(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

One hour after Autor checks to see if his passive-aggressive addition to the card catalog has been messed with, he curls up in a window seat with his hard-earned prize of a docile Monster Book of Monsters. His hand is wrapped with a bloody bandage, true, but the book his is to peruse at his leisure.

He's in the library, of course, so won't you please be quiet?

(no subject)

[knightoftheswan]

The Knight's slumber was full of dreams of his wife, leaving him restless this morning. He's in no mood to try finding a reason to be busy right now, however. So he simply sits on the floor by the fireplace with a cup of coffee and lets himself be melancholy.

They say misery loves company. Anyone want to come and be gloomy with him?

(no subject)

[gavin62truck]

Tommy steps through the door; hesitates when he realizes this isn't his bedroom; mutters "Screw it" under his breath and continues on in.

He may be off duty today, but apparently Bar doesn't think so, because as soon as he approaches her, a napkin pops up bearing a message written in green: Éirinn go Brách. Enjoy your bartending shift.

Tommy barely has time to be annoyed before a book with an accompanying note from Kate appears.

For a moment, he stares at the handwriting, the sentiment that recalls his dad's parting anecdote when she visited his world, his home. He then flips through the volume, hearing in his head the way she teased him for not reading more.

Now he's just confused. Why the hell would she even give him a gift after what happened?

(No jar of spiced peaches either.)

(Should he leave something for her in return?)

(Is she still thinking about him?)

With a grumbling sigh, Tommy goes behind the bar and sets up the specials on the board.

St. Patrick's Day Happy Hour

Guinness (Irish dry stout a.k.a. beer)
Bushmills (Irish whiskey)
Jameson ( " " )
Connemara ( " " )
Michael Collins ( " " )
Feckin Irish Whiskey (duh)
Baileys Irish Cream (sort of like a whiskey milkshake)
Green Beer (alcoholic & non-alcoholic) also available

There's a conscientious pause before he mutters "Screw it" again and adds his customary discount at the bottom:

Ladies! Get 50% off any drink if you kiss the bartender -- he's Irish!

That being done, he leans back against the rear counter, ignoring the temptation of the liquor that surrounds him, and cracking open the Mark Twain novel, he actually starts to read it.


[OOC: Open all night. Or until it scrolls. Or forever, really.]

(no subject)

[mighty_avenger]

It's not the first time Carol's watched a friend die—it's not even the first time that this particular friend has died—but that doesn't really make grief any easier to deal with. Seeing Mar-Vell die a second time may even have been harder than the first time, and since Carol's busy fighting a war—against her friends no less—she hasn't had a chance to stop and breath.

Mar-Vell's sacrifice may have stopped the Phoenix force from destroying Hala, but now Scott and the rest of the Phoenix Five are bent on re-building the Earth in their image, and Carol just needs to get away for awhile. When Cap sends her home for a few hours of sleep, it's the perfect opportunity to slip into Milliways for a break.

"Bar, could I get a strawberry smoothie please?"

Her smoothie pops up, as requested, along with an unexpected bowl of granola.

"Thanks."

Milliways, have one very tired, uniformed superhero half slumped over the counter eating breakfast lunch whatever meal this is.

(no subject)

[crabbycustomer]

[OOC: OOM: When life leaves you high and dry
I'll be at your door tonight if you need help
if you need help

I'll shut down the city lights
I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe to make you well
to make you well]

(no subject)

[the_shaper]

Winter's last gasp, outside; the wind is high. It's cold. It's wet.

Possibly this stops when the Lord of Dreams enters from the lake. He bypasses the bar -- there are festivities, and his fell visage might cast a pall -- and instead goes to a corner table.

A glass of something brown manifests on the surface, next to his hand.

Alabaster lips curve in a very small smile.




[Tonight, and tonight only! Please see the back room before tagging. ETA, 1am Eastern: And we're closed! Thanks, y'all! <3]

(no subject)

[mr_gaeta]

[OOM:

leaders need a bloody war
congratulations: this is yours]

(Spoilers for and most dialogue from BSG 4x15, "The Oath," and 4x16, "Blood on the Scales." Warning for violence.)

(no subject)

[yourcolossalhands]

[OOM: When you find a place like Milliways, of course you want to share it with your friends.]

The man who walks through the Door is not hard to spot even if you're not looking in that direction, on account of his being something on the order of nine feet tall and not slightly built with it. In fact, he's built with the solidity of the proverbial brick outhouse, and brick-like are the colors of the shirt and one-strapped overalls he wears, which look as if their chief purpose in life is to demonstrate how hard it is to find clothes that fit this sort of body. The contours of his face are surprisingly soft, and his arms and hands are surprisingly large — especially those hands, each of which looks like he could wrap it completely around his own head if he ever needed to.

This tower of power stares at his surroundings for a moment, with the wonderment that hits many new patrons on their first visit, before speaking. "I have a feeling I'm not in Niceland anymore."