(no subject)

[thefirststark]

Howard is sitting at the bar, sipping a coffee and reading the afternoon papers. He's mainly interested in the business pages - the advantage to living in LA is that the stock market reports are in the late final editions, along with the baseball scores. But he also noticed something in the obituaries: H. G Wells has died. A simple fact that might amuse Helena. Or not, given how she felt about her brother.

It's also a fact that confuses Howard, since he has no way to tell if his world's H. G. Wells was the man who just died, or a woman ahead of her time, or both. Either way, the obituary is interesting, and certainly the man who called himself H. G. Wells led an interesting life to some degree.

(no subject)

[sunbaked_baker]

(oom: No one liked seditionists. )

Rae's first stop upon entering Milliways is to drop off a parcel at the bar - a small, rectangular box decorated with sunflowers, containing a row of delicately fragile lace cookies, most are tangy-sweet pomegranate, but a few are golden-sun orange or summery peach, nestled in blue tissue paper - for Dr. Lecter.


While at the bar, Sunshine orders a pot of strong tea, and then retreats with what looks like a laptop computer to the darkest corner of the bar room. One would think that being able to see in the dark would mean not stubbing your toe on anything when trying to find the bathroom in the middle of the night, but it also means that your sight in regular light gets messed up in interesting ways. Looking at computer screens just happens to be what messes it up the worst.

So Rae sits with her back to the rest of the bar, the laptop shadowed by her body so the screen doesn't mess with her sight too badly, and sips her tea while looking through the information Aimil had gotten for her. The tea is mostly to help settle her stomach - the information is not good.

EP: Kate Barlow | Main Bar

[ikissdhimbck]

Kate comes inside trailing clouds of dust behind her. She's been working the stables, as usual. Today was a hot one, and it didn't seem fit working the stock so long as the sun was high, so she set about cleaning and organizing instead. She takes off her hat and sets it on the Bar, wincing apologetically as dirt puffs up and settles on the lacquered surface.

"Beggin' your pardon, Miss. I'll clean it up. Meantime, could I get somethin' cold?"

A pint of peach cobbler ice cream pops up as she settles herself on a stool. She eyeballs it dubiously. How can you put a respectable cobbler in a bucket of cold ice cream? She don't believe it can be done. Naturally, she won't dismiss it out of hand without giving it a fair shake. For science, and all.

She opens a ledger and starts going over notes, scooting the pint closer. Every now and again, her hand strays to her chest, absently playing with the necklace she's wearing. It's strangely soothing.


[ooc: Open indefinitely, inside the bar or outside.]

(no subject)

[timelessinventor]

Helena has been in the bar for a while today, giggling over an obituary that Howard found in the newspaper. At some point, Bar gave her a very specific copy of War of the Worlds.

She has claimed a chair by the fireplace with a pot of tea, and has curled up, vocally gleeing over the book. This man was simply amazing in his illustrations!