milliways_bar | Entries tagged with master of ceremonies

[OOC: For those following along, the Master of Ceremonies has not been in the bar since having said his goodbyes a year ago.

A year ago, he stepped through his door. A year ago, with the help of his Milliways friends, he finally made his escape.

(Warnings: Violence throughout, lots of gore in the first thread.)]

i_am_your_host

Emcee comes down the stairs into the bar lugging two instrument cases. One is large, boxy, and heavy, and contains an accordion. The other is small, about two feet long, and contains a ukulele.

Carrying them to the Bar, he is reluctant to give them up. After all, he had only intended to borrow them, to practice and to reach a decent level of proficiency. But he can't take them with him.

One more time, though. One more time can't hurt.

He sets the accordion case down on the floor and settles onto a stool, laying the ukulele case on the countertop. He removes the little instrument, and after plucking its strings to tune it, begins to strum and sing softly with a small smile just as soft:

"I know you belong
To somebody new
But tonight
You belong to me...

Although we're apart
You are a part of my heart
But tonight
You belong to me..."

(He misses Sinric. He would have provided the sweetest harmony.)

[tinytag: sinthia schmidt, snufkin]

i_am_your_host

Everyone who has come into the bar during the past week or so has received an invitation on a little white card along with whatever they ordered. Some may know who sent it; some, perhaps, even after all this time, may not. Either way, all are welcome. It reads:

Join me, one and all
For a most fabulous and fantastic farewell
New Year's Eve Celebration!

Food - Drinks - Music - Karaoke
Come as you are
Take the stairs or the lift to the 2nd floor
And follow the trail of glitter - you can't miss it!

(All-Night Dance Party begins at Midnight)

Yours always,
The Master of Ceremonies

Won't you join him in ringing in the New Year?

The trail of glitter snakes down the hallway and leads to a pair of black double doors, a WILLKOMMEN - BIENVENUE - WELCOME sign posted on the left hand side. Once you step into the wide, expansive room, you are transported to what seems like an era between eras, a past that has blended with the present.

In the warmly lit interior, classic cabaret tables -- adorned with little lamps with red satin shades -- cluster around a hardwood dance floor, above which several beautiful orbs and mirror balls slowly rotate, casting sparkles of light like snowflakes.

Emcee will be flitting around like the social dragonfly that he is, wearing a black leather bow tie choker, and a white tank top festooned with kisses made out of red sequins. His makeup is, of course, impeccable.

[OOC: Millitimed to December 31. OPEN FOREVER]

adamantiumloner

The front door opens and a pine tree comes barging through. The tree is helped along by Logan; in boots, jeans, and a plaid flannel shirt he looks a right lumberjack.

He's also wearing a Santa hat.

The appearance of Milliways gets a grumble, but after a moment he gives a 'what the hell' shrug and drags his tree over to the counter. Propping the tree up against the wall, Logan takes a seat on an end stool and pulls off the gloves he's wearing.

The hat stays on.

A mug of eggnog appears and Logan accepts. Lifting the mug he takes a sniff, then pauses before drinking to give the countertop a rap with his knuckles.

A moment later a bottle of Southern Comfort appears and Logan puts the eggnog down so that he can doctor it with the whiskey.

"Pourin' light on me, darlin'?" he asks with a smirk.

A plate of sugar cookies appears and Logan salutes Bar with the eggnog before taking a drink.

run_barry

At a table is one Barry Allen with a short stack of books and a small potted plant.

The plant is a red zinnia, and it doesn't look to be doing so good.

The books are on horticulture and gardening.

After an initial speed-read through the entire stack, Barry goes back and starts to page through the first book again, slower this time.

Turning pages, he looks up from the book every now and then and gives the little plant a frown, and then keeps on reading.

He's totally botherable, and open to help from anyone with a green thumb.

skyhigh_seance

Klaus, in a bright pink sparkly crop-top and his favorite leather pants, walks into the bar backwards, shaking pills into his hand.

"Oh, two? Yeah, sure, why not, right?" He laughs, with a wink to someone beyond the door, swallowing the pills down dry. He turns and... hey! Perfect timing.

"Bye boo, don't wait up for me." He calls cheerfully - between the pills and the bar appearing, he won't see Ben for a while. Poor Ben. But there's whiskey calling, and Klaus is keen to answer, so he hop-skips over to the bar for a drink, leaving the door to slowly close in his wake.

He's met with a post-it note.

"Aww, really? I mean, wasn't the once...?"

A second post-it note.

"Fiiiiine, whatever." He huffs, and goes in search of chalk for the specials board.

Well, he goes in search for a bottle of whiskey as a travelling companion first, then the chalk.

Specials!

Flaming Dr Pepper
Bailey's Comet
Anything else I can set on fire

The bartender

Klaus, with his shoes off and whiskey in hand, is ready for all your firebug needs. Or at least all the ones he sees fit to do something about. And maybe some other needs too. Who knows?

(OOM: Your thread may contain some Ben (also known as Benny, Bentacles, or Bennalicious), results may vary)

i_am_your_host

When Emcee comes downstairs and goes to the Bar to order a drink, as one often does, he not only receives his requested glass of red wine, but also a Halloween costume, as one also does this time of year. And not a costume neatly folded to be donned at one's leisure, but poof, put directly and instantly on him.

This time, the Bar has outfitted Emcee all in black. "Oooh," he purrs, running his fingers along the buttons of a long, slim-fitting, swishy coat, and he twirls a bit, making the tails flare out.

The collar is a little tight, so he moves a hand to adjust it--

Oh.

Really. Really?

"Mmm, how absolutely terrifying, darling," he murmurs at the Bar, who provides him with a small mirror.

Yes, that's a priest's collar around his neck. Hilarious.

And then, the Evil Karaoke Machine flickers on. A beat starts to play; synthesizers...synthesize.

Emcee slinks and sashays over to the microphone, coattails swishing about his knees, his shoulders squared. He licks his lips, bats his kohl-dusted eyelashes, and begins to sing in a breathy, smoky voice:

"That's all I wanted
Something special, something sacred
In your eyes
For just one moment
To be bold and naked
At your side
Sometimes I think that you'll never
Understand me
Maybe this time is forever
Say it can be...

That's all you wanted
Something special, someone sacred
In your life
Just for one moment
To be warm and naked
At my side

Sometimes I think that you'll never
Understand me
But something tells me together
We'd be happy
Oh oh

I will be your father figure
Put your tiny hand in mine
I will be your preacher teacher
Anything you have in mind
I will be your father figure
I have had enough of crime
I will be the one who loves you
'Til the end of time..."

It's campy. It's sexy. It's inappropriate. It's entirely Emcee.

i_am_your_host

[OOM: Emcee and Eric re-establish their arrangement. (Still in progress; warnings for sex and vampirism.)]

This evening, Emcee orders far more food than is possible for only one person to consume. In fact, the spread that he sets out on a large table is a veritable buffet.

The main plate is a dish of bite-sized sausages, including bratwurst, knackwurst, weisswurst, and for the brave, blutwurst (a separate dish labeled "Vegetarian" contains an assortment of similarly flavored meat-substitute sausages). Accompanying dishes contain sides of sauerkraut, red cabbage, potato latkes, and pickle spears. There are blocks of cheese, such as Rauchkäse, Butterkäse, and Limburger, and more familiar ones like Swiss, Edam, and cheddar. Among the crackers and slices of rye bread, there are baked pretzels, to be slathered with mustard. In the center of the table is a bucket filled with bottles of German beer, surrounded by empty glass steins if drinking from a mug instead of guzzling from a bottle is more to one's taste.

It's Oktoberfest back home, and Emcee is feeling the vibes, as the modern kids say.

Come join him.

mogget_cat

From atop the bar counter, a regal, white-furred creature surveys its domain, scenting the air, taking in the sights and sounds of the bar room.

onceaviking

{It's been a while, but things have gone down now in Louisiana.
Eric is under the spell of the witch and Bill is the host of a Living Dead Alliance Tolerance do.

Sookie to the rescue!
Warnings: blood, violence, casual disregard of human life, the banishment of Puppy!Eric.
Forgotten where we left off a year and a half ago, look here.}

The door opens and a tall, pale vampire wearing light brown pants and a blood soaked, white grandpa shirt walks through.

There's a brief hesitation as he realizes where he is. Then he runs a hand through his hair and proceeds with the assured walk of of someone who knows who he is and knows what he wants.

Eric Northman and someone to eat respectively.

See?
Easy.

i_am_your_host

While the adult is away, the child will play.

A boy comes into the bar, ten years old or so, though he looks quite younger due to his slight frame and elfin features. He is wearing short wool trousers and a hand-me-down schoolboy's jacket. His boots are battered, but still holding together, and his socks come up to his knees. A floppy, flat cap that he hasn't grown into yet sits on a head of jet black hair.

He's been here before. The memory of this place had faded away, like a distant dream -- perhaps it is still a dream -- but he knows where he is, and he smiles secretly to himself.

When he makes his way to the counter, he is greeted with a plate of cookies, a glass of milk, and a 1910 issue of National Geographic magazine in German.

"Danke, Frau Bar," he says politely, and he takes his treats with him over to the fireplace. After setting everything down on the coffee table, he sits cross-legged on the floor and opens the magazine on his lap. As an afterthought, he pulls the cap off his head. He keeps forgetting to do that when he's indoors.

heatherandsteel

Quentin's taken over a table, he has a selection of tacos and burritos, a bowl of chips and salsa as he's working on a list. Helping Chelsea is going to be challenging because she's not starting where another Fae would be but with a mixture of what her mother thinks is true and her own experience. He's starting with what he learned as a page, then noting down what he learned when he was at a mortal high school and trying to think about what a folklorist would know that's not right.

So far he's filled up about four pages of notes. He's not wearing a disguise so his bronze hair is rumpled with his pointed ears just visible, but he's also in jeans and a t-shirt.

abyssum_invocat

When the door opens and a young woman steps across the threshold, nothing spectacular happens: she doesn’t collapse, there is no epiphany of her having been here before, nothing to show out of the utterly ordinary.

She moves like a wraith, seemingly of no solid presence until she settles her weight, and her eyes open: they’re a serene brown, flecked with bright blue, showing nothing of the chaos behind her skull. She took a deep and faintly startled breath when the belated realization hit her that this place was utterly unrecognizable to her, reaching out mentally like a whisper through unprotected minds, a question rippling with who-what-where-when is this-am I?, blurring into one indescribable feeling.

The only sound is the slow drip of liquid from her fingertips, blood coating her hands so thickly it almost appears black.

[ooc: Sinthia will remember nothing of the bar, and no one in it. she also won't talk a lot, and until someone makes her go wash will be bloody. probably won't be squeaky clean after that, either. be forewarned?]

sunbaked_baker

Sunshine comes into the bar dusted by flour and wreathed in the cacophony of the mid-lunch rush at the coffee house. She can't quite keep herself from smiling as the closing door cuts off the tumult.

Ah.

A moment to herself.

A moment to flop down on the couch with a cold, tall glass of lemonade and enjoy the new issue of Professional Bakers Quarterly that was delivered with the day's mail.

Win.

i_am_your_host

It's a warm summer evening, and Emcee has decided to venture outside, at least as far as the back porch, where he settles on a deck chair and puts his feet up on the railing.

He holds in his lap a ukulele, which he is teaching himself to play. Also on his lap is a book of Queen songs annotated with the appropriate ukulele chords.

At any point one may find him strumming and softly singing along to such classics as I Want to Break Free, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Killer Queen, and more, often altering the rhythms to suit the unique sound of the instrument.

Open to being interrupted. His tender fingertips will need a break.

fry_sandhu

Fry is in one corner of the bar, with a needle and cotton, and a look of intense concentration as his thread refuses to pass through the eye for the fourteenth time.

On the table is a piece of blue cord, a sew on badge, a partially destroyed t-shirt and a ( piece of paper. )

After the fifteenth failed attempt, he glares at it in irritation.

is_the_motion

[oom: Emcee joins Bonnie's family for an Elvis Concert. Gerry can't help falling in love.]

i_am_your_host

Is Milliways weather finally getting hot enough for milkshakes?

Does it really matter?

Because after getting the Bar's call of duty on a napkin, Emcee sets up a boozy milkshakes happy hour for which he had been industriously preparing. With a mixer ready to go, a supply of mixing cups at hand, and all the required ingredients chilling in the refrigerator, he writes the menu on the board.

Boozy Milkshakes Happy Hour!

Devil's Ecstasy
lots of chocolate; whiskey

Peach Gobbler
lots of peach; brandy

Morning Glory
lots of coffee; Guinness & Irish cream

Cunning Linguist
it's very pink; cherry schnapps & rum

Missionary
so vanilla; vodka

Boozy Sundaes

Deep Throat
banana with hazelnut, peanut butter, whiskey caramel, rum syrup

69 Split
above ingredients but with the banana artfully arranged

(all can be made non-boozy)

Emcee is not responsible for explaining these names to children who ask about them.

wayward_sun

It had been such a nice evening.
He'd gotten out of a speeding ticket and Delilah had shown up.

They rarely came back, the ones he did favors. Not till be came to cash them in.

But she had.
And he'd felt all [paternal] - he'd wanted to help her get back on track. With her music. He hated seeing talent like that wasted.

And then the shots had rung out and they'd both been thrown backwards as the large window behind them exploded in a rain of shares.

The door to LUX had led him here and now he headed for the Bar, still angry with bullet holes in his jacket (and shirt) and perfectly unbroken skin.

The blood on his cheek wasn't his either.

i_am_your_host

There is a Master of Ceremonies in the kitchen.

There is usually never a Master of Ceremonies in the kitchen, because, quite frankly, he has no reason to be in there, but this time he does, which is why it's so unusual.

Spread before him on one of the main countertops are several bottles of different liqueurs, a variety of ice cream flavors, a pitcher of milk, and an array of extras like whipped cream, chocolate syrup, sprinkles, etc.

And he is attempting to work the milkshake mixer. He's already splattered himself. Twice. The pad he's using to jot down notes is covered in sticky fingerprints.

Feel free to assist or taste test or lick ice cream off ~~each other~~ the spoons.

skyhigh_seance

Klaus has decided that his nails need doing. Like, desperately. So that's why there's a scrawny-ass junkie dude in a neon wife-beater and leather pants, both shoes off, sitting on one of the tables, directly in the center of what might be Bar's entire supply of polish, along with an array of brushes, pads, acetone... and a mixed drink.

One hopes desperately that he doesn't mix up those last two.

Currently he's trying to decide if he should just do a classic cherry red, or something more fun like this one that changes colors, or just own it with that tangerine orange one? So many choices.

wayward_sun

There's a Devil in the Bar.
More specifically, there's a Devil at the piano.

He's got a drink, that's untouched at the moment because he is playing.
Jazzy improvisations, moving from These Foolish Things to Why Was I Born? , meanderingly.

He seems fully focused on the music, eyes hslf-closed, as his fingers move across the keys.

littledroidthatcould

The decor of the Bar shifts, as it does, only this time, it's not quite a generic cantina. It's a cantina, for sure, but its got a little more of the forest-y look than the usual. The walls look like wood, or maybe durasteel made to look like wood, and the decor as well, with deceptively primitive decorations on the walls besides the usual banners with the emblems of many groups in a certain galaxy far, far away.

There are also a number of bowcasters displayed on the wall--no ammo and bolted on, they are for display only.

Of course, out on the practice range is a wonderful array of bowcasters for trying out, all carefully provided by Bar to be non-lethal.

There are also plenty of options popping up on data pads for people to try out being a Wookiee for the day, if they so choose.

Outside, several race tracks have appeared, focusing primarily on vehicles rather than animals this year. Pod racing, swoop bike racing, and speeder racing are all available, as are some simulators for racing ships. There are a few extra tracks and a few extra falthiers found in the stables, and some other critters, but there's no obvious scoreboards both inside and outside the bar like for the vehicles.

There are other practice weapons and costumes available too--though bowcasters and wookiees are showcased as the centerpieces, with racing the showcased activity.

And there are porgs found here and there. Not a huge swarm, like a year ago--but there are porgs. Lots of porgs.

Food and drinks for the day will likewise be somewhat arboreally themed.

[[ooc: for peter mayhew, of blessed memory. rrrooooawrr.]]

holdingacat

Cecil, looking frazzled, stumbles into the bar. He pauses in the doorway, considering because... yeah. This could work.

Holding the door open with his foot, he rummages around behind him until he finds something to hold the door open (A footstool shaped like a gargoyle... or perhaps it's a footstool-sized gargoyle? One of those.) and bolts back into his apartment.

The gargoyle/footstool combo leers at the room silently.

Cecil re-appears, arms full of clothing, and he awkwardly nudges the gargoyle back into his apartment and makes a beeline for the couch. Now he has much more time to decide what to wear to the ceremony! Win.

i_am_your_host

The last thing Dr. Dylan Reinhart remembers, at least vaguely so, is going to his room to sleep off an oncoming cold.

When he wakes up, he feels worse. Ugh.

Groggy and miserable, he changes out of his pajamas and into the tailored suit that's been laid out. Shirt, tie, sweater vest. None of the patterns or colors match, but oddly enough he makes it work in an elegantly offbeat way. Italian leather oxfords round out the ensemble.

He comes downstairs into the main bar, adjusting his pocket handkerchief (he has a feeling he'll be needing it as the sniffles, sneezing, and coughing persist). After ordering some tea and chicken soup, he tucks a cloth napkin into the collar of his vest, and settles down to eat.

As demure as he is, as engrossed in his meal as he is, and even as ill as he is, he still keeps his wits about him, observing who is in the room and where, the exits and windows (including the really Big Window). He can't exactly recall why he's like this. His memory is rather muddled at the moment. Which is annoying. And it's making him feel more ill than necessary.

[OOC: Have Emcee thinking he's Dylan Reinhart from Instinct.]