(no subject)

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael comes downstairs from his room and almost hesitantly posts a note on the board eagerly declaring 'Need A Hand' in thick script. It's not that he doesn't want to help, it's that he can't help but question his motives. Sure, he could always use the money - but deep down he knows it's about more than that. It's about not wanting to go back to Miami just yet, about wanting to deal with problems that aren't his own. And more than anything, part of him wants to see what other places are out there.

Idly scrubbing a hand across the obvious scars healing on the back of his head, he sits at his favorite corner stool at the bar and orders up a cup a black coffee and a blueberry yogurt to hopefully make it through the morning. If he doesn't hear from someone in a couple days he'll simply move on and go back to Miami to what he really knows he should be doing and not avoiding.


[ooc: Michael's looking for work! Go read the notice! Also, open for 'morning' (or afternoon, or evening... time's gotten a bit wibbly for him since staying the last few days at Milliways) conversation.]

(no subject)

[badinlatin]

Mal is more than slightly disgruntled this morning, so he decided to leave Serenity and Inara's dulcimer practice for some bacon and gorram eggs. Best thing in the 'verse.

There will probably be some manful loitering about the bar before he goes to check in on his mother, but Mal's here for a while.

[ooc: workslow, but the captain needed an EP.]

First EP

[closesecond]

A bald man with a goatee enters the bar, dressed entirely in black. It doesn't take him long to notice that he is not where he intended to be.

His eyes shift from left to right. General Raveshaw is not here. This is not his conference room. Indeed, he is no longer in Temple Prime at all. If there were a bar inside the Brotherhood's inner sanctum, Kane of all people would know about it. No, this was either an uncannily lucid hallucination (unlikely), or the other side of a transdimensional portal of some sort (also unlikely, but it's the only other explanation).

The second possibility would not occur to most people. But Kane is not like most people.

His eyes do not widen. He says nothing. Instead, he makes his way to a stool and sits down with his back to the bar, arms crossed. If some greater force has summoned him here, It will make Itself known to him shortly. If it has not, that, too, should become clear in time.

He sits there for a moment. Finally, his mouth turns upward to form the semblance of a smirk.

"Impressive decor. You'd think the service would be better here."

(no subject)

[basic_powers]

Look up into the rafters, anything out of place up there?

No? Good.

Anything out of place in the general area below?

..maybe if you look really hard, and think carefully, the blonde kid sitting in a booth and drawing carefully in his notebook might seem out of place. Redesigning and building the treefort is going to take a lot of good thinky work and planning.

(no subject)

[hopeitsworthit]

[OOM: Escapism. Ain't that what friends are for? Especially when they're friends who can cook really damn well.]

(no subject)

[thursdays_angel]

It's been a quiet evening in Milliways. At least thus far.

Castiel is seated at a table near the hearth.

His nose is buried in the October 1958 issue of National Geographic.

Not even an angel can resist getting sucked into an article titled Flight of the Platypuses.


[OOC: Plotlocked with apologies.]

(no subject)

[puckishly]

[not out of milliways:

"I love you."
"And I you. Forever, I suspect."]


Puck ought to be feeling a bit more cheerly.

Or ought he to?

He still can't be sure.

His last conversation with Havelock was-- and remains-- unsettling. To look at him, though, you may or may not be able to tell: He's lying on his back on a tabletop, legs kicking fitfully, expression abstracted but not precisely unpleasant.

(He's still got the green tie, and is winding it between his wrists and fingers like a child might play with string.)