Happy Hour

[i_am_your_host]

When Emcee comes downstairs, wearing a black leather kilt (he does so love that kilt) and a white tank top bearing the phrase good boy printed in pale pink, the first thing he receives at the bar is a note asking him to bartend. Emcee is never one to turn down a shift. Besides, it will give him a perfect opportunity to practice making cocktails, and perhaps devise a few of his own concoctions.

Happy Hour Specials
Whiskey
Gin
Beer

Or taste test my own cocktail
The UP AND COMING

Emcee debated a few seconds over the spelling of "coming." He decided to be nice about it.

So here he is, busily experimenting with different measures of tequila, pineapple juice, cranberry juice, and triple sec, shaking and mixing, and trying to find the right combination of flavors.

[tiny tags: Cassian Andor, Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Graverobber]

(no subject)

[childofrebellion]

Cassian's carrying a folded up tarp as he enters with his jacket pulled tight against the wind that sweeps him in. His current job is leaving him at the mercy of the elements but he can't wear his parka as it would stand out too much.

When he reaches the counter, he writes out a note for Graverobber that he sets with the tarp before turning to search Bar in case he spots Graverobber. With no sign of him the tarp and note are given over to Bar. Then he orders some caf and soup before going over intel on his datapad, the Empire seems to be doing a number of trials to take mines and he's wondering why.

( Graverobber )

Tiny tag: Cassian Andor

(no subject)

[run_barry]

[oom: taking it on the chin]

It's late on Barry's side of the door, and behind him the lights of S.T.A.R. Labs are dimmed.

He's supposed to be resting, but the infirmary space is too quiet, too lonely, and Barry is too restless to sleep.

The reason for his infirmary stay is pretty obvious. In sweats and a gray tank top, Barry is walking gingerly, sporting bruises on his left shoulder, a split in his lip, and oh yeah, his right hand is in a traction device that looks pretty gnarly and goes from his fingertips up past his elbow, keeping his bent arm and everything else in place.

He considers a seat at the bar, but with his ribs (he's cracked three of them today), getting up onto a stool doesn't seem like fun, so he opts for one of the cushy chairs near the fireplace instead.

Settling in takes some effort, and he can't really say that he's comfortable, but it's nice to be off his feet again and a short while after he's sitting a wait rat comes by with a cup of hot chocolate and a plate stacked with grilled cheese sandwiches, quarter-cut for easy one-handed grabbing.

"Thanks, Ben."

The rat squeaks and runs off, and Barry settles back in the chair with a sigh.

[ooc: warnings for violence in the linked oom.]

(no subject)

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie is out back, testing out a motorcycle she's been fixing up over some rough terrain.

Eventually, satisfied that it's running well, she parks outside the back door to give it a good clean and polish.