(no subject)

[hecu_marine]

The last time Shephard made it to Milliways, he wound up spending a good deal longer than he'd intended teaching Bumi the alphabet through alcohol (find a bottle with a label that begins with the letter, drink an appropriately sized amount of the contents). They got a pretty fair portion of the way through before the attempt sort of melted down- at least as far as Shephard remembers it. For all he knows Bumi remembers more of the material.

But there's this whole thing where there's more to English than the alphabet alone, so Shephard had a discussion with some of the teacher types back in Rowlesburg when he got the chance. They're a little short on supplies to begin with, so it's not as if he can ask for assistance to use with somebody who isn't even on Earth, but he got some titles and program names and ISBN numbers to bring to Bar.

Long story short, Shephard's currently settled in at one of the tables with a spiral-bound copy of Tutor: A Collaborative, Learner-Centered Approach To Literacy Instruction For Teens And Adults, seventh edition, taking notes as he goes. If this shit works for Bumi it'll work for Mari and anybody else who turns up at the Greenbrier with a bad case of Combine-induced lack of reading and writing skills.

(no subject)

[damncompass]

[OOM: Some e-mails.]

Joshua is hiding in a corner of the bar with his laptop, working on a few things. He's distracted, but wouldn't necissarily mind company.

He's also on his T-minus so repositoryProtector is signed on.

(no subject)

[sunbaked_baker]

One might notice, this afternoon: the smell of baked goods that have been long absent from the bar room; a table taken up by a tray of those baked goods, huge and smelling of warm cinnamon-sugar, good yeast dough, and homemade vanilla-hazelnut icing; a sign reading:

Sunshine's Cinnamon Rolls As Big As Your Head
Cinnamon Rolls As Big As Your Head: $4 or your world's equivalent
(Extra Icing: $.50)

And a satisfied (if tired) baker. Sunshine may be sitting with a large ice-pack resting on her grievously sore and aching shoulder, but dammit, it's worth it.

(no subject)

[guppy_sandhu]

A week or two ago, Guppy came in with a big pile of letters. It occurred to him, some time after talking to the others, that one was missing; he distinctly remembers it because it was a sort of blue colour.

Initially the letter had dropped onto the floor, where it had been brushed aside accidentally by a small furry creature that works in the kitchen. An orange haired hooligan had later picked it up, used it as a frizbee, and hurled it across the room. One of the waitrats had discovered it lodged behind the trilobite tank, and passed it on to the infirmary waitrats, Backup, who left it on the desk.

Which is why Guppy just found it now, lifting up some paperwork as he finished his work. He carries it back into the bar with his tea, and sits down in a cosy armchair. He turns the letter over to open it, and pauses when he sees the logo from Holby County Prison. Damnit. Probably needed to open this two weeks go when he got it.

He opens it and reads, his tea forgotten in favour of a worried frown.