milliways_bar | Aug. 1st, 2012

Aug. 1st, 2012

Gibbs warned her, but did she listen? Noooo....

Through the magic of Millitime, either today is yesterday or yesterday was today, but that doesn't matter as much as the fact that ███████ (or Sarah Black, as she has been introducing herself to the mortals here) and her axe are all that stands in between a giant scorpion like beast and the Caribbean inlet. It seems very insistent in reaching the water.

Nearby are the smashed remains of the oversized lobster pot she brought out with her earlier.

Sure, she can fry it with a fireball, but she doesn't want too cook it right away. It is more likely that she will reduce it to ashes anyway. She wants to at least study it with its organs somewhat intact, so smashing is to bits with earth magic is out. Water and air are good for pushing it back, so at least there is that, but its not like she's going to drown it. She doesn't want to make its lungs (or whatever it has) explode. And throwing the axe at it would be stupid. What if it avoids (or even survives) an axe right between the eyes?

She'll figure something out eventually. In the meantime, she would not say no to some help.

golden_lyre

Orpheus has cordoned off a corner of the bar today.

Well, sort of.

He's set up a barrier of chairs around one of the corner booths. Far enough apart for people to easily get between them but close enough that it's clearly deliberate. On one of the chairs is a handwritten sign reading:

CAUTION:
Musician at work.
Approach at your own risk

The sarcasm meant in this warning is likely only evident to a few.

The musician in question is settled in the booth with his guitar in his lap, quietly strumming a tune of vague, smug amusement--a feeling that will not stretch beyond the barrier of chairs.

vance_prime

It's been another long day at the Greenbrier bunker. Between overseeing repairs to the above-ground structures, running numbers on how big a harvest they'll be getting from the new seed crops, and playing go-between for Kleiner and Magnusson--again--Alyx has barely had a moment to sit down all day. But now the day is over, the twins are both asleep, and she's ready to settle down for a well-earned night's rest.

Unless, of course, the door to her bedroom leads to Milliways instead.

"Oh, God DAMMIT."

hands_of_blu

If anyone were to ask where he's just come in from, the tall fellow in the long blue lab coat and suspenders and dark blue trousers would give a vague location somewhere in the Alps, and maybe mention something about not being very fond of duty at water treatment facilities. And then- well, no, he wouldn't change the subject, because he'd be trying to get some coffee and a copy of the Stuttgarter Zeitung after a very long day on the job (he smells like ozone and smoke), and also maybe trying to deal with the fact that there's a small brown guinea pig poking its head out of one of his coat pockets and trying to chew on anything that comes within reach.

Look, it's been a busy day and all the explosions got on Katyusha's nerves. She deserves a break from the likes of Herr Scout, too.

[Botherable, and open until it scrolls off the page!]

hecu_marine

Despite having earned the damn thing after that fishing trip with Nepeta, Shephard hasn't been able to bring himself to use the tablet just yet. Today, he figures, is as good a day as any for it- might as well get what he can out of the way before he goes home and time starts flowing again. Nobody around here's going to think it's weird, not compared to all the other weird shit. Hell, they won't even notice.

(He hopes, anyway.)

So, yeah, there's a Marine settled over at one of the tables near the bar with some kind of vaguely organic-ish tablet computer on the table in front of him, set to 'simulate paper' mode. He's very studiously not looking at it even though he's taken off his usual elbow-length glove and the extremely realistic silver prosthetic that replaced pretty much everything below the joint is happily writing and writing and writing away while he works on lunch with his off hand.

The way he sees it, there's going to be a lot of this in his future, so he'd better get used to thinking of it as normal. But he could be bothered.

thezeldaoflegend

When Zelda walked up to the bar, she was expecting to order a warm cup of tea to take with her to the fireplace.

She was not expecting to be nearly tackled by a certain childhood friend.

"Zelda!!!"

"Wha--Link?"

It is indeed her precious sleepyhead.

"I'm happy to see you, too, but--you're making it hard for me to breathe."

"Oh. Sorry." Mr. Sleepyhead then releases her from his death grip, which he had previously assumed to be a hug.

The two old friends then proceed to chit chat as Zelda finally acquires her cup of tea (and pumpkin ale for Mr. Sleepyhead) and leads them both to the couch by the fire, where she pulls out a knitting project to keep her hands busy as Link talks.

Later on, she's working on another project--embroidery on a white cloth--as Mr. Sleepyhead is doing what he does best: dozing off, his head in Zelda's lap. And covered by the white cloth she hadn't pulled out until he was asleep.

[ ooc: I'll be writing both their actions/dialogue in one tag so you don't have to worry about a tag order or anything. If you want to pull one of them away for a one-on-one chat, that's also fine! :) ]

thequietblack

Orion comes downstairs, and before he could even order anything, a note appears on the bar.
Get behind the bar. You need to make a few more friends.

"I certainly don't need the money, bar." Another note: Donate it, if you want.

"Alright, then."

A book of cocktails appears in front of him, and five minutes later, he is writing on the chalkboard in a quite fancy hand:

House of Black Happy Hour. All proceeds go to those who cannot pay tabs. The following drinks are half-off, as well as any brew from London:

London Town
Black Magic
Love Potion
Simple Charm
Magic Star
Black Bitch

As he is finishing, Regulus walks over. "Can't say I expected to see you there, Father."

Orion grins. "Well, I would like to speak to a few more people. Come join me. There's this handy book, and it seems no harder than Potions."

Regulus nods and joins his father behind the bar.

[ooc: Two muns for the price of one! Tag one, tag both, tag hop! Happy hour is open for business, House of Black style!]

demisemidemon

[OOM: Clare's life goes on: creepy handler, demons to kill, towns that pay her to do it.

Until she finds a familiar face in the desert, and some things change.]

ellectrical

Things were slightly more organized when Elle worked for the Company. Everything she was supposed to know would be handed to her on a flash drive or in a manila folder that she'd return at the designated time and place. Code words kept key elements hidden even when they were put to paper. At least a minimal amount of reconnaissance had been or would be done before any actual targeting was involved.

It's... not so organized now. Mostly because they don't have the resources to spare on portable hard drives or folders, nor the time or opportunity to do reconnaissance. If someone was contacted, it had to be done right away, as quickly and quietly as possible. Especially when they knew whoever they planned to contact was being otherwise targeted.

So Elle is curled up in a booth, giving the well-worn stack of papers on the table in front of her a rather vacant look. The paper on top appears to be a photocopy of a single leaf of sheet music, though it's also so covered in handwritten comments that the notes are nearly indistinct from the writing. There's a glass of soda set next to the papers, but she's left it untouched, the ice that came with it slowly melting away in to the drink.

demisemidemon

[OOM: Clare gets a new assignment, and it's not a pleasant one.]

When Clare steps into the bar, she looks a little different than usual. Still the same silver eyes and bleached skin and hair, still the same white and silver clothing -- and still the same demonic aura, for those with the senses to detect it. But she's missing the giant sword, and her feet are bare. (And slightly dirt-smudged.)

Also there's a stiff black card, roughly hand-sized, tucked beneath her cloak. But it's not visible to a casual glance, no matter how much Clare's mind is dwelling on it.

She blinks. Once.

Then -- well, she's here.

She heads across the room. She's intending to go outside, but someone could easily stop her on her way. Otherwise, she'll be found ankle-deep in the lake, staring blankly at the far shore and the mountains beyond.

aaaaaaaagh_sky

There are... some days, and some nights, are a good deal longer than others. Last night was one such for Ellen, for various reasons. Fortunately, it all worked out in the end, and she was even able to write out her account of it. Twice. Once in suitably formal language for submission at the Citadel, and once in much more relaxed language, illustrated for the benefit of the Milliways reader. When she arrives at the Bar, wearing a somewhat sleeker set of armor than usual, it's this second version of the report she has with her. "Bar?" she says as she pulls the headpiece back out of the way. "Could you please give this envelope and its contents to Steve Rogers the next time you see him?"

The envelope disappears. Another one appears in its stead.

"Oo!" She grins; it's a tired expression, but it's still a grin. "Thank you. Can I just get a bottle of Nuka-Cola to go read this with? I don't remember when I last slept..."

She'll be over at one of the tables, still in the stealth armor and smelling vaguely of cow, but she's open to anyone else who might be stopping by.