(no subject)

[golden_lyre]

So…this happened.

And three days later there's a fully grown, fully dressed musician in the trilobite tank.

He pulls himself out, sputtering a bit and grumbling audibly but indistinctly under his breath as he drips his sodden way to the bar.

“Please tell me she left it with you.”

His hand snatches out to grab the guitar the second it appears, and a certain amount of tension drains from his shoulders as he does.

“Thank you.”

A beat, and then.

"Can I get a towel?"

(no subject)

[mostcharmingsmile]

It's a good day for Gilderoy, which means that he's in the mood to sign autographs. It's such a convenient happenstance that this lovely pub's opened at St. Mungos.

He sits with a stack of parchment before him, signing each one carefully with his tattered peacock quill.


"...H-A-R-T," he mutters with each loop. "There we are!"

(no subject)

[onceaviking]

 Night has fallen and Eric is at the Bar. 

Seated and slightly turned so he has a fair view of what is happening, he slowly sips his drink. Hoping that something better will turn up soon. Or at the very least, something to distract him.

His hair is unbound today and he is only wearing shirt, trousers, and boots. Not quite what a gentleman would make do with in public in his time, but far more comfortable and closer to what he would prefer to wear. So he is going to take advantage of Milliways and do just that.

(no subject)

[againsttherules]

Previously...

[oom: Inspiration comes in the strangest of places]

The door opens a slither. Those close by may see an eye staring at the room.

Then, carefully, the door opens fully, and in walks, or rather, limps Jack West. He doesn't look too badly hurt, if you discount the limp and stitches on his leg and head...

He's not alone, either. As he walks in, he is carrying in his left hand, a cage, containing a Peregrine Falcon. The bird may well look reasonably presentable from a distance, but up close, it is clear that she has been beaten, both repeatedly and recently.

He walks over to the bar and places the cage on the surface top. No, he doesn't seem to know quite what to do now, either.

(no subject)

[sees_them_too]

Luna is home for the Easter holidays, and with no High Inquisitor to lay low around, she is happily and gloriously out of uniform. Striped tights, purple skirt, pale green blouse. Red trainers, radish earrings, and a dragonfly clip in her hair. Whoever thought that something as simple as clothing could feel like rebellion?

But while thoughts of Hogwarts, Umbridge, and Dumbledore’s Army are never far away, right now Luna is far more focused on putting together Easter baskets for family and friends. A yearly creative challenge of candy and charms.

Luna is sitting cross-legged on a table in Milliways, the better to survey her current handiwork. The rest of the table’s surface is covered by a warren of palm-sized chocolate rabbits, which are hopping quite agilely for holiday sweets.

She’s been having so much fun, she’s made far more than she needs. Luna would probably be inclined to share.

(no subject)

[stole_a_time_lord]

[OOM: Just soon later then after now: . . . where she's never, ever been . . . ]

The door opens and a woman in a flouncy blue party dress comes running into the bar.

Stops quite abruptly.

Looks around.

"This isn't where I am meant to be.

"This wasn't where I was meant to be.

"This won't be where I will be meant to be.

"Oh, tenses are difficult, aren't they?"


[OOC: Please see very important information here. Thank you!]

[OOC: ETA: My dance card is full at this point. No more tag ins, please. Thanks!]

(no subject)

[luvs_yogurt]

It's early, by Milliways standards, when Michael packs away his things in Room 15 - he tells himself he's not checking out, that he'll be back soon and find the box still sitting there on the edge of the bed with a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers on the table, waiting for him. Waiting for Emma to congratulate him on getting his life back.

He's going to be a spy again. He has to be. Either a spy, or a dead man.

He locks the door and goes down to the bar for one last beer in his corner stool, glad that nobody he talks to is around.

When Michael Westen leaves Milliways, maybe for the last time, he leaves behind only one message with the bar:

Emma –

I’m sorry, this is something I have to do.
If I don’t come back, I want you to know that no matter – I care.
If you need a place to stay, use the key I gave you. Please.

He's going to meet Phillip Cowan and settle this once and for all.

[ooc: He's not leaving for good, he'll be back very, very soon. Read the OOM for details!]

First Entrance Post

[alwaysfaithful]

Chris Ramirez was not having a good day. He knew this before the day started as he had walked out of Kit's apartment via the door and arrived somewhere he wasn't before: a bar. He wondered if his Advent Deck was activated without him calling it out, he held it briefly then placed it in his jacket pocket.

Quiet he was sometimes he needed to find out where he was fast. "Hello?"

Bartending - or as the worm turns

[hey35andholding]

You can hear her complaining from her doorway.

"No. No no no. You are NOT doing this to me today!"

Oh, but Bar is. Defeated, Clementine - dressed in her other work uniform - trudges toward the bar.

Being given the Gift of Napkin is almost predictable at this point.

"You're picking tonight, too? Fine..." It's one last thing she has to do.

Taking a moment to strew the board with festive lights, she scribbles:


~FIESTA~

Mexican Flag
Mexican Breakfast
Mexican Coffee
Mexico Pacifico

Cinnamon Churros
Caramel Flan Candy
Hot or Frozen Chocolate
Full menu

If the waitress dips her hat into your drink, it's free!

"Sometimes I think I hate you," she whines, fiddling with the string of lights behind her. The night is young, and so is she.

[OOC: Tagging and backtagging all night everywhere, 'til about six AM EST. This is open 'til tomorrow's tending. Sam and Michael's thread comes last, for plot purposes.]