Oct. 24th, 2012
Happy Hour (Remade edition)
Oct. 24th, 2012 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freemade_mantisThe atmosphere anymore doesn't bother Jack at all; what's horror or a sense of foreboding, after the punishment factories (or the sewers of New Crobuzon)? He's in exactly the same tense mood he always is, as he approaches the bar tonight.
But this? The note that appears for him? That's new. He works his way through the note, looks down at his arm in the sling, looks at the note again... and just sighs tiredly as he heads around to the other side of the bar.
His handwriting on the specials board is terrible, a fact one can blame on the nonexistent public education in his city (and also the fact that he didn't start out left-handed). Eventually, it says:
Specials
Beer
Wine
Whiskey
Tea
With that, he sets about making a pot of tea. Better to be prepared ahead of time.
But this? The note that appears for him? That's new. He works his way through the note, looks down at his arm in the sling, looks at the note again... and just sighs tiredly as he heads around to the other side of the bar.
His handwriting on the specials board is terrible, a fact one can blame on the nonexistent public education in his city (and also the fact that he didn't start out left-handed). Eventually, it says:
Beer
Wine
Whiskey
Tea
With that, he sets about making a pot of tea. Better to be prepared ahead of time.
(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2012 07:21 pmmax_epperMax enters the bar tonight reasonably happy with his day. The start of term may be tiring, but one soon settles down into a certain rhythm.
Until you walk into a bar at the end of the day, instead of leaving your office.
"Oh, this place again."
With that, he heads over to the bar and orders a Gin and Tonic.
Until you walk into a bar at the end of the day, instead of leaving your office.
"Oh, this place again."
With that, he heads over to the bar and orders a Gin and Tonic.
(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2012 07:47 pmgotham_knockingKnox enters, wearing a Santa hat. Out of season? Maybe in the Bar. But at home it's Christmas Eve, and he's made good his escape from the office party. Not many people come to a bar to escape from excess. But reporters know how to get drunk, and sometimes it's a bit much even for another reporter.
He orders a glass of water and a coffee, hoping to sober up enough to get to the next party, and then home. And leaves the hat on, because it's a Santa hat.
[ooc: open till it scrolls.]
He orders a glass of water and a coffee, hoping to sober up enough to get to the next party, and then home. And leaves the hat on, because it's a Santa hat.
[ooc: open till it scrolls.]
(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2012 10:40 pmhowling_laughCoyote steps into the bar with a smile!
Which she promptly loses once she gets a whiff of the air inside. Ew. It smells like boogeyman in here. Who let the riffraff in?
Oh well. It doesn't stop her from getting a beer. She does light up a cigarette to kill the smell, and is watching the crowd a little more suspiciously than is her wont.
Which she promptly loses once she gets a whiff of the air inside. Ew. It smells like boogeyman in here. Who let the riffraff in?
Oh well. It doesn't stop her from getting a beer. She does light up a cigarette to kill the smell, and is watching the crowd a little more suspiciously than is her wont.
(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2012 10:43 pmguppy_sandhuGuppy has no idea how he got in this situation.
Well, at some point he had a nightmare, and he could have sworn he saw that... monster thing in his room. And it was between him and the door. So the logical thing to do is escape out the window. It's only a first floor window...
He's three quarters out the window, in his pyjamas, when he realises 1. that there is nothing in his room, 2. he can't get back in, and 3. that the view out his window was the illusion of lakeside, and he's now dangling over a large open wheelie bin of ick.
Oh, hang on, there's that bit of roof that people sometimes sit on. He reaches for a drainpipe and manages to get there from the windowsill. Now, just to get a couple of metres further...
Okay he maaay be stuck.
His pyjamas have bunnies on, but aren't, sadly, all that warm. He clings to the drainpipe and tries to work out if he can shimmy down it...
Well, at some point he had a nightmare, and he could have sworn he saw that... monster thing in his room. And it was between him and the door. So the logical thing to do is escape out the window. It's only a first floor window...
He's three quarters out the window, in his pyjamas, when he realises 1. that there is nothing in his room, 2. he can't get back in, and 3. that the view out his window was the illusion of lakeside, and he's now dangling over a large open wheelie bin of ick.
Oh, hang on, there's that bit of roof that people sometimes sit on. He reaches for a drainpipe and manages to get there from the windowsill. Now, just to get a couple of metres further...
Okay he maaay be stuck.
His pyjamas have bunnies on, but aren't, sadly, all that warm. He clings to the drainpipe and tries to work out if he can shimmy down it...
(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2012 10:52 pmwalking_napalm[OOM: Out back, Hellboy had said. He'd seen something in the trees; something that had unsettled him.]
The first thing that Liz does, upon staggering into the bar, is to look around wildly.
The second thing -- after not seeing Abe, Myers, Charlie, Laura, or anyone else who's immediately familiar, within her field of vision -- is to go for the door.
The third thing is staring at the blank stretch of wall where a door should be.
Liz takes several breaths, white-faced with her fists clenched at her sides and fire surging beneath her skin, her eyes shining an unearthly blue. Breathing deeply tickles the back of her throat and she coughs, then lifts shaky hands to her face. "Fuck," she says, into the heels of her hands. "Fuck, fuck fuck."
She lowers her hands. It's all on her, she tells herself. She can't get to the Bureau to recruit help. She's got to be smart about this. She looks around again, the light in her eyes fading to brown, and then she heads for a stool. A sharp word with Bar brings a pad of paper and a pen, and she scrawls two quick identical notes and leaves them with Bar.
On her way to the stairs, Liz spots a green-lettered sign, and she slows, then stops in front of it. She reads it three times. Then she goes slamming up the stairs.
The first thing that Liz does, upon staggering into the bar, is to look around wildly.
The second thing -- after not seeing Abe, Myers, Charlie, Laura, or anyone else who's immediately familiar, within her field of vision -- is to go for the door.
The third thing is staring at the blank stretch of wall where a door should be.
Liz takes several breaths, white-faced with her fists clenched at her sides and fire surging beneath her skin, her eyes shining an unearthly blue. Breathing deeply tickles the back of her throat and she coughs, then lifts shaky hands to her face. "Fuck," she says, into the heels of her hands. "Fuck, fuck fuck."
She lowers her hands. It's all on her, she tells herself. She can't get to the Bureau to recruit help. She's got to be smart about this. She looks around again, the light in her eyes fading to brown, and then she heads for a stool. A sharp word with Bar brings a pad of paper and a pen, and she scrawls two quick identical notes and leaves them with Bar.
On her way to the stairs, Liz spots a green-lettered sign, and she slows, then stops in front of it. She reads it three times. Then she goes slamming up the stairs.
(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2012 11:13 pmmnt_mikeOne week ago a symbol appeared on Bar's top.
The symbol of a crossed out circle.
The Operator Symbol, some are calling it.
It wasn't violently placed.
Not carved or cut, but rather formed in the swirls and lines of the very grain of her surface.
Beautiful and haunting, as the best works of nature are.
But now, one week later...it is gone.
Disappeared entirely, as if it never existed there in the first place.
Curious, that.
The symbol of a crossed out circle.
The Operator Symbol, some are calling it.
It wasn't violently placed.
Not carved or cut, but rather formed in the swirls and lines of the very grain of her surface.
Beautiful and haunting, as the best works of nature are.
But now, one week later...it is gone.
Disappeared entirely, as if it never existed there in the first place.
Curious, that.
