milliways_bar | Entries tagged with carmela rodriguez

The front door opens, and four very large boxes on a handtruck come in.

Ron Swanson is moving the handtruck. He divests himself of the boxes and tapes a pre-prepared sign, printed on a ~~computer~~ typewriter, in small letters, to the topmost box.

The sign reads:

TOM HAVERFORD LEFT THIS IN A CLOSET IN THE PARKS AND RECREATION OFFICE PAST THE DEADLINE I GAVE HIM TO REMOVE IT.

HE HAS LOST THE RIGHTS TO THE CONTENTS OF THESE BOXES. THE APPROPRIATE PLACE FOR LIQUOR, OTHER THAN ONE'S OWN PROPERTY, IS A BAR.

THIS IS LIQUOR HE CREATED.

IT IS DAMN FINE LIQUOR. IT IS CALLED SNAKE JUICE. I PERSONALLY ENDORSE THIS LIQUOR.

WHILE ALL YOU REALLY NEED IS MY PERSONAL ENDORSEMENT, THE GUERILLA MARKETING SCRIPT THAT TOM PROVIDED SUGGESTS THAT A PRIME SELLING POINT IS ITS "DOPE AFTERTASTE."

TAKE AS MUCH AS YOU WOULD LIKE. I DON'T CARE.

And with that, Ron pushes his handtruck out of the bar.

[OOC: This is a plot device. You could turn it into a party post if you wanted. Or not! Please see the back room for details.]

2020sight

Epimetheus has settled into a table. Feet up on the opposite chair? Check. Whiskey on the table? Check. Guitar in his lap? Check.

A certain un-invitation propped up on the table next to the whiskey, making him snicker every time he glances at it?

Double check.

Nita also has a table and a drink, but in her case it's a pot of strong black tea. Her manual is open on the table; it's projecting, in silvery-blue lines, a 3D map of what looks like a series of mountain ranges and canyons. Nita is frowning in concentration -- and a little bemusement -- as the projection slowly pans along a particularly stark set of conical mountains.

And last but not least, Carmela has laid claim to a stool at the Bar and ordered a drink that is bright purple, sparkly, and heavily frothed at the top.

She does have a tablet with her that's currently displaying a celebrity gossip website (the text is in no earthly language, but there's something about the formatting that's unmistakably reminiscent of Gawker, and it's just possible that one of the pictures in the article is of a much-loved British actor with great cheekbones). That's just there if she gets bored of people watching, though, and really, what are the odds of that?

[ooc: NaNoWriMo is over! Rejoice with me! Open 'till it scrolls, slowtimes are my favorite thing ever.]

nepetaleijon

Seeing a troll kid in the bar is hardly uncommon these days. But one rarely sees a troll kid on the bar.

Specifically: a troll kid in a long green coat, lying on her back on the bartop, blinking dreamily up at the pretty lights in the Observation Window and occasionally trying to paw at them. And purring.

Apparently someone has introduced Nepeta to catnip.

[Open until it scrolls off the front page.]

forgottenmotley

Over near the fireplace with his feet up on the table and apparently snoozing is the Fool. He's probably asleep, it's hard to tell with his hat over his eyes like that. Though there could just be the occasional hint of amber peering from under there. His shadow also flickers merrily not bothering to conform to what it theoretically should be.

nita_callahan

Saturday, April 17th, 2010 is a little chilly in New York, a little drizzly, and Nita could not care less because it's her twenty-first birthday. That's right: the big one.

Her friends, including Carmela, took her out to dinner at a nice Italian place, where she had her first glass of Shiraz and her first glass of Riesling. They'd tried to talk her into going club-hopping afterward, but she begged off, telling them she had someplace else to go tonight.

After all, she spent some pretty formative years at that bar at the end of the universe. It just makes sense that she go there when she's finally of legal drinking age.

So Nita walks into Milliways wearing a skirt, leggings, and a red halter-top (for once un-self-conscious about the scars on her forearms) -- and just slightly giggly from the wine earlier. She's heading straight for Bar, trying to figure out what the heck she should order. Carmela's trailing behind her playing chaperon, similarly dressed up but sober.

i_grenfelz

It's early July, 2009 where Carmela's from. Which might explain what she's grooving to on her iPod when she wanders in.

She bops over to the bar, orders a strawberry bubble tea, and plops onto a stool.

Summer is the best time of year, no matter what.

bring_a_sponge

Zed hasn’t been in the bar for a while, so it’s possible people have forgotten what he looks like.

Probably not this much, though.

“Whoa!”

Agent ‘Zed’ struts over to the bar, where ~~a bourbon~~ a beer and a pack of cigs appear as he takes a seat.

“No wonder he’s been holding out on dis place!”

‘Zed’ lights up, takes a long puff, and surveys the prospects.

Oh, yeah. Looking real good.

The ~~Annelid Worm~~ Man in Black swings around, makes a ~~suave~~ jerky move with his cig, and goes, “Hey, baby, what’s your name?”

To, uh, just about everybody with curves within earshot.

quithauntingme.livejournal.com

All things considered, life is pretty good right now for one Susannah Simon. Shall we count the ways? Boyfriend resurrected, stalker averted, totally awesome dress for Winter Formal scored, friend drama eliminated (for the moment, anyway)--

See?

Life's kind of awesome.

... Or, you know, it was.

Upon walking into Milliways, Suze's bright smile does a one-eighty into 'frowning puzzlement,' then settles quickly for resignation.

"Oh, give me a break," she mutters.

the-wildtype.livejournal.com

"Taaaaka~shi!"

"Mmmm?"

Mori and Honey come ambling through the door. Actually, Mori comes ambling through the door with Honey riding on his back, dangling a pink stuffed bunny from one hand.

And they pause.

"Tama-chan must have changed the decorations again," says Honey doubtfully.

Mori says nothing. Very thoughtfully.

Honey has his priorities straight: "I wonder where the cake is?"

"Mmmmm?"

[Tiny Tag: Mori, Honey]

maxwellsdemon02

There is an interesting sight in a clear space in a corner by the bar door. Duo and Filif are there, with a tangle of Christmas lights and several boxes of ornaments. The tree is carefully sorting through increasingly gaudily colored stars and icicles and balls, while Duo stands on a stool and tries to affix a star to the top of Filif's baseball hat.

Come help decorate the tree! Someone has to untangle those lights, after all.

[OOC: Two characters and two players! Come join the fun. Mingle! It's almost Christmas!]

awesome_lilly

Thanksgiving had been... interesting. But in a mostly good way, until Lilly discovered her cable wasn't working. This happened occasionally, reception being a little extra tricky post-end of universe and all.

Unfortunately, this time it had happened right before a three-day marathon of Tentacles of Our Waves and Lilly was so not about to miss that.

Instead, she's put on cute pajamas, stolen the remote from Bar and colonized a comfy booth with a great view of the TV. There are pillows, sleeping bags, fruity drinks, not-so-fruity drinks and snacks.

Now all she needs are viewing buddies.

[ooc: Open to any and all tags all weekend long! See backroom post for details.]

corrie-go-bush.livejournal.com

Corrie is, when all is said and done, a practical girl. Being dead is altogether far, far too big a thing to think about, so she's...not. Get used to it intellectually, and hopefully emotionally will follow.

In the meantime, though, there are scones. Cheese scones, in fact, with melted cheese on top and cheese cooked through them, with cayenne pepper and mustard power mixed in with the flour and yes, technically the recipe was blown up with the rest of her house, but the Bar is a very, very good cook (or, conjurer, Corrie hasn't yet decided), so there are hot, hot scones with butter, and a dead Australian teenager looking much happier than she was the last time she was downstairs.

i_grenfelz

The boots up on that table are high-heeled, strappy, and rather alarmingly pink.

(Recently they've been decorated with neon green laces. They look like they could probably induce epileptic shock at this point.)

And the legs they're attached to are attached to Carmela (shockingly, we know), who is tilting her chair back at an angle that is just begging for disaster.

She's also wearing a relatively sedate gray tank top with great pride.

nita_callahan

[OOM: Millitimed to July 6th and 7th.

Nita and Carmela return home, and amends are restored.

Mostly.]

i_grenfelz

Carmela's current outlook on life is revolving on that annoying getting up to go to work in the mornings thing. Did someone miss the memo that it's summer? And that's it's the weekend after Fourth of July? Some people have been exercising their rights as Americans to stay up until godawful hours.

Stupid work.

Anyway. Suffice it to say that Carmela is sprawled on one of the couches, trying not to--

Yawn.

--Well, not trying very hard, evidently. Good thing she doesn't snore.

i_grenfelz

"Something chocolate and totally bad for me, Bar, por favor."

Bar provides a milkshake with a rather staggering amount of whipped cream on top. Carmela beams. "Domo arigato!" She flops onto a bar stool and starts drinking with gusto.

Today, she's in a pair of overalls that are covered in patches -- several of which have writing on them that's almost certainly not any human language.

i_grenfelz

It's been TWO DAYS since Kit and Nita went off.

Two. Days.

Luckily, Carmela knows where they would've headed.

The door opens and she marches in, takes a glance around the bar, and announces to the room in general, "¡Ay! I'm looking for Kit Rodriguez and Nita Callahan. Anyone know where I can find them?"

She plants her hands on her hips and glares around. That muttering might be swearing in a number of different languages.

river_meimei

"Pink," River says to the bar, solemn and earnest. What she gets is, indeed, just that: a drink that looks like some kind of smoothie, smells of several different berries, and is a mildly unnerving shade of bright pink. The spiral straw in it is a complimentary shade of unnerving purple.

River beams, and takes it carefully in both hands. She turns away from the bar to head towards a booth, to tuck herself under the table and sip happily.

kein_tannenbaum

Filif's been doing research.

...which is to say that he's been reading the rather pink magazines that Carmela keeps him in good supply of. The most recent issues were very enthused about something called "Valentine's Day," which apparently consists of giving chocolate to attractive males. Filif isn't quite sure how to judge if a human is attractive, but far be it from him to deviate from the cultural norm!

So: there is a large evergreen tree peering curiously at the males in the room.

i_grenfelz

The shirt Carmela is wearing is almost as violently pink as LJ's current color scheme. Similarly patterned, too.

'Mela would like LJ, really.

She's also carrying a rather large box of chocolates, and has a rosebud tucked into the elastic at the end of her braid.

Valentine's Day has, of course, been good to Carmela. She's willing to share the bounty, though, if you're willing to be her valentine!

[OOC: Fair warning -- slowtime for dinner is imminent.]

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

The sun's gone down. The food's been replenished.

So has the booze.

A bonfire's been set up, and is burning.

There are people relaxing , here and there, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

There are others, outside the ring of light, enjoying the darkness.

Don't go inside yet.

The night is young.

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

It's early afternoon.

Somehow, somewhere, some magical person has effected a change.

The sun is not warm; it's hot.

The lake is not frozen; it's the temperature of water which has been warming under the sun for a summer.

The grass is green.

In the expanse of lawn between the bar and the water, there is a smallish bar set up; patrons can help themselves, or bartenders can suck up by manning it. Adjacent to that bar are tables, laden with food: hamburgers, hot dogs, bratwurst, chicken, spicy black bean burgers, potato salad, corn on the cob...

You get the picture.

So come on out. The sun won't stay like this forever.

i_grenfelz

"C'mon, Neets, you are stressed out," Carmela is saying as she and Nita come through the door.

"And Milliways is going to help with that?" Nita retorts with a laugh.

"I think it's very unstress-- are those puppets?"

". . . Milliways," Nita says, succinctly, and looks for a booth. Carmela heads for the Bar, and Nita calls after her, "Don't blow anything up!"

Carmela on a barstool, sipping a soda and eying the puppets; Nita in a booth, flipping through her manual.

mendanddefend_archive

Poof.

There's a little blue puppet sitting on an armchair by the Bar.

Poof.

On the floor in front of the chair is a small pile of confetti.

Poof.

The pile gets a little bigger every time the puppet puts its hand out.

Poof.

Bob has been going through every function he's got, seeing if he can get anything to work.

Poof.

So far, all he's managed to do is produce various colors of confetti.

Poof.

He would probably welcome a distraction.

[ooc: ~~Off to Second Life for the weekly roleplay. Will be back later this evening.~~ Back!]

i_grenfelz

The number of neon-clad teenagers in the bar has just gone up by one.

She got her pink boots up on a table over there, see? Yeah, the one with the chocolate milkshake peoplewatching.