Ye Olde Everybody EP on a Sunday

[ostro_goth]

The door opens, and Ragnar Lothbrok wanders in from a place that looks like a camp-site in hilly country, with cooking fires, and people laugh. Not all of these voices are male. Ragnar looks a bit astonished -- he closes the door with an odd gesture, as if letting go of a branch. Then, he quickly walks to the back of the room and vanishes into a door there; after a few minutes, he comes out again and walks towards the bar to order a horn cup of good spring water. What, did you think Vikings live on mead alone?

Dorian Gray comes wandering in from his house; as the door closes, there's a brief glance of a huge room with marble floors, the walls covered in portraits from all eras of art history, even some that ought not to exist yet. He's reading as he walks, his nose deep in 'The Count of Monte Cristo', chuckling as he walks. He only notices that he's in Milliways when he almost hits a pillar; then, he smiles, slouches on a sofa by the fireplace and orders coffee. He keeps reading.

Father Pearse Harman comes downstairs after the Sunday service, in order to eat a proper Sunday dinner (despite this being Lent -- Sundays are traditionally non-fast-days) of a very British kind -- it features a roast leg of chicken, Yorkshire pudding, two kinds of vegetables, and gravy. There will even be pudding afterwards, 'pudding' being a generic word for 'dessert', and this particular pudding being apple crumble with custard. For once, the priest seems to actually have an appetite.

Madame Thénardier has actually been to mass as well, simply to try and look like a good solid bourgeoise who does what she's supposed to; she is actually wearing a lace scarf in her usual generous cleavage. But now, having made the effort, she gets a basket of chicken wings from the bar, orders a new book that seems to delight her, and retires to her usual nook behind the fireplace to read and eat. She occasionally wipes her hand on her apron, but the new book nevertheless soon acquires greasy smudges.

Katrina Crane comes in from the back, bringing with her two baskets full of assorted seed packages that are all open, and possibly mislabelled, as well as her copy of Culpeper's and one or two other herbal books. She sits at a table, orders tea, and then proceeds to identify, consolidate, re-label and generally sort all the seeds for the herb garden.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter enters from the kitchen, carrying what looks like a breakfast tray -- coffee and fresh juice, mushroom and eggs on toast, an elegant salad with fruit, and a plate of crisply fried black pudding garnished with radishes. It may be a bit late for breakfast, but Dr. Lecter is known for the unorthodoxy of his meals, after all; so he wears the face of a man who expects no comments.

Teja enters from the back door as well, carrying a laughing toddler and followed by four cats who very casually slink in before the door happens to close. They secure a table near the stairs, and some waitrats bring over a high chair, which the toddler (almost two years old now) is put into. A plate of fruit for the child soon follows, and tuna for the cats. Two places are set at the table, Teja is served a clay cup of well-watered red wine, and then, he leans back, content like a man who has done his work.

Lady Margolotta enters from a drawing room the sombre and elegant lines of which are disturbed by posters, scattered papers, floofy poufs, empty mugs of cocoa, and an iconograph on a tripod. Apparently, some meeting of the Überwald League of Temperance just ended. Margolotta is carrying a tattered pamphlet that, however, says TRAIN SCHEDULE on the first page. She notices immediately that there is light coming from the windows, and finds herself a table in the darkest corner of the bar, as far away from the windows as possible.


[[OOC: Everybody is here for your tagging pleasure! Say in your comment whom you want for your charrie, or they might get just anybody...]]

Comments

[jonathanparagon]

Jonathan steps in through the front door, looking a little run ragged but nothing particularly unusual for him - it happens when you live on a night-time schedule in a city, even if you can do soundproofing spells - and makes his way to a comfortable seat to get some reading in.

[margolotta]

Margolotta happens to sit nearby with her train schedule, and looks up as Jonathan settles into his chair.

"Good -- evening, is it?" she says.

[jonathanparagon]

"Evening", he confirms with an amiable smile. "Though it counts as morning for me."

[margolotta]

"I think that plaid man is eating breakfast, and the priest over there lunch," Margolotta says, looking around the room. "The windows to the outside seem to announce some sort of daytime. Time can be confusing in Milliways. What are you reading?"

It's a polite, conversational enquiry.

[jonathanparagon]

"Demonology", Jonathan says matter-of-factly. "Just when you think you've heard of them all... plaid man?" He peers in that direction. "Oh, right."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

After having vanished for a month, Lesgle is hopelessly behind on busboy shifts. Not that he's been struck with a burning case of work ethic, or anything like that--but he's certainly back on duty today, wiping down tables, picking up dirty dishes, offering to freshen up a cup of coffee now and then.

((Up for grabs if anyone wants him!))

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"I was told nobody works here, just rats, and the occasional patron stepping in so the bar can sleep," Ragnar says, grinning over his horn cup of water as Lesgle comes near him. "Are you a slave, or is this meant as a punishment?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Laigle looks him over, continuing to polish the bartop with a not-too-clean towel. "Neither," he answers. "I woke one morning thinking that as I will be here for quite a long time, running up a tab of unthinkable proportions, it would be a sign of goodwill to make myself useful to the place; such as my talents are, they lend themselves much more to picking up broken glasses than to wearing a Security badge. Though that might serve to entertain the customers, too. --New here, sir?"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"This is my second visit," Ragnar says, "so you don't have to tell me about no sex by the fireplace. Why are you stuck here?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Not by that fireplace, anyway. I don't imagine every fireplace in the building is prohibited! --Well, hm, it's always awkward to bring up in conversation, but I'm here because I died and Milliways seems to be the next stop on the celestial omnibus from Paris."

Whichever works best: Ragnar or Dorian!

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede is settled on a chair this afternoon comfortably, a pair of two hollow long bones in his lap; he's plainly carving at them, though not boring straight through for simple designs. Periodically he'll hold the two together to see how his design is coming along, and whether he'll be able to fit the dark stained wood and paua shell inlays in place. The shell's blue and greenish stripes, meandering like ocean tidewaves, stand out beautifully from the bleached bone.

When he's done, he may well play you a tune.

[capture_eternity]

"Ganymede!" Dorian says when he finally looks up from his book. "That is going to be a diaulos, right? How amazing!"

[the_cupbearer]

"Hello Dorian," Ganymede chuckles, setting the bone down. He's dressed casually still, henna dyed into his skin below where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, lending him a faintly wild air.

"It will be something like one, anyway," he says. "When I'm done with it."

[capture_eternity]

"I'd love to hear some actual ancient Greek music!" Dorian says. "Can I get you any wine or absinthe or some Irish coffee while you work?"

[the_cupbearer]

"I was never actually Greek, you know," he chuckles, laying it down. "I'm Trojan, and I imagine most true Greeks would rather take offense at the confusion."

Hannibal

[electro_kinetic]

Noriko, on the other hand, is folded into a chair backwards, head tilted so that her newly-redone mohawk is flipped to one side as she puts the finishing bead-branches on her wire tree. All the ends are bare wire on the other side; she has yet to fasten it to the block of crystal sitting by her elbow, and really yet to figure out how she's going to do it, too.

Even though she's got earbuds in her ears, the cord trailing over her shoulder, she watches Hannibal and says with a surprisingly quiet and even tone, "Little late for breakfast, isn't it?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Hello, Noriko," Hannibal says, putting the tray down nearby. "If you think it's too late for breakfast, we'll call it brunch, even though that's a dreadful word. Would you like to join me?"

[electro_kinetic]

"We're not calling it anything, I'm calling it 'I-don't-eat-half-that food'," she says, still having not taken her eyes off what she's doing as she adds and twists in another wire.

[cook_the_rude]

"What is wrong with half that food?" Hannibal says, sitting down at the table where he put the tray.

[electro_kinetic]

"Don't eat blood, don't really like eggs or mushrooms," she says with a shrug.

[lt_blade]

By rights, Sonya should've been in bed. Thanks to a certain, 'shall go unnamed' monk, she'd woken up three days ago with a bad case of the flu, and everything that came with it. If she were home, she'd try and shrug it off with cold meds until someone forced her to go to the clinic until she was well again.

Three days and her fever finally broke, leaving her well enough to change locations from her bed to a sofa by the fire, trying to bring herself to eat something. For once, she was dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, her hair combed into a bun at the base of her neck (even when sick, she had to put her hair up). Besides her on a table were two slices of toast, but at the moment all she could manage was tea laced with honey and lemon.

She could've easily gone for a full hot toddy, but she'd already had two of them since.

ooc: Couldn't decide, shall leave who responds up to you.

[margolotta]

"You look a bit under the weather," says the friendly lady of undefined age sitting at a table nearby.

[lt_blade]

Sonya was in no real mood to be anything but blunt. "I ended up catching the flu from someone." She felt worse then 'under the weather', but she felt better than she was a few days ago.

[margolotta]

"Oh dear," the lady says. "Is that the variety where people believe they're somebody else? Are you sure you know who you are?"

[lt_blade]

"No, still the same as before I got sick." Heavy as her head felt, she could still recall the last time something of that sort happened. Though it didn't happen with her, she did meet a few who were affected. "This is just the normal flu."

She would've blamed Athelstan for it, but one: he couldn't have known, and two: if she was sick now, then she had a feeling it was only a matter of time for him.