Happy Hour

[king_gary]

Gary doesn't so much stumble into the bar today, as much as walks in with a sense of purpose. That purpose is quite simple: take advantage of his tab here until someone finally catches wise and kicks his ass for not paying. When he orders his first drink, he gets a napkin instead. It seems someone's already onto him, but the solution is perhaps not the best one. Well, Gary thinks it's brilliant, but Gary doesn't count.

Specials:

BEER
SHOTS

Gary King is bartending tonight. The odds of free or cheap drinks for everyone have just gone up exponentially.

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Now that Point Lookout's been dealt with, Ellen's back under Senior Paladin Tristan's command. Right now, that means she's assigned to Megaton garrison duty (hey, somebody's got to keep an eye on Moira Brown's printing works) for a span of not less than three weeks, possibly more.

She doubts it'll be more, but it's nice to pretend, sometimes.

She's caught up on matters around town and stopped by Springvale to check on the former Lamplight kids, as well as pick up Fawkes' Rarity-made shirt, which was in need of finer repair than she could handle. The first round of experimental punga seeds have been planted, despite the time of year; the bombs changed the climate pretty badly, and the Wasteland doesn't so much have a winter as a storm season, so she figures it's as good a time as any to try. Not like she could ask any of the tribals the best time of year for the damned things. Not like she would, unless she was ordered to and had no other choice. She'd have to go back, and that's not going to happen. Not ever.

For now she's at Milliways, because her day's work is done. There are people she'd like to talk to beyond the basics of catching up, but she needs a little time to think about things first, and the Bar is good for that. Also for getting dinner, because it's kind of nice to actually have a choice in the matter some days. In deference to a long-ago promise to Bill Guarnere, she's gone for real food this time, although she finds roasted chicken kind of weird. It doesn't taste much like anything she's all that familiar with.

Feel free to drop by and bother. She's fine with that.

(no subject)

[hecu_marine]

Shephard's done his duty for the day back home. Most men would be asleep or busy with their significant others right about now. Eleanor's up to her elbows in helicopter engine, though, and Shephard's not tired. Milliways, you get one Marine and a freshly tanned.... um....

Well, it's mostly muddy brown-yellow, it's covered with black-ringed ruddy spots, and it's got way too few legs and way too many dangly bits coming off the front end to be the hide of a standard Earth animal. But it's a freshly tanned hide and Shephard's working on cutting it into usable pieces at his table while a couple of the houndeyes from his personal fleet chase each other and wrestle under his table.

He could, of course, be bothered.

(no subject)

[neverbelievedintheend]

There was a kaiju attack on St. Lawrence Island today. The memorial service for Gunnar and Vic Tunari is scheduled for three days from now.

Pentecost is not about to admit it in front of everyone in the Shatterdome, but he needs to punch something.

Perhaps there will be an opportunity somewhere at Milliways.

OOM, 1 year ago

[nomorekaraoke]

When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye

I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
I... have become comfortably numb

(no subject)

[sunbaked_baker]

She hadn't slept well the night before, curled up in the pillow-strewn chair in her room. Either nightmares or worrying about Autor kept waking her up.


This current nap, sitting at the kitchen table with her head resting on her crossed arms, anatomy textbook and Encantus both left open, was utterly unplanned.

(no subject)

[street_sparrow]

He's finished his picture to his satisfaction, even given it a little colour in the face and dress, and now Gavroche approaches the Bar in a solemn mood.

"Bar, could you put this in a frame for me?"

The drawing he lays very carefully on her surface - and that vanishes to reappear a moment later perfectly framed - is of a pretty, if a little too thin, teenage girl with dark hair, standing looking directly forward with a faint smile on her lips, in a street drawn with much less care to detail, next to a roughly-sketched cart.

Under her feet, the words "Eponine Thenardier.  What's loved, lives."

Gavroche brushes a tender hand over the glass, thanks Bar, and sits on a bar stool for his drink.

Entirely botherable.

(no subject)

[hisonegoodeye]

[OOM: Moscow, Russian Federation: In the end Agent Romanoff is so easy to find, it's almost like she wants SHIELD to find her.]