Bearplot!

[rudderless]

Eponine has a habit that she hasn't told her brother about - a habit of asking Bar to store things for her. Bits of money and sometimes bits of non-perishable food.

She remembers too well what it feels like to be deprived of sustenance.

When she enters with a small billfold of lace, she's therefore surprised when Bar presents her with a piece of cake. It smells...interesting.

You can find her poking said cake with a fork thoughtfully.

[OOC: Open 'til it scrolls off the front page!]

Bearplot

[holdingacat]

While Cecil is willing to accept quite a number of things of a world connected to his own by an inter-dimensional portal, he's fairly sure that some things are actually problems.

A vast uptick in the number of bears?

That can't be right. Right?

More alarming, there doesn't seem to be any large-scale reporting, or warning, or... anything. Just bears. This calls for a response.

This calls... for a radio host.

After a long conversation with Bar, Cecil has the keys to a room, and a rather large box he hefts off towards the stairs.






Hours later, a deep voice suddenly breaks in over the bar's AV system. Maybe not everywhere, maybe not everywhen - it's a large bar, and relies on an AV system that has to keep up with a building that fails to keep a constant configuration.

Of those who say nothing, few are silent. Most are trying to warn you, but duct tape is efficient. Welcome... to Milliways Pirate Radio.

In our lead story tonight, bears appear to be appearing throughout the bar. Where have they come from? What do they want with us? These are questions that may be asked on such a situation, but none of the bears appear to be answering questions at this time.

Dear listeners, as you know, bears are attracted by many things - honey, campsites, ineffectively locked and food-laden cars, tutus, improvisation, and picnic baskets. For your safety, please avoid these items at this time, until the crisis is over. If this is impossible for you, make sure your will is in order and you have said your goodbyes to those you would like to say goodbye to.

If anyone knows how this has started, please shout 'help, Secret Police' into the nearest hidden microphone near you. Actually, I'm not sure if that's how things work here, but if you shout loud enough, it won't matter if there are hidden microphones or not.

More on this story as it continues to develop. And remember, dear Listeners - we always regret what is not said to those we love once they are gone. Thus, make sure to enjoy the presence of those who come here after death - somewhere, somewhen, someone would appreciate you buying that missed person a drink.

Goodnight, Milliways... Goodnight.

The voice is then gone, and somewhere upstairs, Cecil leans back in his chair, and considers the ceiling. Well... it's a start.

(no subject)

[guppy_sandhu]

[oom: The smallest small person makes a friend.]