milliways_bar | Entries tagged with malcolm crowe

At this time of year, one expects to see figures in red and white carrying sacks full of gifts.

One does not expect them those figures to be nine-foot-tall combat droids. But that's exactly what lumbers into Milliways today. He walks up to Bar, beeps out an inquiry in Morse code, and gets a napkin in response. He then very carefully sets down his sack and places the parcels inside on the bartop one by one, and Bar in turn makes them vanish.

( for the various and sundry people mentioned in the tags )

[ooc: If you think your pup should have been on the list but wasn't, let me know and I'll add them to the tags. Happy Holidays!]

k_in_black

A man in a black suit steps halfway through the Door, and actually smiles, just a little. He closes the Door, and heads for Bar--when his phone rings. He sighs and answers it.

"Agent K. Yes, Chief. I've been here for all of 2.6 seconds. Is this call really worth the 64 petajoules a secon--?"

"--Where? I'm here... No, HERE here. Looks like the Landlord wants us around agai--."

Agent K jerks the phone away as a sudden burst of rage and fury erupts over the phone, loud enough to hear from several yards off.

K waits for the roars to die down and then puts the phone back to his ear. "Yup. I'll let Him know that if I see Him. K out."

K has a half-smile again--for a different reason now--as he walks the rest of the way to Bar, but it evaporates at the sight of a certain psychiatrist sitting there, who also hasn't been around lately.

Malcolm Crowe doesn't look any happier to see K. "Figures. Back down here in who knows how long, and the first face I recognize would be you."

A glass of Eli Lockhart's finest bourbon is waiting for K as he sits. "Still haven't found a house that'll let you haunt it?"

"I might belong in a mortuary, but at least I don't go around looking like it."

"Never could figure out why Peter and Ray never got around to you."

Malcolm mutters, "Never a Middleman around when you need one."

[Pick one! I'd say thread both, but they're irritated enough at having to share a post. Random, cross-thread snark is, however, a definite possibility.]

[Update: Limited tagging happening on Tuesday but will be back at it on Wednesday, so feel free to tag.]

guppy_sandhu

Guppy hasn't got a lot of time before preparing for a very busy couple of days, but he drops off a collection of little packages at the tree. (Except for Gavroche who got his yesterday.) With each one comes a card the kids helped make and then copied.

( Enzo, Hannibal, Zhaan, Thirteen, Malcolm, Charles Xavier, Doc, Knox, any other medics/heroes/reducers of damage )

( Atton, Kate Barlow, Michaelangelo, Raphael, Sherlock, Will Scarlett, Gene Hunt, Ben Grimm, Javert, Teja, Amanda, Mia, Ginny, any other cops/heroes/fighters )

He also carefully deposits some presents Fry has been making from salt dough.
Some of them may take a little deciphering.

( Enzo, Hannibal, Charles Xavier, Atton, Kate Barlow, Mikey, Raph, Sherlock, Teja, Gene )

He hangs around a few minutes to check if anything is going on before heading back to the excited small people at home.

[ooc: Guppy and I have been kicking around for nearly nine years, we've talked to a lot of people - if you feel your pup is missing off this list please add yourself to the appropriate category, or if you have an overlap, pick one :)]

spooky_shrink

Malcolm is celebrating reason #2323 why it's not such a bad thing to be post-living: no taxes to file this week.

That's why he's sipping that Glenmorangie, though actually, he doesn't really need a reason. The rest of his attention is directed at the tablet he has on the bar in front of him.

He's protecting his front lawn from zombies. Because classics never get old.

spooky_shrink

Malcolm back in the bar at what passes for "late at night."

Time might not pass by here really, but the bar does have times that are quieter than others, and that's a good time to read the latest psychiatric articles.

Life as a shrink. The excitement never ends.

not_his_pa

OOM: O FATHER of mercies and God of all comfort, our only help in time of need; Look down from heaven, we humbly beseech thee, behold, visit, and relieve thy sick servant for whom our prayers are desired.

Prayer for a Sick Person from Selections from the Book of Common Prayer 1863

After his nightmare, William couldn't get back to sleep and finally got up as he kept imagining things in the shadows.

Downstairs he checked for his door, but of course it wasn't there and he went to the counter when his cough started up again. A tea appeared for him, which he didn't drink just stared at before resting his head on his arms, it was just a dream.

Later he asked for a pen and paper, he had to write to Scurlock and Caspian to figure out what to do about the horses and his father. Maybe not his father, the words will take time, he misses his family.

(OOC: Warning for death from tuberculosis and a Slenderman nightmare.)

spooky_shrink

It's been a while since a certain shrink was seen at that particular chair at the bar. But there he is, with his usual glass of Glenmorangie and... oh, look, he has a tablet now.

So there he is happily zipping through screens and downloading stuff from....somewhere. Hmmm.

Well, at least they had Cut the Rope, whoever they are.

spooky_shrink

The Door opens on a beautiful, tropical beach, and in steps a dead psychiatrist.

"And I'm back!" Malcolm grins.

Judging by the straw hat, incredibly garish Hawaiian shirt, ridiculously over-sized trunks, and the flip-flops, he had a good time. Though judging by all the color clashes, he really could have used his former wife's help in the wardrobe department. Anna probably wouldn't have gone for the all-squid pattern, though.

Malcolm pauses a moment to take in the bar, and then looks puzzled.

"...That was just three days, right?"

Not again!

vance_prime

Shortly after this conversation, Alyx leaves a note with Bar.

( Note for Dr. Malcolm Crowe )

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

The worst part is when he doesn't dream. That's never a good sign. So when Malcolm Crowe wakes up in his room, he does so with a start, and then flails around until his hand slaps the nightstand.

"Bar," he gasps. "Bar! How long's it been?"

A napkin appears. Malcolm grabs it and squints at it in the dim light.

"Dammit! Months?! Not again!"

Wait, what the hell? Why is the floor shaking?

Malcolm springs up from his bed and nearly faceplants on the floor as the sheets wrap round his legs. After a minute of more flailing, he's managed to stumble to his feet and on to the bathroom, where he's halfway through a shower before the floor starts trembling again.

Bracing himself against the tile walls of his shower, he shakes his head. "That's.... so not good."

A few minutes later, he's managed to throw on shirt and pants, and is standing at the bottom of the stairs, eying all the debris.

"Nope. Not good at all."

wheatencrown

Christmas has never been a holiday of Demeter's but it is one for many people she knows. That means that today she enters holding baskets and bags full of treats for those she cares for. All of them are dropped at the Bar and instead of a signature simply have a golden sheaf of wheat in the from section.

( Felix and Louis, Kate and Bill, Ben Grimm, Teja, Urquhart, Carlotta, Gordon and Alyx, Adrian Shephard, Sunshine, Malcolm Crowe )

Once they're dropped, she smiles and disappears out her door once more as there are parties to attend in France.

(OOC: If I have forgotten anyone that Demeter might gift, consider them given a loaf of bread or some desserts.)

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

As far as Malcolm was concerned when he came down the stairs from his room, it's only been a day or two since he last enjoyed a late-evening nightcap at his usual seat at the bar. But it only takes a minute for him to take in all the new faces and realize Milliways must have done it to him again.

Fortunately, no one's grabbed his spot in the meantime. He sits down--as usual, ignoring that pain-in-the-ass Man in Black a few seats down--and orders his usual Glenmorangie.

"Time slip, huh?" he asks Bar. "How long was it this time?"

When he reads the reply on the napkin, he rolls his eyes and smirks. "Greeeat. Not like I had patients here or anything. I hope your Boss knows when He does this, if one of them blows this place up in the meantime, I'm not taking the fall."

evilontheloose

There is a short girl with a cybernetic left forearm at a booth, working on her laptop.

There is also a sign on the table.

GENIUS FOR HIRE

Computers and electronics in general, particle and kinetic weapons, advanced vehicles, cybernetic limb replacements, HE suits, robots and androids, inventions.

Inquires welcome.

[ Tag.licious: Jordan Kennedy ]

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm comes down from upstairs and strolls over to the bar, a little blue book in his hand. It's a slight change of pace for him, but not by much. As someone who used to spend most of his time counseling young people, Malcolm makes an effort to keep up on whatever they might be reading.

In fact, the only thing that's annoying him about it is the fact that it doesn't seem nearly as exotic to him as the author probably intended.

****ing Milliways.

A moment later he's at his usual seat at the bar, a glass of scotch nearby.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

There's a dead psychiatrist at his usual seat at the bar, minding his own business and not thinking at all about his patients.

This probably won't last for long.

But until then, there's Malcolm, drinking his favorite scotch while he ignores that really annoying guy in black at the other end of the bar.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm's at the bar tonight, pondering whether to ask Bar for a book to read or not. In the meantime, he's got his drink, and the room is always good for entertainment value, if nothing else.

The only exception being the Englishman sitting only a couple chairs down. As usual, Malcolm and Wesley are each intent on pretending the other doesn't exist ~~mostly because that amuses their mun~~.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm Crowe is at his usual place at the bar, paging through some poetry by Coleridge as he ponders the effects of various substances on creativity, because that's how a dead psychiatrist passes a late evening in Milliways.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm has been keeping quiet of late, but it's never a good thing for Milliways' most-requested psychiatrist to fall too far off the radar. So he's back to his usual seat at the bar, reading through an incredibly dense monograph on mental health from [choose your Milli-canon].

From the way he's stopping at regular intervals to to s-t-a-r-e at it, the book must be from one of the weirder ones.

(Yeah, I know, 'Get in line', right?)

basic_powers

So Tyler's been avoiding going back home through the door for a few days. It's to be expected really, after all that's been going on back home.

Yesterday he delayed going back by going over every single notebook he had, and editing some parts of the entries to keep...Well. A kid has to have some secrets. So sometime earlier this evening, he dropped off a box of the edited notebooks onto Bar's surface.

"Hey Bar? Could you make sure Malcolm Crowe gets these?" With that the box disappears.

"...and could I get a broom, dustpan, some cleaning cloths an a bucket of warm soapy water?"

Today's delaying tactic?

Tyler is going to head out towards the treefort that he and Enzo built a while ago and see if he can't get things in there cleaned up.

going-native.livejournal.com

[directly after this]

Wanderer stumbled through the door at a run, slowing to a stop only because she'd expected this to be her apartment and, anyway, she was too shaky to keep running.

She was pale, clammy, breathing hard. She took a moment to register her surroundings and then slumped into a booth, curling into the furthest corner of it and pulling her knees up to her chest so she could rest her head on them. She was near to hyperventillating, still, and she knew she needed to calm down before she made the situation worse by passing out or being sick. She shouldn't draw that much attention to herself. Why wasn't she home? This place hadn't appeared in months and months, so long that she'd started to think it a dream. Maybe it was. Maybe it was some sort of emotionally-induced hallucination that, for whatever reason, this body found comforting.

Are you freaking kidding me? Outer space is YOUR comfort zone, not mine.

She recoiled a bit at the intensity of the thought, trying to shut down hard the part of her that was able to listen to that voice. It wasn't as difficult as she imagined, really, because Melanie wasn't interested in having this panic attack any more than she was.

Of course, with Melanie gone, the full force of her attention returned to her own self and she found herself trembling all over in the wake of whatever had made her react so violently only moments before.

[taggable by anyone, but please see here if you've got a pup that might react badly to a body-snatching alien girl!]

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm strolls into the bar, this time coming in from the Back Door and wearing a big backpack. He walks up to Bar and as he settles into his usual seat, he puts the backpack down on the floor beside him with a THUD.

"Thanks, Bar," he grins. "Just what I needed."

Judging from the bushy beard he's sporting, wherever Malcolm's been, he was out there for a while.

guppy_sandhu

[OOM.]

Free Walk-in Clinic
The doctor is in

Guppy is engrossed in a text book (Alien Neonatology: Non-human carbon based life forms), and is jotting down a couple of diagrams on a notepad next to him.

He also has a plate of pink frosted doughnuts with smilie faces iced on them. Naturally, he's not going to eat all of them, but someone hungry might come along.

trigger_man

Jack hasn't been in the bar itself much in the last week or two, but he's down there now, seated at a table with a gun cleaning kit spread out in front of him. If he's going to go back out to his world sometime soon--not that he has a definite date in mind, but sometime in the near future--then he's not going out there without making sure that his pistol is clean and working properly.

At most other times, cleaning his gun would be a calming routine. At the moment, with the way he's scrubbing at the slide with a toothbrush, it might be fairly obvious to anyone besides himself that he's working off some frustration.

It wasn't a good night--or last few nights. That might have something to do with it.

[eta ooc: open until his next appearance, but I need sleep. Will tag in the morning!]

guppy_sandhu

After this, Guppy leaves a note for Malcolm.

( Malcolm Crowe )

scots_wolf

Urquhart is by the fireplace, with books from the upstairs library.

He is sitting on a couch and eating peaches, enjoying the sensual sensation of his teeth breaking the velvety skin, and the juice splashing out, almost as much as the taste itself.

The book he is looking at is a large, heavy coffee table book about oriental palaces and their colourful tiles.

Urquhart has had indications he's been here before, and perfect strangers already know him, but he doesn't let that distract him from the acute enjoyment of peaches and architectural perfection.