milliways_bar | May. 21st, 2012

May. 21st, 2012

[Millitimed to before Thor's first entrance.]

(OOM: "You really think you've got something?"

"Yes."

"Ok, I'll be there in a week.")

[tiny!tags: Darcy Lewis, Erik Selvig, Thor]

luvs_yogurt

The door opens and in walks Michael Westen wearing combat armor with a few stray bits of unidentifiable fleshy matter and blood on it. He could use a shower and a nap - but most of all he could really use a beer and something to eat that's of an identifiable species before being grilled and served on a toasted bun.

He's had sort of a long day.

"I'd love a cold beer and a burger with steak fries, please." He sits down heavily on his favorite stool and two notes materialize - the first makes him smile wide, the second... not so much. "Oh, come on Bar... I'm really not in the mood to discuss my tab. Didn't I just pay it not too long ago..."

Another note shows up; "Six months ago."

He sighs and puts his head on the bar as he wiggles a hand between the green pants and his layer of jeans inside them - working out his worn leather wallet. "Fine, fine... how much do I owe?" A number writes itself across the bottom of the note and his eyes go wide. Well, between his own food and drink and his tendency to put others on his tab and the rent on his room... it kind of adds up. He's got enough to cover it, thankfully there was still a decent amount of cash lingering from taking down Paco back in Miami what seems like an ago ago, but he's definitely gonna have to pull a few more paying jobs before heading back home.

"Here," he grumbles, removing a small stack of fifty dollar bills and watching as they poof away to be replaced by his order.

1nv1nc1ble

The door opens, and the young man formerly wearing a Burger Mart uniform walks through, this time in a t-shirt and jeans, with a bookbag over his shoulder. Mark stops and looks around. "Oh hey, this place again. Cool. Beats Physics class." He finds himself a seat at a table, drops his bag on it, and pulls out a pen and a piece of paper with a list of names on it:

Bulletproof?

~~Sentr~~

~~Marv~~

~~Superb~~

~~Omni-Boy~~ (HELL NO)

~~Tigh~~ Titan?

Looks like someone might be trying to think up names....

[OOC: Mark's trying to think of a superhero name. Feel free to offer suggestions.]

fullofmercy

[Previously, in Milliways:

"My name's Wolfwood, by the way. And I think you and I are going to be traveling together in the very near future."

In which the spy meets the priest, and they both think the other is super shady.]

aaaaaaaagh_sky

A few days ago Ellen gathered up some assistance in the form of two gentlemen from Milliways and set out to find out whether a map she'd been given really did lead where it appeared to. The people who had it were treasure-seekers and hoped to find wealth in the caverns it showed. All Ellen wanted was safe passage through, the better to reach possible financing for her projects on the other side.

Well, thanks to the company she chose, she got that safe passage.

A little while ago, the door briefly opened to admit Michael Westen and Nicholas D. Wolfwood, then closed again. Through the miracle of Millitime it opened again just now, and Ellen, Dogmeat, and a robot pony named Jangles stepped through. The pony is heavily loaded down, the dog is soaking wet, and everyone smells of crabmeat.

Ellen steps over to the Bar and does something complicated involving what looks like a deck of cards. She's going to have to thank Karkat later. If it weren't for that storage modus he gave her, she'd never have been able to get the butchered meat of fifteen full-grown mirelurks and an uncounted number of hatchlings here for Bar to decontaminate and package for Wolfwood. Waste not, want not, after all...

Anyway, now that that's done, she's going upstairs to wash and change out of her armor. She's got thinkin' to do and she'd rather not do it smelling like crab.

fullofmercy

Those rooms here, they are certainly commendably convenient. There's a shower and everything, and he'd just let it run for a minute, amazed at the fact that there's a place where showers are common, where water isn't rationed, where he won't have to go for weeks with nothing to use but sand to scrub himself as clean as he can.

It'll sure do wonders for his skin.

He's in the same suit when he comes back downstairs, though, and no matter how clean that thing is, it still always manages to give off the impression of being dirty, or at the very least, rumpled beyond repair. The Punisher, once again wrapped in clean white cloth and strapped with belts, bounces lightly across his back as he makes his way through the room to the bar itself.

It's been enough time now since his trip to the Wasteland that the Bar gives him, along with the coffee and stew he asks for, a notice of the packages left for him by Ellen: more than enough meat to feed the orphans for weeks. Hell, he'll probably have to leave some of it here, just so it doesn't go bad in the desert heat.

For now, he just taps a cigarette out of a new pack, lights it with a scratch of a match, and takes a deep breath in before sighing heavily.

A legitimate job, huh?

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Today was, all in all, a good day. When the Bar pops up a request to Ellen to take the helm, she's only too happy to do so.

Specials:

Bird Bath
A-Star
Crabby Soul Man
Machine Gun Joe
Guardrail
Tarzan's Juicy Cooler (non-alcoholic)

I Hope You Had A Good Day Today
I'm Sorry If You Didn't

likeaneedle

Arya Stark is tugging at the hems of her dress, clearly uncomfortable and wishing she were back in her simple trousers and shirt (which are far easier to move around in), when she crosses the threshold into Milliways tonight.

The door shuts behind her with a soft click!, and it's that which makes her more aware of her surroundings than she otherwise would have been.

(After all, why would she expect to find this strange realm when she was just in King's Landing?)

"Oh," she murmurs, more to herself. "This place again."

She wonders if she might find her mother again. She knows her lord father will be sitting with the Queen and Joffrey (and oh, how she hates them!) and Sansa in the dining hall, waiting for her. But her mother, last she knows, is headed back for Winterfell.

She's glancing around, knowing it's unlikely but still half-hoping that she might see her mother. (... or her brothers. Or Jon.) Her eyes do catch the plates of strange-looking food in front of some of the patrons, and it has her curious.

Curious and ... admittedly a little hungry.

tiny!tag: arya stark

faithful_lt

Felix is due to be released from sickbay and back to light duty in the next couple of days.

Hoshi would be lying if he didn't admit, at least to himself, that he's worried. He'd rather bite off his own tongue than do anything to make Felix feel worse in any way, but he doesn't know what to do, and he's never felt so helpless in his life.

The doses Cottle's been giving Felix don't seem to be doing the job. It's not Cottle's fault, he's sure of it -- but it's still not enough. It's coming to the point where it takes an effort for him not to wince at the first whisper of song, pure and beautiful though it might be.

It'd taken him some time to make the right connections, but Hoshi's always known more about the workings of the black market than most. It's not the sort of thing anyone talks about, of course -- he'd not even mentioned it to Lee Adama after that whole mess went down -- but the fact remains that the tendency toward barter that was once a way of life for Aquaria's people has served him well now in a different kind of trade.

When Hoshi walks into Milliways tonight, his usually-cheerful face lined with weariness and strain and with a dose of morpha concealed inside his uniform jacket, the sheer chance to be at the bar and away from the strain of life on Galactica for an hour or two is more of a relief than he wants to admit.

boston_bruiser

[Out of Milliways: Just another day at the office. Warning for graphic content.]

k_in_black

The Door opens, and in stroll two men who look very familiar--to the very few who can ever remember having seen them, that is.

Such people would not be at all surprised to discover that the shorter, rounder one is a) doing most of the talking, and b) in a bad mood.

(There is, after all, a minor cultural event imminent, and due to events long ago, the Milli-MiB can't help but know all about it.)

"What's really gonna roast my nuts is the goddamn canon bleed. Like that damn elevator the second one just slammed right into the Main Hall, right where the lobby was."

K nods. "That was a mess, and no mistake."

"Three weeks! Three weeks to knock out that damn wall and put in another mezzanine! And how long's it been since that one?"

K doesn't miss a beat. "Nine years, six months, twenty-two days."

"Exactly! And what's that tell you?"

"This gonna be that Barry Sonnenfeld argument again?" K suggests as they take their seats and Bar helpfully comes up with two Eli Lockhart bourbons.

"You're goddamn right it is. Almost ten years, you think that guy did any research? Think he gave a minute's thought to getting the HQ exactly the way it was? Of course not. He's going to 're-imagine it.' I can hear him already. 'Oh, we can do that better now.' And who gets to clean up all the spatial-distortion disasters that maniac is about to unleash?"

"Agent T?"

"Well, yeah, sure, I'm gonna say it's T's ass if he doesn't fix it. But it still pisses me off."

try_corsets

[Not-quite-OOM:

Elizabeth is not an elephant.

Or even an elephant with an extra long gestational period.

Which is to say: thanks to some timey-wimey one universe over business and extra millitastic handwaving, Elizabeth and Will Turner have finally become parents.

Welcome to the world, Will Jr.!

and later:

Captain Will Turner meets his son.]