milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Orpheus has decided that, given the current instability of the bar, it's best if he stays here until whatever doom is coming actually arrives. He really doesn't want to lose access to the place.

So he's at a booth that is still in reasonably good condition, watching chaos mount with appropriate musical accompaniment.

Posner isn't quite sure what to make of all the changes. He's currently arguing with a waitrat over why he can't seem to get a proper cup of tea. He doesn't want to be a bother, though, so he finally gives up with a faint sigh.

"No, it's fine. I'll manage."

After having made sure that he could still make it to his cabin, Lorne decided to come back into the bar just to make sure there wasn't anything he could be doing to help with all the mess. Or just to be on hand in case something ugly happened.

It's his experience that weird shit like this usually precedes something ugly.

Teyla had brought Torren in for a break from the city, hoping the change of scenery might be a welcome distraction for them both. Unfortunately, Torren is now of an age where he delights in wandering off and hiding under anything at once convenient. Teyla is seriously considering making Rodney pay for having taught him the concept of hide and seek.

At the moment, he's decided an occupied table is the best thing to conceal himself under, and Teyla is attempting to discover which table he's decided to use.

Alcide hasn't been coming here often enough yet to be at all immune to the strangeness that is Milliways, so he's looking rather concerned as he steps into the bar, looking around warily.

"This place just keeps gettin' weirder and weirder.

As things have been getting more and more complicated in Wonderland since the arrival of that Oyster (not the Alice, but an Alice), Hatter is well satisfied to find himself in this strange, little watering hole once again. Even if it is a bit of a shambles at the moment.

Having tried and failed to get a plate of muffins to go with his tea, and having been given a pizza (something he is entirely unfamiliar with) and a tall glass of milk instead, he's going to find a good spot to sit and watch the end of the end of the universe from. He's always been good at spectator sports.

Bertie hasn't been here in, oh...simply ages. And he doesn't seem to think much amiss with the current state of the bar.

"Here again, is it? Are we having a party?"

[ooc: Multi-pup post! Tag one, tag all! This is a last shebang for some of these who won't be coming along in the move. I may be a bit slow, but I will try to get back to tags as soon as I can manage.]

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Will is feeling restless so he's walking about the Bar and looking over the newest damage in the ceiling and in the Window.

Though he's good at managing his sword, the geography of the Bar keeps shifting and his sword bumps Hatter's table.

"Oi," Hatter grumbles, though not exactly annoyed. "Watch where you're aiming that."

"Wasna aimin' it,"

He rests his hand on the hilt to keep the sword from moving as much.

"Yeah, well, that might be the source of the problem, then."

"Aye, forgive me. Tis too much goin' on o'late, I'm na watchin' as I should."

"Ah. So this really isn't the norm," Hatter says, giving a good long look around the bar.

"Nay, it isna an dinna what's causin' it,"

Will would really like someone or something to fight to stop this.

"How long's it been like this?"

It reminds him a bit of the Library. Like a refugee camp.

"I'm na sure. Came in 'ere a few days ago an it wasna as bad but there's somethin' wrong e'eryday."

"That can't be good."

And he really doesn't need to get messed up in yet another Someone Else's Problem.

"Nay, isna at all. But na one's figured out 'ow to fight it or slow it,"

This would be why Will was drinking.

"What's been going on?" Hatter asks, falling into strategizing mode easily.

So much for not getting sucked into Someone Else's Problem.

"Red sky outside, Lady Bar's na workin' as she should, tis that thing o'er 'er, somethin' always seems to be fallin' apart an there's an attackin' 'ouse out back."

"There's an attacking what, now?"

"Buildin' with guns on it out near the lake."

"Seems like someone should call security or something..."

Not that he's a big fan of security cards in general.

"I think they know. Tis a list where folks leave notes o'the newest thing goin' wrong,"

The Security notice on the bulletin board is looking rather fluttery at this point.

Hatter glances over at it with a frown. "And here I thought I was getting a holiday coming in here."

"Aye, I know. Sherwood shouldna be a relief from 'ere. What troubles wait for ye in yer world?"

As there are always troubles, they simply change with the person.

Hatter smiles.

"Who said anything about troubles?"

Which is not to say he doesn't have any.

"Ye spoke o'needin' respite. Most folks 'ere that means from somethin' on the other side an is always somethin'."

"Well, you know...business. It's always so...busy."

"What's yer business if ye dinna mind me askin'?"

"I run a tea shop."

A perfectly normal tea shop, of course.

"Oh aye, must be a restful sort o'business,"

Will's rarely been in tea shops and those few times were in future cities where they were one of many different experiences that caught his notice.

Hatter arches an eyebrow. "What kind of tea shops have you been in?"

"Ones with little tables an all sorts o'pastries. The sorts o'places that seem made for fine ladies. What sort do ye run?"

"Not the sort that's made for fine ladies."

"Oh, who's it meant for?"

"'I'm gonna sing the Doom Song now!'" Apollo quips, too cheerfully, as he drops into the seat next to Orpheus.
Sometimes you have to laugh because the alternative's just that bad.

"The what?" Orpheus asks with a laugh, then shakes his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

He doesn't watch much television.

"Thing from a cartoon. And while it's appropriate, I don't actually want to sing the Doom Song."
It doesn't end so much as get interrupted, after all.

"Probably for the best," Orpheus says, smirking. "There's no need to speed the process along."

"Yeah, no." Apollo eyes the crack in the ceiling. "Seems to be doing just fine on its own."

"Have you heard anything about what might be behind it?"

"Not a thing," he says, shaking his head. "The green thing over the Bar's now the yellow thing, though, and I'm betting that's not a good sign."

"Like a stoplight." He frowns, glancing over at it. "Wonder what happens when it gets to red..."

"Probably nothing good, at least to start out. But if I didn't know it'll get better after it gets worse, I'd be really worried."
As it is, it's still cause for concern.

"Somehow that's still not terribly comforting. People can survive a lot, but that doesn't make it any fun."

He'd know. He's survived a lot.

"Oh, believe me, I know. But it's at least something."
He's glad the bar's not utterly doomed, but he still hates seeing it in such a state of chaos.

Hello there, immortal boy. Dixie's pretty sure's doomed, anyway, so she's going to embrace some laughs while she can. "You're in love with lutes, aren't you?" See, she knows what a lute is!

He'd be impressed! Except that he hasn't picked up a lute in centuries.

"Not really. I could never get behind the lute. I used them when they were in fashion, but they were never a favorite of mine."

The guitar has been his instrument of choice for over a hundred years now.

Shucks, so close.

"Sweetheart, all I hear are strings." Guitars she should be familiar with, but teasing him is fun. And at least she didn't suggest they were ukuleles.

"If you're going to be deliberately insulting, could you do it somewhere else? I don't take well to it, and the bar really doesn't need any other destruction just now."

Dixie chuckles and props her chin against the palm of her hand. "Honey, I'm a lover. I only fight when I feel like winning." Even when it's with a god who's the patron guardian of her vocation.

Edited 2012-02-27 09:34 (UTC)

"Then maybe you should just shuffle along anyway."

She does seem to put him in a fighting mood, even though he's usually not the fighting type either.

She sighed. "Why DO you have such a terrible temper? Miss Dixie doesn't hold a grudge - not when she'd rather hold a glass of wine."

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