(no subject)

[the_man]

Fury comes into the bar like a man on a mission.

He does not so much as blink when he makes the step through to Milliways, but he does change his path slightly, and heads toward the bar. He takes a seat, settling his coat carefully behind him.

"Since I'm here," he says, addressing the bar, "I hear you're the one to talk to."



[OOC: This one's plotlocked!]

(no subject)

[gavin62truck]

One on-duty NYC firefighter enters the bar. The bulky bunker pants, suspenders hanging at his sides, ride low on his hips, giving him a swagger that his soon-to-be-ex-wife used to find attractive. And it's probably against the firehouse dress code, but one's standard issue work shirt is supposed to be buttoned up at all times, and not left open over just a sleeveless undershirt.

Tommy really couldn't give a shit about dress codes. Or smoking indoors. If you can't smoke indoors at the end of the goddamn universe, then screw you anyway. He isn't planning on staying long in any case, as he's pulling a double shift at work today, but he's going to need a lot of coffee, black, which he orders in a large to-go cup.

He's not in any particular kind of mood if you catch him at the bar, unless you deliberately piss him off.


[OOC: Through the magic of Millitime, all threads take place before Voodoo's thread.]

(no subject)

[the_shaper]

It does not take much effort at all; a twinkle of one star of many in the eye of Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, and beyond the uncharted reaches of the Milliways forest comes a shift in space, like a wave coming into shore. There is no sight, no sound, no effect anyone would notice -- but there are soft places in the Forest.

In his throne room in the Dreaming, a small smile curves the lips of Dream of the Endless.

Not too long after that, with Bar sound asleep, Dream manifests within the bar. One pale hand picks up the chalk, and pauses briefly before writing.

Specials

Tart lemonade served after a Little League game in July in Phenix City, Alabama as based on the later remembrance of the catcher
Flekovský Tmavý Ležák 13° as based on the anticipatory dreams of a man in Prague planning to celebrate his thirtieth birthday at U Fleků
Atlantean
Complimentary basket of fried, teriyaki, or buffalo paradoxes with order, upon patron request

If one is reopening a door, one should at the very least make the proper gestures toward hospitality. Morpheus folds his arms, flames licking up his lapels, and waits.

(no subject)

[awesome_lilly]

Lilly's been in and out of bar more often recently than she has in... well. Her personal clock is very timey-wimey these days.

Still, if she's going to be spending more time here, she needs a room again. So she's perched on a bar stool, discussing accommodations with Bar.

"Okay, what have you got in tasteful yet luxurious suites? And just so you know, the hot tub is not optional."

(no subject)

[seat_five_girl]

Ako is practicing.

Step, step. Step, step, step. Step.

Not to avoid attracting sandworms, but to handle herself in stilts. Soon she will wear them in the general bar area, but tonight she is down in the garage.

So there is, in between rows of vehicles and taller than normal, a girl with blue hair.

Come visit!

[OOC: Open until it falls off the front, minimum.]

Warning: wet dog!

[scots_wolf]

Outside, there is a brief but energetic thunderstorm this afternoon, thunder and lightning giving patrons quite the show over the lake, with torrential rains and a bit of hail as a supporting act.

When the back door opens, some water is blown in as well. When it closes again, the bar is up one dripping wet Scottish murderer, and one dripping wet and rather smelly white-and-brown dog.

Urquhart's blond mane looks colourless as it's stuck to his back and shoulders, pulling awkwardly when he moves his head. The plaid fabric he was wearing (not quite a kilt the way they have them in the future, but getting there, historically speaking) is drooping off him, dripping all over the floor, the water-logged wool looking mostly black now. He wasn't wearing much else to begin with, and now he might even be considered insufficiently dressed. Blond fuzz is stuck to his skin everywhere, throwing his considerable muscles into unusually sharp relief.

However, before he gets himself dry, Urquhart gets a big towel from the bar and bends over to towel his wet dog dry. First things first: - and Urquhart grew up in a place where you always, always took care of the animals first.

After that, he'll dry himself and get something both hot and alcoholic to drink. But that will have to wait.


[[OOC: Warning for nudity and sex on the Orpheus thread!]]