(no subject)

[not-inkansas.livejournal.com]

There are a lot of things that Col. Miles Quaritch has gotten used to seeing on Pandora.  A non-exclusive list includes large animals grabbing his men and eating them; men suffering from all sorts of new and deadly poisonings from the native wildlife; tall blue creatures shooting arrows that can occasionally knock through bulletproof windows at just the right angle and speed; and all sorts of other things which we need not go into detail about here.

One thing he is not used to seeing is the Mess Hall transformed into a bar.  It might occasionally devolve into being a pigsty in his opinion (particularly if whomever has KP isn't on the ball or is looking for trouble), but a bar is...quite unexpected.  So as soon as Col. Quaritch comes through the door into a very unfamiliar room that is in place of a very familiar one, he draws his gun and reaches for his breather unit.

"What the hell sort of joke is this?"

(Tinytag: Miles Quaritch)

Comments

[not-inkansas.livejournal.com]

Quaritch looks up there and looks down at the Bar. Before he even asks the question, another napkin appears:
Magic

The colonel simply stares.

[morethanprops]

To hide the fact that its a pleasure to see someone as intimidating as this man at a loss, Moist orders a whiskey and sips it.

[not-inkansas.livejournal.com]

Quaritch recovers in a moment and picks up the glass. After a careful look (and after smelling it), he takes a careful sip. The look on his face shifts to impressed satisfaction; he looks pleased, if still a bit wary of the Bar.

"Good stuff."

[morethanprops]

"Only the best here."