milliways_bar | Entries tagged with kim ford

It had taken some time - and Mark's promise to help her arrange the needed six months' coverage for her patients through the school - but Kim had finally agreed to join the pilot team.

Only a couple of months in, she had been not really surprised to find that perhaps she wasn't quite willing to be done with excitement in her life, after all.

She's on her third tour now, and leaving the hospital tent to go back to her own at the end of a long but wearily satisfying day. Kim's craving coffee when she ducks through the flap - and stops in her tracks when it turns out that her tent isn't on the other side of the door.

"It's been so long," she murmurs, staring at Milliways with wide eyes. "I'd thought it lost forever."

bannion_sight

[OOM: 3:33 AM.]

Kim looks tired when she comes through the door. She brushes her white hair back from her face and sinks gratefully into a nearby booth.

"Coffee, please," she tells a passing waitrat. "And lots of it."

scurlock

Earlier, the door opened to let in a patron, who took the relative quiet of the bar as an opportunity to slip through the main room unnoticed. After a check of the stables, which including looking in on all the stock and ordering a batch of supplies, he'd gone over some paperwork and his 'mail' at the bar (including the note from Will about the falcon residing in a quiet stall, which he probably should have bothered to check before coming across the bird on his own) and then headed upstairs.

When he comes down tonight, he's dressed warmly, and finds an open booth with a seat that will put his back to the wall and give him a relatively good vantage point of the room. The chill in the air and the few months he's spent out in the 'real world' are motivation plenty for old habits to flare back to life.

He places an order for a mexican hot chocolate and pulls a small notebook and pen from his pocket, and begins to write - though most of his focus is on the room around him, and not the words being inked onto the page.

[Open until I say otherwise, thought with being moved, I'd try to refresh a quieter voice...]

dont_turn_around

There is a new tree in the forest.

Elm do brood,

The other trees don't like it.

and oak do hate,

It's keeping to itself, for now.

but the willow walks when you travel late.

For now.

noteful

[OOM: Sont les mots qui vont très bien ensemble.]

noteful

[OOM: Millitimed to about a week ago. Visit.]

noteful

It's only after she has talked to her sister that Meg Ford takes the time to properly look around the bar.

She walks around slowly, fingers straying more than once to the emerald-cut aquamarines that dangle from her ears to make sure they're still there.

And then she sits down at an empty table.

Well.

Apparently, she's having an even more memorable birthday than she realized.

noteful

Meg has spent most of the morning asleep, curled up against Alain, with her head on his chest and his arm around her shoulder. (It explains the faint cable marks pressed into her cheek from his sweater.)

She wakes up in the early afternoon, blinks at the light and the clock, and converts for the time in Glastonbury. Kim should be home from work by now, and Meg needs to call her back. She'll use the phone in the living room, though, as Alain is still asleep.

Meg slips very quietly out of her room, closing the door behind her, and steps into . . . Milliways.

Meg stands just inside the door to the bar. It's be a draining twenty-four hours, and her still not completely awake brain is taking a few extra seconds to process this unexpected information.

bannion_sight

She wakes from the dream somewhere in the blackness before dawn, when the stars are darkened in the sky and all the world is hushed to the point where Kim feels that if she stays where she is for one instant longer she'll start screaming just for the sake of the sound.

She snatches her coat from its peg by the door on her way out, without stopping, and shrugs into it as she dashes up the path that leads to the Tor. It's not the quick pace that causes her breath to come rapidly; it's the memory of being chased in the nightmare and the faint echo of the dream-feeling that she's trying to flee from something she can't quite discern that drives her now.

Kim darts through the leaning stone portal and into Milliways, shuts the door behind her, then leans back against it and draws the first long breath since she woke up.

A short time later she's settled in a booth with a cup of black coffee to hand and a magazine lying open on the table in front of her. From her manner, it looks as though she's planning to be here a while.

[ooc: open until it scrolls.]

hopeitsworthit

It's not that Dean really took a whole day to talk himself up to walking out the door to what has been, up until now, his room.

It took that long to convince himself to start walking down the stairs.

(Well, that and trying to sleep. And then dealing with what happened after he tried to sleep.)

But all that's in the past now. As of this moment, Dean Winchester is a free man, moving at an easy pace down the stairs and across the room toward Bar. Ignoring the fact that the number of people in the room feels like being hit with a 2x4. In the face.

Bar's nice enough to pony up on a tall glass of water, though. That's gonna do wonders for his suddenly dry throat.

So.

This isn't an entirely unpromising start, right?

bannion_sight

Her sleep is restless and her dreams are disturbed for some reason, which is probably why she wakes up early -- early enough that most people would call it the middle of the night.

Kim frowns at the ceiling of her bedroom for a full twenty minutes before she sighs and slips out of bed.

Fifteen minutes after that, she walks into Milliways. She hangs her windbreaker on a coatrack near the door, passes up coffee in favor of chamomile tea, and settles comfortably into a booth.

bannion_sight

"Kimmie, come on," Mark coaxes. "You know this could make a real difference."

"Yes, I agree, but it's only been ten days since they announced the results of the trial," she reminds him. "Besides which, I hear they're pricing it at seven thousand American per person--"

"The school's willing to fund a pilot through MSF, even at that price. I'm going to lead it, Kimmie. I want you to come with us. Add some excitement to your life."

"Mark, have you ever once considered that maybe I've had enough excitement in my life already?"

"Just say you'll think about it? Please?"

She'd promised to think about it, but had refused to agree to anything more than that.

When Kim Ford arrives at the end of the universe this evening, she's carrying a pile of research papers and a brief on the Concorde study for review.

Mixed in with the stack is a brochure on Médecins Sans Frontières.

jack_inthegreen

There's a man-shaped tree in the bar.

And then he is behind the bar.

And he is tossing an apple from one hand to the other, grinning.

TONIGHT'S SPECIALS
TO DRINK
Apple & Cinnamon Joy
Apple Jack
Spiced Apple

TO EAT
Apple caramel cheesecake
Apple strudel
Apple cake

He just really likes apples.

dame-salamander.livejournal.com

The door opens to reveal a tall, dark-haired woman with almond-shaped brown eyes. She is dressed in Sphinx bush wear, all sturdy fabrics and neutral colors. There is a six-limbed, green-eyed, cream and grey treecat perched on her shoulder, with one true-hand on top of the bush hat she is wearing.

She stops just inside the door, eyes scanning the room with the cool professionalism of an experienced soldier. The 'cat on her shoulder does the same thing. Then they turn to look at each other.

"Well, Stinker," she says, "I guess we're not on Sphinx anymore."

bannion_sight

It's been a quiet day and an early evening, so on impulse Kim decides to extend it by picking up a shift at the end of the universe.

She comes into the bar and detours straight to the infirmary. About an hour later, she's settled comfortably in a booth with a cup of coffee in her hand and an on-call button in her pocket.

Kim's currently tapping a pen against a piece of paper as she tries to compose a letter.

bannion_sight

--BEEP--
"Hi, you've reached Kim Ford. Sorry I can't take your call, but please leave a message and I'll ring you back as soon as I can. Thanks!"

"Hello Kim, it's James. Listen, I've taken a good look at those scans you brought over. We should talk. Can you meet me down at the pub tonight after clinic's done, say half-seven? See you then."
--CLICK--

It's late evening when Kim leaves one pub and makes her way straight to another, this time at the end of the universe.

She's got a large brown envelope with her, tucked under one arm. Shortly afterward, she's settled in a booth with a large mug of black coffee and a thoughtful expression on her face.

ellectrical

When it comes to things Elle actually hates, there aren't that many to name. Most methods of travel are things she can live with – she doesn't mind confined spaces or high speeds, or even heights, though the reality of being in a tiny, easily destructible metal tube 30,000 feet in the air doesn't make a plane flight enjoyable for her. That being said, none of that minor discomfort has anything on how Elle feels about boats.

The way you could feel even larger ferries rock under your feet; surrounded by some ocean or sea and watching the ports come and go like the platforms at the ends of a high wire. She didn't get seasick, but did get strong headaches that lingered even when she finally reached land once more.

Needless to say, when she'd entered the Bar though what in her world had been a customs exit, Elle had been in a particularly foul mood. A night of rest on X's couch had eased this considerably, however, and she returns lacking a headache or the immediate likelihood of breaking the no-violence rule.

She's also carrying a long envelope under her arm, slightly longer and wider than a legal pad. It's thin, made of brown paper, its lid tied down with a piece of string, and Elle heads immediately for the Bar, where she asks for a piece of paper and a pen.

( For Kim Ford )

Once the note and envelope have disappeared, Elle leans over the Bar for a few minutes, before ultimately ordering a bowl of (blue) ice cream. It might not help with any headaches, but it still qualifies as comfort food.

(And X's apartment is still seriously lacking in sugar.)

[ooc: Open until it scrolls.]

bannion_sight

It had been a fairly quiet day at the clinic -- enough so that Kim still has rather a lot of energy at the end of it.

As a result, she breezes into Milliways, stops in the infirmary to pick up an on-call button, and then settles in a booth with a cup of coffee and copies of the latest medical journals.

It looks like it might be a good night to catch up on her reading, or to catch up with her friends at the end of the universe. Maybe both.

cant_kim

[OOM: London, 1816. Not that anything can make a beating pleasant, but having someone on your side in the gang sure helps.]

The door opens, and in come two boys in the clothes of Regency-era London. The older one is supporting the younger, who looks to have just been on the wrong end of a . . . spirited argument.

Kim hurts like hell. The ache in her back and stomach from where the boys landed good kicks is making it hard to stand up straight. She's not exactly happy about leaning on Jamie -- for a number of reasons, starting with the fact that he's part of Robbie's gang -- but she needs it.

[ooc: Plot-locked for the moment, thanks!]

ellectrical

Curled up at the Bar, Elle is spending another night distracting herself from what will soon be the necessity of returning to her world. The truth is that she's not too good at handling a vacation; but she has plans here, and they're much more appealing than the prospect of heading back to the ferry she left from and continuing the several hours that remained before she'd reach a Korean port.

At the moment, the distraction she's concocted is coffee and another glossy-paged catalog. The catalog itself doesn't appear to be something that could come from any one world – for one, for whatever reason, there's no cover or obvious store name anywhere on it. And equally as mysterious, it seems to only display shoes in various styles, all of which are some shade of blue.

Though she may not trust Elle with live ammunition, it seems the Bar is perfectly amenable to helping her dress up. Whether that's any less dangerous is debatable.

noteful

[OOM: Everything is better than it was yesterday.]

noteful

[OOM: I'm really glad you're here.]

[tiny tag: Dave Martyniuk]

bannion_sight

[OOM: A long-distance call.]

noteful

[OOM: 1974. One of the Ford Sisters is going to a dance. The other is a much more sensible helper than a fairy godmother would be.]

The small red-haired girl who comes into the bar (holding a damp dish towel) hasn't been here before.

Except that she has.

Sort of.

Meg Ford, aged five, looks around the bar, and then says, very matter-of-factly, "This is not the laundry room."

hopeitsworthit

There's a lot of shit Dean isn't thinking about, or trying to not think about not thinking about.

A lot of that's easier said than done.

Which is why on this particular evening Dean leaves Sam back at the motel, futzing around with his computer, and escapes to Milliways for a drink.

Several drinks.

He looks pretty determined to have a good time as he comes in through the front door, anyway.

You've gotta start somewhere, right?

And it ain't like he's got a whole lotta time left.

[ooc: And I need to beg slowtime for the night! I will tag up again tomorrow. Thank you all! <333]