(no subject)

[fireinthehole]

[ Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, Lord, by and by? ]









[Warnings for shots fired and unpleasantness toward women. Thanks to silveraspen for playing along.]

(no subject)

[snowpointvictor]

A door opens and in walks Zoey, with her backpack put up on a bar stool. Despite her rather messy look, she looks more worried or upset than angry unlike her last time in the bar. A small ghostly figure appears behind her head but otherwise remained silent. She had that worried look for quite some time until she glanced at the Bar.

Feel free to bother the young girl.

(no subject)

[walking_napalm]

[OOM: I thought of old friends, the ones who'd gone missing; said all their names three times.
phantoms in the early dark, canaries in the mines.]

Liz has had a long -- has it been a week? She thinks it's been a week. Christ.

She drags ass out of the infirmary, looking toward the far wall and -- there. Of course there's the Door now, now that she doesn't need it anymore. Christ. She exhales sharply and continues on to the bar, where two undelivered notes (one addressed to Abe Sapien and one to John Myers) appear for her. She pockets them both, then asks for a pen and a pad of paper.

She's perched at the bar, head in her hand as she writes. Her hair was probably once in a ponytail but is straggling now; there are gauze patches taped to both the front and back of her bruised left shoulder, visible because she's wearing a black tank top. Her Bureau-issue belt still has its attached holster (with gun in said holster) but is missing several pouches, the cases on her left hip smashed. Her face is set.

[Open for quick-threads, and (like the linked threads) millitimed to Halloween night!]

(slightly early) friday happy hour

[callipygos]

"Who, me?"

Aphrodite smiles down at the counter, fingers sliding gently along the grain.

She lifts her hand.

"Not to worry, Miss Thing; I'd be thrilled." A pause. "By the way … you're gorgeous as ever, of course, but are you feeling all right?"

Friday Night Special

Bartender picks your poison: Step right up, and I'll choose one at random from the book.

[ooc: may be gone a bit for commute/dinner, but all tags will get picked up! never fear <333 and though i am back, post is now closed to new tags! catchup now in effect!]

(no subject)

[interrogoiterum]

 Renee is contemplating going home.

She is doing this contemplation by being at the lakeside, where the larger boulders are, standing on one hand and bending her legs back towards her occiput. 

Hey, it helps her think.

(no subject)

[fireinthehole]

That was unpleasant.

And yet Boyd, like so many, cannot help but pick at a sore spot. And he wants to know what that was -- that thing that's left him with a bullet in his pocket to turn over and over in his hand.

It's what he's doing at the bar right now. There's a drink at his right hand, to assist in thinking. The bullet can and will be palmed.

And Boyd is ready, if it happens again.

late Halloween fun!

[testsubject1498]

Maybe it's the Bar's way of telling Chell she should try out wearing something other than cargo pants and tank tops. Maybe not. But when Chell sets foot in the Bar proper, her hair abruptly turns red and her comfortable clothes turn into something... not hers.

Chell does not find this funny. (If she remembered what it meant, she would find it even less funny.)

But at least she still has her ASHPD and Companion Cube, so it's mostly okay.