(no subject)

[arkadia]

Porgs.

Eden has several on him.

He's sat on the floor with his legs crossed, reading from a fairly old and dusty-looking tome while holding a milkshake in his freehand, while porgs clamber over his arms, shoulders, and head, and accumulate in his lap. He doesn't seem to be paying them much mind.

(no subject)

[cottoncandypink]

[oom:
“All right, men,” Jess declared disdainfully as she brought a crate into the kitchen. “Go get the rest of your disgusting fish.” ]

Happy Hour

[golden_lyre]

Since his recent arrival, Orpheus has stayed in the bar, even gotten his old room back. He tells himself it's because the food is excellent and he's tired of fish, and that's...mostly true.

When he slides up to the bar and gets the once-familiar napkin-scrawled request, he laughs softly. "Sure thing, sweetheart," he says and sets himself up behind the bar, scribbling out a quick list of specials


1/2 off any drink for a story that tells a truth

Settling himself onto a stool with his guitar in his lap, Orpheus plays a quiet tune with a touch of melancholy, a smidge of loneliness, and a tiny ache of loss. It's not putting out a particularly strong emotion, but it does tug at the heart some.


[ooc: Done for the night! I'll pick up threads again tomorrow. :) Thank you, everyone!]

(no subject)

[mandercommander]

If you asked Bonzo Madrid how he had wound up back in Milliways, he could not have told you to save his life. Then again, the first time he'd wound up here had also been a bit of a blur (to put it mildly). But he was back, actually an adult (or something closely resembling it), and looking quite...confused.

"...I thought this was just a dream..." he muttered.

Nope, he's back in the Bar.

(no subject)

[deadeye_shot]

Hawkeye has always loved cleaning her guns. There's a certain methodical peace to the process, and the satisfaction of a job well done is a balm to the soul. Not only that, but ensuring that her tools of her trade are clean and functioning is a matter of self-preservation. She needs these weapons to fulfill her job as a soldier, and also to fulfill her greater purpose of protecting her commander, Colonel Roy Mustang.

Immediately after helping First Captain Zso Sahaal shoot down the bat-like creatures with fanged sucker-mouths in the garage, Hawkeye finds a stool at the bar to seat herself. She orders oil, unloads both of her .45 caliber pistols, and starts systematically disassembling them, spreading the pieces out on two paper towels.

She still smells quite strongly of burnt silicon, and plans to take a shower and wash her uniform as soon as her guns are in working order again. Porgs mill around her chair and flutter up to the bar, squawking. She ignores them.

{ooc: Millitimed to the evening of May 4th.}