(no subject)

[claudiometer]

(Not actually an OOM:

I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind)

In a departure from the last week, Claudia's at the Bar, with one ginormous plate of spaghetti. The thing about suddenly being snapped out of that musical fog? You realise you're hungry.
She's also tired, but she's trying to hold off on actually sleeping as long as she can. The door hasn't come back, and while Bar told her via napkin that the Tesla's in safe (metaphorical) hands, she won't give that back either, so Claudia's pretty sure she's not out of the woods yet.
But while she is, she can try her best at some Investigator Mode.

(OOC: Once again subject to slowtime during the afternoon, but this one's open for ages; Claud wants to take full advantage of this moment of uber-clarity while she has it.)

Figures it's Cinco de Mayo...

[boston_bruiser]

What do you get when you combine a sailor, emotional distress, a bottle of ambrosia, two bottles of Smirnoff, three bottles of Jack Daniels, three bottles of Jim Beam, three bottles of San Miguel, a can of Keystone, and one of those cute little one-shot vodka bottles?

If you answered "a hangover that'd kill an entire pack of bull elephants", you're on the right track.

Voodoo doesn't have a clue how he didn't die from alcohol poisoning last night, but right now he's wishing he did. Alyx was kind enough to leave a few bottles of water and a blister pack of pain meds on the end table for him. The waters he drained almost instantly, but the pain meds he was sane enough to limit his consumption of - to four at a time.

Neither of them have done much good. Not against this beast.

So he's settled into taking over the couch, covering himself in a blanket, sticking industrial-grade earplugs in his ears, curling into a ball, and wishing he'd hurry up and die already.

Botherable. Because the mun's a sadist.

[Tinytags: Tommy Gavin, Wing]

(no subject)

[likesthecoat]

Unsurprisingly, as Cardiff doesn't have what you'd call a large Latino population, Ianto has never been to a Cinco de Mayo celebration. Tonight's happy hour is influenced by the holiday anyway, as Ianto will never say no to tequila.

TONIGHT'S SPECIALS
Classic Margarita
Tequila shots
Iguana
Cactus Juice

COFFEE
ANY WAY YOU LIKE IT

---

[oom: "This world needs all the advantages we can give it."

Jack (the green one) is in the bar with his work bag and sketchbook. Keen eyes may notice that the work bag is bulging--a wonder and a mystery, since the bag is bigger on the inside a god's and therefore exempt from physics.

(Mortal physics, anyway.)

He perches at the bar and watches the door while he has some apple tea.

---

After the success of the fireworks at the Shindig, Merlin wants to try more grand and amazing magic--things that will make people's mouths drop open in wonder.

Gaius says to keep to small and simple spells, as he's still learning, but that doesn't stop him from having starry-eyed daydreams as he searches the pages of the Big Book of Magic for something really brilliant--maybe even something to convince Uther that not all magic is evil, if such a spell exists.

(no subject)

[pickledtribute]

After getting drunk with Red (and mocking her outfit cheerfully the whole time) Haymitch went back to the Capitol. The next day the trains took the mentors home - only one train had two living victors.

That was not the train to Twelve. The train to Twelve ended in a solemn and mostly-sober presentation of the caskets to the grieving families, accepting their thanks (somehow without making a painfully snarky comment in return) and their poorly hidden looks of derision (also somehow managing to not make a snarky comment in return).

And then he was alone.

For a whole year. No doors, no break from the unrelenting grim reality of the Twelfth District.

Today, all of the children between the ages of twelve and eighteen were herded into pens. Two names were chosen. No one volunteered. The unrelenting cheer of the handler was almost painful to the point of making him want to snarl. Can't do that, not on camera, not if he wants to avoid Snow's attention.

So he visits the bar car before going to take a closer look at what the Reaping balls have brought him this year.

Actually, it seems he'll be visiting the bar, period. He eyes the room, warily. A whole year. A whole year. He isn't entirely sure this isn't a hallucination. A particularly unkind one.

(no subject)

[guppy_sandhu]

It doesn't get less exciting, third time around, seeing the twelve week scan. And it means Guppy gets to make the news official, though most people already heard after Fry blabbed it.

He's currently at the bar, looking at the picture, and eating a cheese and pickle sandwich.

(no subject)

[changeinasnap]

" -- You're still here!"

Somebody seems pretty damn surprised and delighted by this fact, because somebody hightailed it for greener, non-Allpocalypse-y pastures as soon as he thought the bar was going to disintegrate. Beaming, he elbows open the door the rest of the way, slams it behind him, and saunters over to the bar.

"It is very good to see you again, sweetheart," he says as he hops onto a vacant stool, resting gentle fingers on the bartop. "My usual?"

Pop. A milkshake that's more whipped cream than shake materializes.

"Good to see you're not under the weather anymore, too. Thanks," he says, still grinning, and takes a long (and very loud) slurp.



[tinytag: Aphrodite, Boyd Crowder]