(no subject)

[notapilot]

 There's a notice on the board today which reads:

Sam's Fight Club today, out back.
Rules:
1. This is intended as friendly matches. No grudges and either party can break if they feel the fight is becoming too personal.
2. Gloves are provided but not required. Fight at your own risk.
3. At least one person with medial training is on hand if things go badly.
4. Keep it friendly.
5. If you have super powers/abilities, please let us know so we can set you up with someone else who has them.

Also, since Sam is more aware of how Milliways works, he leaves a note for the first Security personal to hit Bar today, which reads much the same as the notice he posted on the board with an added line that he will cancel the whole thing if they feel it violates any rules or whatever.

As for the man himself, he's out back marking off several fighting circles in dusty patches of the grounds. He's also wearing light sparing gloves (since he's more active with the Avengers and needs to be combat ready) and has set up a few coolers with iced water. 

[OOC: Party style post. Sam is available but I encourage you to spar with any who are willing. Also, post open until it scrolls or folks get tired of fighting. Sam will be scarce overnight though.]

Boxing Happy Hour

[notapilot]

Coming in from spending the day outside fighting, all Sam had wanted was an ice pack and a nice tall cold one. Instead he got the napkin. "Okay," he says heading for the big book, "but while I'm setting up, how about an ice pack? Thanks."

Specials
French '75
Drive-thru Daiquiri
Obituary Cocktail

Non-Alcoholic
Arnold Palmer
Mango Mule

"Happy Hour is go folks!" Sam calls out, pouring himself an Arnold Palmer and holding the ice pack to his cheek.

[OOC: Here for a couple more hours, then slows.]

(no subject)

[never_promised]

Even after death--which cures all sorts of things--the body doesn't bounce back immediately from a few months of bedridden illness. But Hal has been a more or less dutiful patient. All right, so he turned down Joly's infirmary offer in favor of an all-night vigil in the chapel after his arrival here, but mostly he's been good. Eating whatever sensible things the waitrats bring to his room. Taking little walks up and down the back corridors to rebuild his strength. All of that.

He would deny strenuously that he's been hiding in his room and the library. Henry V doesn't hide. He's been strategically conserving and rebuilding his resources. Not hiding.

So it's not like he's coming out of hiding now. He's just eating his meal at the bar. Rather than tucked away in his bedroom. No big deal. Just a dead king of England.

(no subject)

[road_to_calvary]

 
It has been a more prolonged stay than any anticipated, but Valjean, for one, has no complaints. He has been allowed to recover in peace, he has spent his days with Cosette, he has exchanged some words with Marius that hopefully means their past is now behind them. Cosette has spoken with her mother, Marius with his friends, and he with Javert. Things are ready to begin anew.

And so, this small family descends the stairs together. They look content, Cosette between her father and her husband, lighting the room with her angelic smile. Valjean steps back at the door to allow Marius to hold it open for her, and then takes the handle to insist he goes ahead. He casts one look around the bar before following them out to Paris. The door shuts with a quiet click.


(Across the room, Javert notices them leave. He drags his eyes from Valjean long enough to narrow them at Marius, and then glance around to see if the revolutionaries are watching him leave, or try to give him anything. Seeing none, he rises from his table. He settles his bill at the bar, to give the family time to vacate Valjean's apartment on the other side. That done, he opens the door, his shadow falling forward onto the empty bedroom of the Rue de l'Homme Arme. Without a look back, he is gone.)

(no subject)

[angry_friendship_wolf]

[OOM: In which there are a great many totally rational and reasonable responses to other people being concerned.]

Yamato's lucky, at least, that most of the dust from Balette Town came off while he was sprawling in bed, but it doesn't exactly help him look any better. Those bruises and scrapes which aren't covered up by his clothes have had plenty of time to turn unpleasant colours, and perhaps more importantly, he just looks exhausted.

He does try to cover for it - straightening his back, squaring his shoulders, tipping his chin up and just generally giving the world a 'Try saying something, I dare you' look - but it doesn't really work, because there's an element of dazed tiredness to his expression that no amount of bravado will get rid of.

(He might be a little annoyed that the bar's chosen now to turn up.)

Still, leaving would make it entirely obvious that he's not all right, so instead he starts making his way towards the Bar. He has no idea what he's even going to order.

Generally botherable, albeit with some glaring involved.


[Mostly recycled OOM and EP here, open until his next EP.]

A Fine Probably Spring morning

[pierregringoire]

It looks like spring outside, still, if not quite the springs Gringoire is used to. Djali is certainly of the same opinion. And even though the fire --an arson, apparently--has Pierre a little warier of the company at Milliways, there's no reason not to enjoy the weather, right?

And so both of them are outside, enjoying the weather and the general lack of noise, and , in Pierre's case, the abundance of paper and writing utensils offered by the Bar. Some drafts of a play are already underway (and some are underfoot, where Djali seems to be enjoying them too).

(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 

OOM:  

...who, walking the streets
Wrapped in an identity like a coat, sees on and on
The same corners, volumetrics, shadow
Under trees. Farther than anyone was ever
Called, through increasingly suburban airs
And ways, with autumn falling over everything...

 

There's a package at the bar, wrapped in glossy blue and gold paper, tied with a beautiful ribbon and bow. Not one of those stick-on ones. Done by hand. And there are two envelopes. The first, addressed to X says, it's only a book. If you must open it, don't ruin the wrapping.

The second simply says Sherlock Holmes on the front, and on the card inside, Merry Christmas. xxx

( When he opens it, he'll see... )