her for future printing projects. Her Brotherhood green fatigues are clean and in good repair, so that's what she'll wear downstairs, even if she's not on active duty at the moment. Waste not, want not.

(The idea of casual clothing to simply wear around the house when one isn't working doesn't occur to her. The only reason to have more than one change of clothing, in her experience, is to have a backup to wear while the other one is being cleaned or mended. Or perhaps to use for spare patches and parts.)

At any rate, the chemical stink is gone by the time she comes downstairs in the old green garb. She'll get dinner from the Bar- something with meat and fresh vegetables, since today's work was worth celebrating- and find a place to sit with it.

And maybe crack open the latest book Moira's printed up, a copy of Caleb Warnock's The Forgotten Skills of Self-Sufficiency used by the Mormon Pioneers. Moira might have some difficulty grasping that other people don't have the same kind of tolerances and interests she does, but when it comes to the Arlington library archives, she's got fantastic prioritizing skill.


[tinytag: Kirby]

Happy Hour!

[sunbaked_baker]

The long day of baking had been cathartic. When not measuring, mixing, or kneading, Rae had gone outside and read in the spring sunlight. Today's baking should take care of her tab, so she plans on heading back home tonight once everything is sold. She had just set the tray of still-warm baked goods on the bar when she'd received a napkin.

"...Well, all right. You get some sleep," Sunshine says with a fond smile, slipping behind the bar and grabbing one of the drink recipe books.

Thankfully, there's a stool behind the bar on which Rae can perch while she looks up potential Specials. She's in lime-green jeans and an electric-blue top today, though they're mostly covered by the
sunflower-dotted apron still tied about her waist. Where her clothes are not effectively covered, they're dusted with flour. (Shocking, I know.)

Soon, the Specials are up. Even writing as small as she could with the chalk, she'd not been able to fit everything onto just one sign. So tonight, the board proclaiming the drinks specials is joined by a
second sign, listing the tasty treats available to accompany one's drink.

Happy Hour Specials!
Tequila Sunrise
Sunburn
Sunset

Non-Alcoholic
Sunshake

AND Sunshine's Fresh Baked Goods
Cinnamon Rolls As Big As Your Head: $3
(Extra Icing: $.50)
Bitter Chocolate Death: $3
Caramel Cataclysm: $2.50
Lemon Lechery: $2.50
Chocoholia: $2.25
Muffins: $1.50/ea, $15.00/dozen
(Blueberry-Candied Pecan, Oatmeal-Cranberry,
Jalapeno-Sweetcorn)
5-Grain Seedbread: $5/loaf
Roasted Garlic and Rosemary Sourdough Rolls: $2/ea

"Happy Hour starts now, denizens of Milliways," Sunshine says, smiling as she snags a fragrant, gooey cinnamon roll for herself. "What will you have?"

(no subject)

[define_hinky]

"Okay, so where are we gonna dig up enough dirt to successfully cover an entire--"

Wendy Watson, still clutching her sketchbook, rounds the last step down to discover that she is actually once again in that bar with the supernovas outside the window.

"... Stage," she sighs.

To the universe at large, she complains, "This isn't fair. I haven't even had my midafternoon coffee! You can't possibly expect me to deal with this place uncaffeinated."

Wendy wanders towards the bar, angling for some java.


[ooc: GUESS WHO'S BACK, BACK AGAIN. Catch her on her way or once she's already at the bar! Open until I say otherwise.]

(no subject)

[mr_gaeta]

Very distantly, from the hallway leading to the infirmary, there's the sound of someone singing.


[ooc: if you'd just like to react to the music, feel free to tag here; if you'd like an actual thread with Gaeta, please tag the infirmary post. Both will be open the whole weekend!]

[tinytag: boyd crowder, sam anders, aphrodite]

sherwood shenanigans, part II of III

[queenofmay]

[OOM:

I'm bankin' on the fables of
the far, far better things we do

]

sherwood shenanigans, part III of III

[queenofmay]

[OOM:

I'm livin' for the day of reck'nin
countin' down the hours

]