It's Halloween, everyone! Join in on the taggy posty goodness!

Jim is making his way downstairs from his room when he notices a little extra weight on his head. He examines his hat (and the rest of himself) and smiles.

"Miss Bar, you have remarkable taste."

He trots quickly down the stairs. He leans against the bar for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then he gives a slightly mischievous grin.

A few minutes later, there is a Willy Wonka seated at a table in the middle of the bar, drinking whiskey and quietly whistling "The Candy Man Can." There's a large platter covered with various goodies, some familiar and some not, and a tagboard sign taped to the front end of the table.

Candy - For All You Good Boys and Girls

Backed by Willy Wonka's 113% Guarantee of Scrumdiddlyumptiousness

Help yourself, it's free.


Nearby, Borgel, dressed in a robe, fake beard, and wizard hat, is handing out candy of his own. The good stuff, too. Full-sized bars - none of this "fun-size" stuff. As a wise man once said, what's fun about less candy?

He's currently sitting down beside his spread, reading a collection of H.P. Lovecraft stories. But he's always willing to be bothered. Well, if the person bothering him is interesting, anyway.


Meanwhile, Kane has just walked in from from the outside door. By sheer coincidence, it happens to be October 31st on his end of the door as well. Not many people are celebrating in his world, though. There are far more important things going on.

Which is why he isn't amused by the costume that Bar has picked out for him. He looks down at his outfit and scowls.

"Very funny."

He can't turn back - the door is locked behind him. He orders a glass of Atlantean and sits in a booth in a far corner. This is going to be a long day.


A little later, Atrus arrives in a rather less conventional manner, materializing in the center of the Bar.


The sound echoes throughout the room. You could hardly miss it.

Just as you could hardly miss his costume. The satisfied smile on Atrus's face turns to confusion as he realizes what he is now wearing.

"What the devil is this?"


And out in the distance, outside the Bar, a figure on horseback emerges from the mist. McCabe has been gone for a long time. He doesn't know how long. He doesn't know where he's been riding or why he left. But now he's reappeared, as the dead often do on Halloween.

He throws his cigar, long since exhausted and extinguished, to the ground. His eyes are tired, yet he cannot sleep.

He brings his horse to a stop just outside the building that has confounded and confused him for so long. He does not dismount.

[[OOC: This is something of an exit post for McCabe - a last farewell before I bring in another Western character in the next app cycle.]]
17 July 2012 @ 07:04 pm
A firefighter strides into the bar, clad in an FDNY t-shirt, bulky bunker pants, suspenders, and boots. He only means to get a large cup of black coffee to go, but ends up with a note on a napkin. Apparently it's been about a month and a half since he last tended bar, and his tab still needs paying off (although there seems to be a bit taken off from helping at the stables? Huh, okay).

"But I'm on-duty!" Tommy protests.

All the better for you to stay sober, reads the next napkin.

"Grrrghhgh," he growls under his breath, as he looks over what's on his tab. "Goddammit, Lou. Eighteen cupcakes? Really? Eighteen?"

And because Tommy is lazy, impatient, and self-indulgent, this is what goes up on the specials board.


Guinness (Irish dry stout a.k.a. beer)
Bushmills (Irish whiskey)
Johnnie Walker (Scotch whiskey)
Baileys Irish Cream (what it says)

Ladies! Get 50% off any drink if you kiss the bartender!
(location of kiss negotiable)

Kids, animals, Bound people drink FREE

Fair Warning: anything that I have to look up in the manual to make costs extra

He'll try not to be too surly.
08 May 2012 @ 08:11 pm
[OOM: What does Butch Cassidy do when he's not out working in the stables? Lose at poker and spend the night in Chicago with Johnny Hooker, apparently. Grifting lessons for everybody!]

Johnny had opened the door back to the bar up for Butch but stayed behind, mumbling something about a carousel? Butch has no idea. He doesn't much care either; his main concern is getting over to the bar without losing any of the stack of fancy department-store boxes he is carrying.

Somebody's been shopping.

But not out to lunch, alas; they hadn't even stopped for street food. One outlaw on his way over to the bar to put his spoils down and get some food.

Totally botherable.

[ooc: open until forever, though slowtime will happen at some point]
24 March 2012 @ 08:45 pm
Ben doesn't have to open every door in El Paso, turns out.

(Though he does open quite a damn few.)

When he and Dan Evans walk into Milliways, Ben's just glad to see the bar's intact; the place mostly looks, for all intents and purposes, like business as usual.

There are some signs — pockmarks, repairs in progress — that he doesn't fail to notice.

He and Dan part ways, and Ben makes for the counter.

"Now, you are a shinin' sight for sore eyes," he says to the bartop.

A shot of whiskey appears.

He smiles.

He'll certainly drink to this.

[ ooc: open till ben's next! or, for, y'know, ever. ]
09 March 2012 @ 07:41 pm
Death comes into the bar from the lake door, after leaving Binky in the stables. He walks through the work directly to the bar and sits down.

I would like a curry, please.

And he gets one.

Come say hi!
08 March 2012 @ 10:20 pm
[OOM: I'm a dead man walking here, that's the least of all my fears.]

When the door pushes open with a quiet creak, the person entering makes it three steps inside before stopping in his tracks and glancing up - those near the door before it closes might catch the sight of a starlit sky, or the scent of cypress on the humid air that filters through.

He hadn't been expecting to find this place again, not for a long while, and it shows on his face. Straightening his shoulders, he heads for the counter, sidestepping around a waitrat who seems to be hammering floorboards back into place.

(It's not all back to normal, and it feels a bit off, but he's here.)

The first thing he does is make his way out back and check in on the stables; after that, he ends up sitting out on the back porch (or what remains of it, at this point - the bench is gone, but there's still a solid bit of the porch there to sit on) with a bottle of whiskey and a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes at his side.

At least he's still bothering to drink from a glass, rather than straight from the bottle - and he's not chain-smoking, either. Yet.

[open 'til it scrolls - BACK! still open! ]
18 February 2012 @ 02:50 pm
Gene comes in having (for him) once again only just left. He throws his hands up in frustration...and then notices the state of the place. What the bloody hell's been going on? He was just here, and it was Christmas, and everything looked fine.

The next thing that hits is how wrong everything feels. The bar always makes him feel uncomfortable at some low, unspecified level but this is something else. This is enough to make him turn around and snatch for the door handle immediately, and he's a man who doesn't run from anything.

The door's not there.


He strides to the bar. There's a note waiting.

'...if I do this for you, you'll make sure I can leave right after?'

Another note in the affirmative, and Bar shuts herself off quicker than he can blink.


Doesn't look much like it matters, does it? But half off for anyone who can tell me what the hell's going on.

He looks nervier than usual but he's behind the bar nonetheless, and staring openly at the weird crystal-thing hanging there.

'It's open.'

[OOC: Last Milliways LJ post from me/Gene! This is the 80s version, and after this he'll be gone until Easter, most likely. Post open all weekend though, and I'll be here for the next twelve hours, with only occasional slowtime. All welcome! :)

Past 2am, and that's my cue. Will pick up slows tomorrow, and thanks for tagging, everyone! Muchos fun. :D]
15 February 2012 @ 12:32 pm
Death, and three of his friends, ride past the observation window.

On the outside.

He pauses long enough to wave.
14 February 2012 @ 09:29 am
Gordon lunges through the door, crowbar in hand, and immediately trips over one of the rats. As he pushes himself to his feet and makes a muttered apology, the door vanishes behind him.

Damn it. And he was sure he'd seen that wretch in the suit on board the Borealis, too.
11 February 2012 @ 12:51 am
[[OOM: This thing people do when the world ends...]]

Teja slips in through the door, which closes upon a wintry early sunrise that paints the snowy hills a faint purple.

He comes in quietly, takes off his snow-covered cloak, and gets his breakfast, tea with bread and moretum, and sips from the hot cup while looking up at that portent hanging over them all, glowing an eerie green.-

[[OOC: Warning for doom and gloom in the OOM, and faint mention of sexual things.]]
08 February 2012 @ 09:11 pm
Just outside of Milliways- upstairs, in fact:


... oh dear.
30 January 2012 @ 09:36 pm
William's been out at the stables all day doing everything from mucking out stalls to just watching the horses in the paddock.

One of the things he likes best about Milliways in Winter is that, it looks and feels more like the winters he used to know when he was little. Arizona gets cold and gets snow but winter there just means more work.

In Milliways, there's work but not the same pressing need to worry about the herd getting sick or Mark coughing again. Soon he'll head inside, but for now, he's enjoying being with all the different and loved horses of Milliways.

(OOC: Catch him at any point during the day or any place in the general stable area. Open until it scrolls.)
27 January 2012 @ 11:33 pm
There's a man in a bowler hat and a fur overcoat sitting in a snowbank out back. He's currently looking out at the frozen lake, pistol in hand.

Not much interesting about him except for the fresh, gaping, self-inflicted headwound. 

He's a little upset, but botherable.
26 January 2012 @ 01:09 pm
Ben Wade is greeted with a handful of surprises when he enters the bar.

One is delicious.

Another is unexpected, to say the least.

And the last, well. He never minds this particular request so much.

"Happy to," he tells the counter, while he withdraws what's sure to be a spectacular cherry tart from the basket at his elbow. "As long as you don't mind me askin' a favor of you."

A napkin appears.

"Now that's just lewd," he says, smirking. "Flattered as I am, I'll have to say no, ma'am. What I need is for you to hold on to a couple things for me -- if you'd be so kind, of course."

Moments later, Ben's signature black hat and his infamous gun are in Bar's care, where they'll remain for the next few weeks, if not months.

He gives the bartop an affectionate half-smile before rounding the counter, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he goes.

Not long afterward, the specials board bears his uniform scrawl.

milk punch
bourbon coffee

While he waits for customers, he helps himself to that tart -- which is, predictably, delectable -- and a glass of milk punch.

[ ooc: open for business all day and most of the evening, y'all. have at! and we're closed for the night, as of 11:03 p.m. EST — thanks for tagging, everybody! I'll pick up slows asap tomorrow for all who want 'em. ]
24 January 2012 @ 08:14 pm
A bearded figure in a fur coat and bowler hat comes trudging in from the cold. If you were to look past him into the other end of the portal and squint through the softly falling snow, you might see his body, lying half-frozen outside the town of Presbyterian Church. This is John McCabe, or what remains of him.

He stumbles gracelessly through the door, muttering something inaudible about women. He continues cursing as he stamps his boots and brushes the snow off his jacket.

It’s almost a full minute before he thinks to look around.

“Ain't what I was expectin' Hell to look like.”