milliways_bar | Entries tagged with jack fleming

liz-imbrie-.livejournal.com

[OOM: You're fired!]

"Lese-majeste," Liz Imbrie murmurs as she wraps her hands around a cup of tea. In front of her is the sailing timetable of the USS Orion; she's circled a few dates.

She looks a little dazed.

Come snap her out of it.

[OOC: Mun cannot, for reasons unknown, sign onto AIM. Oops?]

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

He's going home soon. Very soon. All he really needs now is a pair of people- very specific people- and he can get on his armour, pick up a gift from a friend, and go home.

But not just yet.

So for now Harry Wells is at the bar with a pint of Bass and the remains of something fried for dinner.

oneheadlighthit.livejournal.com

"GODDAMN CHICKENS!"

Oh.

Oh jeeze.

Wow.

I mean, just... wow.

One second I'm running off that fricking farm and next minute, I'm here.

Jeeze, I'm hoping the barman doesn't tan my hide over the mess. There's mud all over my shoes and some on the rest of me and feathers and I wasn't really expecting to--

And I'm on the floor. Wow. Never knew that cold wood could feel so comfortable to lay on, considering. Think I might just stay here for a bit till I feel like a human being, or as close as I get.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Sergeant Wells had good news last night, and got hold of something he wanted very much today. And there was the heavy-bag workout. That was always good.

Tonight he is in possibly the best mood he's had since coming to Milliways, and dammit, he's celebrating with Bad Habits. Dinner involved too much fried stuff to be healthy. Now he's got a pint of bitter and a smoke, and he's going to enjoy them. Let the doom come crashing down tomorrow. He's got some breathing-space now.

oneheadlighthit.livejournal.com

If you're wondering where I've been, I can point you to the booth I've pretty much claimed as my own. Sitting there, eating there, reading there; you name it and I've probably done it in that booth.

Keep your mind out of the gutter, all right? I play by the rules, thanks.

That being said, I'm starting to get a little nervous. I mean, according to my count, I'm pretty sure I'm about three months ahead on my Shadow magazines and at least two on Doc Savage. I'm about on time for The Spider, but that has more to do with the writing than anything else.

Amazingly enough, I'm working on something of my own at the moment. Or to be honest, I'm tapping my pen against the pad every few minutes and not working on it.

Fricking writer's block.

oneheadlighthit.livejournal.com

If you were wondering who that beanstalk of a man is sitting at the bar, that'd be me. Yeah, I'm the one drinking the cow blood and trying not to let my fangs flash too much; it's a little silly considering there's that mirror behind the bar which definitely doesn't show me sitting here on my stool and staring at the wall.

The inconveniences of being dead.

That being said, I wouldn't say no to a little conversation or a friendly face or two.

the_antiangst

Angel's in the bar, by the fireplace as usual, with notebook.
And camera. He's getting the hang of this camera thing, but Mark would probably say he wasn't shooting enough.
...Of course, if Mark were in his right mind, Angel wouldn't have the thing, so.

last-human.livejournal.com

Dave heads downstairs, a cheery grin plastered on his early afternoon face, which doesn't fade as he sits at the Bar with curry, milkshake and a glossy magazine.

Hooray for Sundays.

aj_crawley

Instead of sitting at his usual table, Crowley, tonight, is draped across one of the pleasantly squashy armchairs by the fireplace. He doesn't look particularly happy about it, but then, a general air of crankiness is only to be expected when London is getting colder by the bloody day.

'Course, the bookshop always does seem that little bit chillier when Crowley comes home to find Aziraphael MIA. The angel hadn't left a note, though, so Crowley's confident that he'll be home later tonight.

So, Crowley, sitting by the fire. Because warmth is good. Yes. He's taking occasional sips of his tea, but the mug is mostly being left by one of the chair-legs in favour of the idle cleaning of the demon's nails. There're bits of soil under them, see; Crowley's been spending some quality time with the winter blooms that are due soonishly.

Poor things.

monster-made.livejournal.com

A slightly groggy Kate enters the bar, dressed in black pyjama pants and a tank top. She's grumbling things about bad timing and just five more minutes, but unfortunately, once this vampire is awake, she's awake.

She's also cold, so she orders a cup of coffee, just to warm up her hands, and then sits near the fire. But not too near.

Feel free to come and chat. As usual, she won't bite.

rebelheartalien.livejournal.com

Michael is sitting on a barstool with his sketchpad, alternately working on finishing a drawing and just idly watching the morning crowd.

liz-imbrie-.livejournal.com

The sparkly press badge is hidden underneath the camera, thank you very much. But it's there, and so is one Elizabeth Imbrie.

Come chat.

((Mun is on AIM, thewatersword, though not in crackchat. Do ping if you wish.))

Liz meets Jack Fleming, her not!boyfriend, and much hilarity ensues. Except for the part where it's not funny at all.

lvpd_sidle

Sara comes in from running around the lake, rubbing her hands. "Don't tell me I have to find my winter gloves this soon," she mumbles, getting a hot mug of coffee from the bar.

Fireplaces are cozy areas.

The Bar at the End of the Universe

Entries tagged with jack fleming

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