milliways_bar | Entries tagged with lois lane

It's been a good long while since this particular pre-teen with violet eyes has been in Milliways, and today when she enters she's wearing ratty old blue jeans and a red plaid shirt over a yellow tank top. She's looking particularly exhausted, too, and probably sleep deprived, from the circles under her eyes. It takes her a visible few moments to readjust to being here and not in the motel she was expecting.

Eventually, though, she does, and slowly stumbles her way to a booth to sit down. A concerned waitrat trails after her, and she hurriedly asks for a milkshake and chicken nuggets before all but collapsing in the booth to stare ahead kind of blankly.

When her food comes, it includes a slice apple pie that looks homemade and--when she finally gets to tasting it--tastes like heaven. Enough to make one wonder who could make a pie like that.

But tasting it will take a long, long time for the twelve-year-old Lois Lane, as she's busy zoning out and forgetting to eat or drink a bit.

skepticgirl1

When the door opens today, a thirteen-year-old girl walks into the Bar. She’s wearing black combat boots and a red plaid skirt and a sweater, and most of her attention is initially focused on the Android smartphone in her hand. Her black hair is pulled back in an entirely serviceable ponytail.

And then she crosses into the Bar, and her cell signal dies, and she already has the door closed before she realizes—not until she hits a button to send a message, in fact—and she looks up.

Her violet—and yes, they really are purple, to her private embarrassment—eyes widen with surprise as she takes in the sight of a Bar where she was definitely expecting her family’s quarters on the Army base in Germany. Carefully she lets her backpack slide from her shoulders so she can swing it easily by one of the shoulder straps. After all, if she does need it, it will make a great weapon.

Her laptop isn’t even inside it right now, so it’s perfectly safe to just use the textbooks.

(She just likes to be prepared. She won't actually hit anyone. Probably.)

presspasskey

Lois checks the date the moment she gets to the Bar and immediately grins. She loves it when her more nefarious plans all come together, one way or another. She hurries over to the Bar. “Hey, Bar, I was wondering if—“ A napkin appears, and Lois grins. “So long as I get to drink free tonight after, you’ve got a bargain.” She heads for the back, where she expects to have a rather large baking order waiting for her.

Happy Hour Specials:
Cake Batter
Happy Birthday MotherfuHUGGER
Blue Birthday Monster
Bartender’s Smoothest Irish Coffee

Free cake while supplies last! One slice TOTAL—not per cake!—per customer, unless you charm the bartender sufficiently. Bribes—monetary or trade goods, non-sexual favors open to negotiation—entertainment, and sufficiently non-creepy declarations of eternal adoration are all acceptable forms of payment. Exceptions may be made at bartender’s whim.

Cakes helpfully provided by Eden. He’s a good baker, and is still learning business principles.

And by cakes, she means cakes. All over the counter. Regulation chocolate and vanilla cakes, red velvet cake, cheesecake, carrot cake, cookie cake, angel-food cake, pound cake, ice cream cake, pineapple upside-down cake, and for some mildly inexplicable reason lemon meringue pie.

And when she isn’t mixing drinks, she can be found eating cake. It is, after all, her prerogative.

[[ooc: slightly slow, but open until otherwise noted!]]

presspasskey

Lois loves Cubefall. She absolutely loves it. Last time she was here for it, she got an absolute dream. Thus, today, when the vidscreen pops up, she grins a very nearly deranged grin. Before she takes her pick, she runs to the Bar. Very shortly there is a large sign posted on the notice board

RACING
COME TO THE GARAGE IF YOU DARE TO CHALLENGE
LAY A BET IF YOU HAVE THE GUTS

Shortly thereafter, there is a Transformer in sleek blue motorcycle form zooming gleefully around outside the garage. Who's up for answering that thrown gauntlet?

student_of_impossibility

Lois is at a table, making her way through hot chocolate and a pile of maple donuts and bear claws (one which she possibly ought to be guarding more closely). Next to her is a paper with a headline--with her byline, of course--and she is periodically scribbling on the page.

When she isn't, she is often chewing on her pen or the stirrer for the hot chocolate.

Today she isn't working, for once. Christmas lists are a bitch and a half to make, after all.

When Tavi enters, he glances towards the outside of the Bar and groans audibly. "One of these days," he says to the air, "I will come into this place during the right season. I've had quite enough of winter." Then again, he privately acknowledges he's fairly biased about it just now, and just the thought of it gives him a faint headache.

He's in uniform again today, with sword and dagger, but not in armor. He finds his favorite booth and doesn't quite flop into it, waving a waitrat down. "Spiced hard cider," he requests wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and a meal. And--" He visibly pauses.

Shortly thereafter he has a frankly enormous pile of books in front of him: Twelfth Night, Cards on the Table, two books on the Roman emperor Hadrian (one history, one historical fiction), one on Newtonian mechanics, Critique of Pure Reason, Sophie's World, Guards! Guards!, The Atrocity Archive, Starship Troopers, The Way of Kings--so large it is a pile in and of itself--the first volume of Sandman, Storm Front, and the first Harry Potter book.

The latter three he is staring at with more than a little bewilderment (most particularly the smiley-face on the napkin Bar included with Storm Front).

This is what happens when he asks for non-work-related reading without having a clue what he wants.

herr_bookman

Autor has his feet up on the couch today, taking notes on Schak's German translation of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.

A medical textbook is on his lap, with detailed entries about dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins earmarked. Dog-eared copies of The Princess Bride, Pride and Prejudice, and The Great Gatsby form a stack on the floor against the couch. On the stack is a plate of dumplings, cold and untouched.

Unfortunately, none of it seems to help with his ultimate goal: falling out of love. There's a dearth of classics that teach what he wants to know. Love drives all the great stories, Rae had said, and Autor finds that her words are true, even though he doesn't think his great story is written that way.

There's still a blush on his face. The Rubaiyat is a bit mushy.

onceholyknight

Michael enters the bar today, walking with some difficulty as he has his cane in one hand and a sleeping and tear-stained eight-year-old girl slumped on his shoulder.

He heads for the fire and settles the girl on his lap, humming a quiet lullaby to soothe her back to sleep.

His own face is lined with grief and worry as he contemplates the flames.

[ooc: Michael has just gone through the very end of Changes, and a bit beyond. Spoilers beware, but open to all indefinitely.]

presspasskey

Lois came in from work on Bar's Halloween--but it was decidedly not October in her corner of the multiverse. Which is why she is more than a little startled to discover upon arrival that she had mysteriously been re-outfitted.

In pink spandex and boots (not even good boots, spandex-clinging-type-boots), pink domino, and an aqua cape.

Rather like this:

"...What the hell?" she practically yells and pulls the mask off. "What the hell?!" She stalks to the Bar. "A bottle of tequila. All of it. Don't bother with a shot glass."

So there is one pissed reporter in a horrifying knockoff of a superhero outfit at the Bar. Someone should compliment her on the terrible color choice.

of_goldenlake

There is a man mountain (six foot four, eighteen and a half stone of solid muscle and cynicism) sitting in half armour at a table, wondering if he can muster the energy to get rid of the rest of this damn metal. He really should have left the second ogre to his men, all things considered, but they were busy and he does have a reputation to maintain.

(Besides, taking on such big immortals solo is going to really piss off Jon, and Raoul has been taking a particular glee in annoying his old friend and king of late.)

One of his shin guards apparently decides that it is evidently going to have to remove itself, since its wearer is clearly not up to the job, and eventually detaches and rolls away from him across the bar. Raoul heaves a sigh, eyeing the offending piece of armour with a baleful fatalism.

...Nope, not moving. Not yet, anyway.

(But probably willing to talk.)

presspasskey

“…do not need a chaperone,” Lois says in exasperation as the door opens. “I was going to bars and clubs long before I met you—”

“Lois, I think the rat wants to talk to you.” Predictably, Clark is paying more attention to where they are than she is.

“—and have plenty of times without you since— what?” She blinks and looks down at the waitrat, who is holding a piece of paper out to Lois. “I haven’t seen this place in years…” She trails off. A few moments later she sighs and grabs his wrist. “Come on. I’m not doing this alone.”

Which is why they're both behind the counter tonight. The sharp-eyed might notice that Clark is doing paperwork in free moments, and that Lois is sneaking ice cream and drinks and has somewhat puffy and shadowed eyes.

Happy Hour!
Specials:
Raw Diamond
Jubilee
Tequila Supernova
Kansas microbrew

Free Rocky Road ice cream if you make one of the bartenders laugh.

[ooc: sorry, public transit made this go up late! Two pups, two muns, likely slowtime for Clark at least, but they’re here for the 75th anniversary of their debut.]

masterofgunfu

Andrea is making the best of what she sees as a bad situation. Bar had refused to give her either real guns or live ammunition but had instead given her two pistols armed with paintballs. Now Andrea is alternating between single targets and multiple, all the while growing more and more frustrated as stray breezes are messing with her aim. Of course, her idea of bad aim–5-10 mm off–might not be the same as anyone else's.

Damn but she misses her P226s.

[OOC: And just to avoid confusion, Millitimed to the day before Ellen's return EP.]

beenherebefore

Alex hasn't spent much time in the bar proper since he returned. A lot of time in the library, reading up on multiverse theory and physical therapy and even some work related to school, but not in the bar. Today, that's changed.

Sort of, anyway. Actually, what he's done is put up something on the bulletin board, both the physical one and the T-Minus one. It looks something like this:

( Memo )

Once he's finished putting them up, Alex retreats to the safety of a booth to keep an eye on both boards.

student_of_impossibility

There's a pseudo-Roman sprawled on a couch near the fireplace. He's got a mug of hot mulled cider and a plateful of crackers and cheese, and has his nose deep in a book on World War II.

When this girl enters, she's covered in dust and dirt, exhausted, and is rubbing her neck. There are a few faint marks that might bruise, if she's unlucky.

Blinking as she realizes where she is, she sighs. "Well, it's better than a hospital cafeteria," she announces philosophically to the immediate universe--and the nearest waitrat. "Hey. I need a burger, Coke, and a plate of maple donuts, in that booth. Stat." Beat. "...Thanks."

Clearly both should be disturbed.

ex_doeswhatsright679

Clark wanders in, still drying his hands after doing evening dishes, and blinks without much surprise. Milliways keeps showing up at the strangest times in his life. He wanders over the bar to get a drink...

.. and is surprised to get a napkin with a specific request, instead of the other way around. Tossing the towel over a shoulder, he slides behind the counter and takes his place without complaint.

Verbal ones, anyway.

Today's Specials
Non alcoholic drinks are half off.

master_bruce

Bruce had been obliged to spend the day sorting out matters of business. That is, the business of Wayne Enterprises. Not the other business.

All things being equal, he'd rather be in the Batcave, or out in Gotham. But there's this stock exchange plan to scupper, and that requires at least some paperwork - Alfred had offered, but it's time he started doing it himself, really.

Milliways, then, is a welcome surprise. He wanders in straight from the front door of the manor, still in his ridiculously neat, and expensive, suit; still carrying a briefcase. Huh. Well, this is as good a place as any to get it done. It'll leave time for the other stuff later.

So. One businessman, armed with a pen, a protein shake, and some unidentifiable green stuff in a glass. He probably won't mind an interruption.

[OOC: Whoa, OK. Nearly 02:30, which definitely means slowtime is in order. Thanks so much everyone, loved them all! Will pick up on the morrow. <333]

presspasskey

When Lois comes in she's rubbing her eyes--again. Noticing where she is, she even mutters to herself about 'come here after a good day for once,' but once she makes her way to the Bar, she notices the date. After a few moments--and realizing that no, really, Bar time is different than her time--she beams. As she does so, a slice of rum cake appears. "Okay, you're awesome," she tells the counter.

Which is when a package with a note joins the cake.

After the requisite ripping off the terrible wrapping job, she stares before beaming again. It's a great present. And then she finally reads the note.

One long pause later, she writes a note of her own--pauses again--adds a post-script. Doesn't do to be too nice, after all.
( note to Clark Kent )

A few minutes later she's at a booth, alternating between cake, gleefully reading her new book, and eying the card with some confusion. Unexpected birthdays are strange.

ex_doeswhatsright679

Clark isn't too surprised when he opens the door to the Talon and finds Milliways instead. What does surprise him is the date on the calender behind the counter. He stares at it for a couple of minutes, thinking, then heads back home. About ten minutes later he comes back with a wrapped package and scribbles a quick note to Lois, asking Bar to alert the pain in the ass to her present the next time she's around.

That settled, he wanders out the exit to find Chloe and figure this Green Arrow stuff out.

( the note )

presspasskey

"God, what now?"

The Lois who enters the Bar today is somehow... different from the Lois who normally wanders in. Most fundamentally, there's something wrong with her body language. Her eyes are less gregarious in the way she surveys the room, the way her chin tilts up is more condescending.

"What is this? Some kind of conspiracy?" she huffs

The box in her hand holds a corsage. Clearly she has priorities that do not include being in the Bar.

gordon_gcpd

[OOM: Gotham - Three sets of D.N.A.]

When the door opens, the man that walks in isn't immediately surprised by the shock of walking into a bar, because he was headed into a bar when the door to the End of the Universes caught him unaware and redirected him towards Milliways instead.

If he looks tired, well, that's because he is. He's very tired, but he told the other guys from the MCU that he'd meet them here after he got finished for a drink or two, and there's no real point to going home when all he's going to do is crawl into the shower and then into bed beside his already-sleeping wife.

Three steps into the bar, however, things start to click. Something is not normal, here. And suddenly, Lieutenant Jim Gordon is no longer tired. His hand falls to his right hip and hovers above his sidearm as he takes in the scene around him.

This is not the bar he intended on walking into tonight.

[First entrance post! Brief note: Jim is set in the middle of TDK, so there are no spoilers for TDKR. Post is open until I say it's not; feel free to tag away. EDIT, 12am EST - slowtimes, please! ALSO - please, if you DO tag in after the thread w/ the Waco Kid, please act as if Jim has already been given the 'welcome speech' and is at the bar with a drink. I can only thread the 'shock and awe' so many times. :D]

twiceahero

Coffee. So much coffee. That's normal for Barbara Gordon, of course, so it's not really worth noting.

But she also has pie. A huge slice of key-lime. Which is of more note, because... Well, Babs mostly sits, drinks coffee, and codes. Today there's pie, and her laptop is closed on the table in front of her. Maybe she's celebrating something!

student_of_impossibility

A teenage girl walks through the door, rubbing her nose. She is trying to look irritated (it isn't entirely working, something's made her happy). Still, when she sits down at the Bar, her first words are, "Please god can you get me allergy meds." They pop up along with the standard Cubefall vid-screen. "Wha-- oh, no way in hell am I--"

Beat.

"Wait--seriously?"

The screen doesn't even get to option 2

Not long afterward, there is a Hydraulic model Transformer running around outside. Or rather, it's in vehicle-mode.

Look out, frequenters of the outdoors, there is an enthusiastic Monster Truck trying out her wheels.

Meanwhile, there is a pony trying to hide in a corner. In fact if you're very, very lucky, you may even catch said pony trying to slink out the back door to someplace outside where no one will be around.

It really isn't Tavi's fault he accidentally hit the wrong thing while trying to get ride of he vid windows. Really, it isn't his fault.

And it really isn't fair that this is the Bar's idea of 'Well, Kitai likes horses, you should be one.'

Pay no attention to the grumpy alicorn in the corner. Unless you want to laugh at him.

[tiny tag: Lois Lane]

alwaysroomforhope

Steph is hiding a massive yawn when she lifts the tent flap and ducks in - and blinks a few times, clearing sleep from her eyes. That strange moment of figuring out where she is happens, and then she grins, perks up, and makes her way over to the Bar to say hello.

Or, in this case, to have a quick exchange of napkins and an amused smirk when she finally consents to hop over the bar and start chalking up specials on the board.

HAPPY HOUR
If your drink has an X in its name, it's half price.
Or a Z.
Or if it's a really good drink.
Convince me.

No, really, go on, convince her.

presspasskey

[milli-epically-backtimed to before this.]

Lois looks mildly surprised to see the Bar, and quickly checks over her shoulder. Satisfied that there's no one immediately behind her, she all but slams the door shut.

And then sags against it.

Shortly thereafter she can be found slumped in a booth. In front of her is a cheeseburger, apparently ordered to have "the works" by the look of it, a large Coke, and a plate-full of fries.

tiny tag: Lois Lane

presspasskey

When Lois walks in, she looks a little frazzled--but she's smiling. The last few days have sucked on an epic level, but at least she had a great homemade dinner, and at least she's not kicked out of the house.

Even if she's still sneezing off the residue of Shelby jumping all over her.

So when she sits down at the Bar and orders some orange juice, she is quite surprised to get a little napkin. Frowning at it, she tilts her head. "Really? Sure, I've done it before. I just thought--" Another napkin. and Lois grins.

"Okay, now we're talking!"

Today's Specials:
Harpoon India Pale Ale
Screwdriver
Tequila Sunrise
Cocktail made to order

With a satisfied look, Lois brushes chalk off her hands. "Happy Hour is a go, everyone!" she calls

About fifteen minutes after the shift starts, though, another line appears beneath the specials:

Half-off for buying the bartender a drink.

Tiny tag: Lois Lane

presspasskey

Lois looks a little tired when she walks in. Face she presents in front of Clark and his parents or no, this week has not been a good one.

First the whole accused-of-killing-a-guy thing, then the whole murderous football player thing, and the nearly drowning thing--

(oh god how she hates drowning oh god oh god)

--and of course the whole kicked-out-of-college thing. Goddammit. And considering she has no idea how much this Bar will know, and that she got kicked out for multiple infractions including lots of underage drinking...

Yeah, she's not getting the alcohol she desperately needs.

Which is why there is a slightly frazzled looking teen at the Bar, making a list of what looks like might be job options.

(tiny tag: Lois Lane)