(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

They began construction on a radio mast capable of signaling targets as far away as low Earth orbit today. Ellen couldn't help but find the prospect a little weird. She remembers, after all, having to break into the mutant-infested ruins of the Museum of Technology, navigate three floors of crumbling ancient history and one mocked-up Vault prototype, and evade notice and gunfire for long enough to safely remove a single antenna dish from the side of an ancient lunar lander, all to get one radio station back to the point where it could be heard throughout the Wasteland. Today? Today a delegation arrived from the Citadel under Star Paladin Cross to inspect the job site, verify Ellen's progress reports, and deliver a dish antenna taken from one of the buildings at Adams Air Force Base after the orbital strike destroyed the mobile crawler there.

Ellen's not sure, but she thinks this probably counts as moving up in the world.

Anyway, it's going to be a while before the mast is up and ready for someone to install Cross's antenna. The thing's got to be ridiculously tall. Ellen's going to make one of the Initiates climb it for her when the time comes. She's come a long way since the Vault, but that kind of height is still more than she can handle without feeling sick. The rest of the project continues apace, with the humans and the factory 'bots working during the day and the 'bots continuing at night. As for Ellen, she and Dogmeat have retired to the Bar for a bit. She's still got a few of those alien guns left, and she'd like to make sure they're in working condition. If they do make contact with the ship there could be usable power cells for them, after all.

So, young (twenty or so), steel-grey-haired, Korean-looking woman with a couple of faded facial scars and nicks in one ear, wearing what looks like a designer's idea of early 1950s American military fatigues, settled in at one of the tables with a couple of silvery, angular weapons that don't resemble anything made on Earth. She's got a grey-and-black dog working his way through a bowl of meat under her table. Either or both of them would welcome distraction.

Ben Grimm - Main Bar

[ever_lovin]

All Ben had wanted when he found the bar today was a nice latte or cappuccino. Instead he is presented with something that is either a cake or a pagan idol, he's not sure which though the napkin declaring "Happy Birthday" adds weight to the cake theory.

"Sweet Aunt Petunia," is all he can say.

OOM

[1nv1nc1ble]

[OOM: Post-birthday party, Nolan does NOT talk with Mark....]

(no subject)

[mogget_cat]

"Don't worry, Marco," a rain-dampened Yrael calls over his shoulder as he enters the bar. "I made sure it's boarded up tight. Be right back; I just want to get something to drink."

And dry off, of course. The first bands of rain are coming in.

Someday, Yrael thinks as he approaches the bar and orders a drink, he'd like natural disasters to stop targeting his city.

(no subject)

[thezeldaoflegend]

A girl wearing an ankle-length white dress cautiously enters the bar. Breathing a sigh of relief, she makes her way to the bar, still a bit tense, but not warily so. After taking a glance around the area, she scribbles off a note and hands it to the bar. Then, with a cup of tea in one hand, and a small, golden harp in the other, she goes to take a seat by the fireplace.

[ ooc: threads with her will contain spoilers for skyward sword, so if you are wanting not to know the spoilers... also, as always, characters who can sense will be sensing her inner ~gooddess~, and they can mention it to her this time. ]

(no subject)

[cbucsrule]

Time to pay down his tab, he figures, and pouring drinks and talking with people, it's a nice change of pace. Besides, he's not about to say no to Bar. She treats him way too well.

At least this time he gets to pick the specials.

Santino Gold
Hordeum
Ambrosia, straight up or mixed

There. Easy. All stuff he knows, not that he needs to make it easy on himself. As usual, he's got his notebook, the one with the pyramid plays outlined in it, and while he waits he works on a couple strategies for his team and a couple new combat strategies to try if he ever gets back to Caprica, a glass of ice water at his side.

(no subject)

[onceaviking]

 Eric approaches the Bar with his rolled-up, ruined clothes. He is dressed n the simple linen trousers and tunic Teja gave him to wear when he left the cell.

There is a small exchange via low voice and napkins, and the clothes disappear and are replaced with clean clothes of the same cut and materials as the ones that were ruined.

He turns and looks around the bar. He is hungry.

(no subject)

[fireinthehole]

By this point it's routine:

Emerge from the earth wearing glasses like some chthonic Buddy Holly (no one else has safety glasses like Boyd Crowder's, in this Black Pike mine). Tuck safety glasses on hook in locker. Shower and scrub. Dress. Flee down the mountain as fast as possible, wanting a drink after twelve hours in the hole, blowing shit up.

Boyd comes in pretty sure there's coal dust in his ears, feeling uncharacteristically rattled by the day's plentiful (literal) explosions. But he has something to do. A little delivery to make.

If he's not sure who he is, not sure about his essential nature, he's sure of one thing, one thing that will never change one iota, one thing that every one of his relatives can agree on: a Crowder keeps his word.

There's a bag inside his jacket, and one of the books to hand appears to be a cheap-looking hardcover edition of Zane Grey's Riders of the Purple Sage. Boyd puts that book with the other (I'll Take My Stand) and sets about obtaining something brown.

(no subject)

[fiery_ring]

[oom: The day of judgement arrives, bringing with it some legal fidgey-widgeyness.]

She is the Ringmaster, and her word is Law. Well, within the circus anyway.

It's been a very rough week, and Carlotta is glad that it's over. But there are distractions; acts to audition for next year, other acts to persuade to stay, and something to occupy Will to take his mind off the war. Preferably not something too dangerous. Perhaps she could retrain him as a magician?

For now, she is sitting at the bar, with booklets of advertising acts. Perhaps she could recruit a fire eater for next season?