(no subject)

[mjolnir_retriever]

Thor is at Bar with a beer. (Sam Adams, but it's in a large glass tankard, so an observer will only be able to tell that it's some kind of brown ale.)

He's carrying on an earnest conversation with a series of napkins covered in orange crayon.

Anyone close enough will be able to tell that Thor's end of the conversation mostly consists of things like, "Truly? So little?" This is because he's asking Bar about human alcohol tolerance.

Guess who's just found out that alcohol poisoning is even a thing that can happen?

[OOC: You are all awesome, and I need to faceplant into bed. I'll pick up these threads tomorrow! No new threads unless we've talked about them, please, so I can keep up with the slowtimes I've got.]

(no subject)

[balancingminds]

Charles is in a good mood tonight, he found a helpful journal upstairs from another world that provides a method of aiming telepathic thoughts. Its a variation on a technique he's used before but in far greater detail.

He has the journal out and is taking notes as he sips his scotch and listens to the wonderful bustle of Milliways on a Saturday night.

(OOC: Continuing the Marvel theme of EPs. He's listening passively as he goes from his work to what's around him. Please include thoughts in your tags or if he won't be able to hear thoughts, what he will hear instead. Thank you.)

(watching the sky)

[deadman_pirate]

The vampirate with the shiniest boots in all of Armada is down by the lake tonight, watching the sky.

Even apart from the moon situation, which is strange enough compared to his world, the stars are all different, and that bothers him a little. So here he is, chart in hand, learning foreign constellations. You know, in case he ever needs to navigate across the lake after some implausible set of circumstances makes him unable to see the shore, or hear the sounds from the bar... or something.

There's no practical reason whatsoever, and he can't even make up a convincing impractical reason, but it's something to do, and that's enough.

Totally botherable.

(no subject)

[ask_the_right_questions]

Erik has been busy recently, setting things up, working out what he needs to get settled with the university, as well as carefully and discretely working on a few ideas of what to do to work with the cube.

Indeed, he was focused on one of these ideas, when he failed to notice that he was not entering his office, but the Bar instead. When he recognizes where he is, he makes a line straight for the bar, and a pint.

[OOC: Let's add another to the Marvel EP chain! Erik needed one anyway.]

(no subject)

[scarred_grin]

The thing about being Weyland's helper in the forge, when he's doing his serious work, is that the work involves at least as much blood as it does metal; and while Loki's esteemed husband can tell her what to do, he can't control how she does it. Long story short, that explains her old-school navy nurse uniform, even if her hair and makeup are less field hospital and more night-out-at-the-Hollywood-Canteen.

With the kind of shapeshifting she does, she is very aware of every aspect of her appearance; nothing is ever accidental. As for where exactly she was going with this, well--she's got her reasons.

Right now, where she's going with it is up to the bar, to forget the amateur surgery upstairs. It's not her problem anymore. A screwdriver a day keeps scurvy away. Not that that's her problem either...

Company is welcome.
[open until her next post]

(no subject)

[imitatethesun]

There is a future King of England in the bar tonight, bent over a table upon which rests a book, pages already having been pasted together. It's a book of meditations, but Hal doesn't feel horrible about desecrating it; it's going to good use. He's busily, and interminably slowly, carving a pocket into the pages so he can open the book and insert something smallish into it and have no one the wiser to what he actually has.

The T-Minus device sits on the table beside him: equivocalSovereign is signed on, and Harry Plantagenet, Prince of Wales--or simply Hal--is free to be bothered.


tinytag: Prince Hal
[ooc: I may be über slow, but I will get to all threads!]

(no subject)

[a1enzo]

Enzo is waiting in the bar this evening in a state of some anticipation. He's got a god on call, and he's arranged matters with his family.

Now to see if this thing works out.

(no subject)

[valiantrebel]

"We are running out of ladies, Harry," the Earl of Northumberland had admonished him.

"'Zounds, I am running out of patience!" Harry had snapped back, and stormed down the hallway.

His father surely said more, but Harry's blood is pounding too loud in his ears; he can't remember and he can't think and he can't make himself care. Isobel de Ferrers is the last sort of woman he'd hope to marry, but Henry Percy will not leave off. He makes the excuse that he has other business with her father, but Harry suspects he is simply leaving him in the girl's company so that she may grind him down and there may be a wedding at last.

Harry Hotspur is having none of it. When the door he flings open comes into Milliways, he doesn't skip a beat, but stalks into the bar, muttering to himself.

"Why it must be now, the devil only knows -- God's me, if they think I'll let myself be killed and leave them heirless, in Scotland, against Scots, of all manner of things--!"


10:31 CST, 2/25 Oof, yet again I'm for bed. But this post is open for new tags until it's not! So if you haven't met Harry, well... he's angry a lot, so this is as good a time as any to meet him.

(no subject)

[noble_6]

Natalie hasn't been in much since October; not enough doors to the bar on her end, and not enough interest in using them when they did show up. (She knows that people took care of whatever was pulling her strings back then. She also knows the value of making sure your opponents are dead before waltzing back into their stomping ground.)

Tonight, however, Natalie has spent the last week on a freighter and still has another week to go before she steps off on Mamore. She could use some food that doesn't need to be rehydrated. So: cue one Spartan, shrugging on a BDU blouse over an undershirt. Her slacks are neatly tucked into her boots, and her service pistol rides easy on her thigh.

Now the biggest question is what to order.


[ooc: tags may slow if I'm paying attention the Oscars, but this post is open until I say otherwise!]