milliways_bar | Entries tagged with nikola tesla (sanctuary)

Nikola has been staying in the bar since he arrived a few days ago. There are a number of reasons for this. For one thing, being here always buys him valuable time on his research. For another, being in his own world is nothing more than a painful remind of what he isn't any longer.

Possibly also he's hoping to see some people he'd known here before. Possibly one someone in particular--but that's much more sentimentality than he would admit to.

At any rate, he makes his way to the bar this evening with a faint, self-assured smile. "Šljivovica , please, my dear."

Just because he can't have atlantean, doesn't mean he has to stick to wine.

ps_you_look_hot

The ex-vampire who walks into the bar is not as shocked as he might be, though he is--really rather pleasantly--surprised.

"Well, well," he murmurs, looking around the room with a satisfied smile. "It has been a while, hasn't it?"

There is almost a spring in his step as he makes his way to the bar. "Can I get your best Riesling as a welcome back?"

His smile only grows when the glass appears with a napkin.

Welcome back to Milliways, Nikola.

ps_you_look_hot

[OOM: Plus, you gotta admit, vampires are just plain cool.]

Nikola is looking moderately more cheerful when he comes in today, and when he approaches the bar, he's given a small cupcake frosted in black and a note.

"On my deathday? Really? How rude."

But he's smiling as he says so, and he takes his place behind the bar. He doesn't bother with a specials list, but he does pick up a jigger as he waits for customers, playing at making it stick to each hand in turn.

[ooc: Calling it a night. Slowtimes all around.]

ps_you_look_hot

The ~~vampire~~ man who walks into the bar looks rather...stricken. Like he's just lost something very, very important.

He's meant to be in Helen's lab, working up some sort of power source for his latest invention, but he just...can't.

He slides onto a stool at the bar and says, "Atlantean. The bottle."

What he gets instead is a very expensive pinot noir.

"Fuck."

ps_you_look_hot

[OOM:

"Bram Stoker? Alcoholic, Irish hack. Bats indeed."]

no_more_hiding

Hank sits in a booth with several books written by one Nikola Tesla. Aside from collections of Tesla's notes from his Colorado Experiments, the only other title he continually refers to is Alternate Currents Of High Potential And High Frequency from which Hank seems to be making many notes.

This could mean something but I think you'll have to ask him.

[OOC - Apologies in advance for my poor science.]

Current Mood: curious

mogget_cat

There is a not'cat at the bar, discussing with the Bar the fish-shaped cake that had appeared when he had approached her. It is decorated with a colorful candle in the shape of an eight.

"You do know it's been much longer for me, right?" he asks, leaning his elbows on the counter top. "Three times as long, in fact."

The napkin that appears in reply is accompanied by a party-hat. It is even more desperately bright and colorful than the candle.

"And why Earth-years, anyway? Answer me that."

Or.... the bar could just give him a celebratory plate of sashimi to shut him up.

Surprisingly, it works... for now. Come have a piece of cake.

(ooc: Eight years ago today, a snarky, bitter Bright Shiner found his way into Milliways, and I found myself an entire world of friends. There has been TOO MUCH AWESOME to ennumerate adequately, so let me say this: I can't imagine my life without y'all. You are loved.)

Current Mood: cheerful

ps_you_look_hot

Nikola is feeling rather pleased with himself when he opens the door that leads to the bar today, and when he sees where he is, he tosses back over his shoulder in a (really quite accurate) German accent, "I'll be in my lab all afternoon. Shift my appointments around. I'll see the clients tomorrow."

When he gets to the Bar, he laughs as three cupcakes appear, each with a miniature sparkler and a numeric candle spelling out 156. "Again? Already?" he asks in his usual accent.

mogget_cat

A Tentacles of our Waves marathon is on, today, meaning it's all reruns. It would be disappointing, but flipping to random channels has led Yrael to something better. Or at least more interesting, in his opinion.

He just can't tell whether the man in the beret and the red-haired man in glasses are making a lead balloon, that will actually fly, for any reason other than because they can.

He can respect that, though; it happens to be Yrael's favorite reason for doing anything.

Current Mood: curious

ps_you_look_hot

Nikola has done the Cubefall thing before and quite enjoyed himself. He's tempted to have another go.

At least he is until he sees his last option.

"Oh, now you've put me right off my dinner," he says, making a rather disgusted face.

"Though I suppose I could have a glass of wine..."

He takes it with a smile when it appears and makes his way over to an erector set to see what he can do with it.

ps_you_look_hot

One of the things Nikola has always loved about Milliways is that it gives him the opportunity to get some work done without losing any time back home. This is especially important when he has something he needs to finish before he runs out of excuses to linger in Helen's sanctuary, (For some reason, her staff are always impatient to see him leave. He really can't understand why.) or when he needs to make some...alterations to one of her more valuable keepsakes before anyone realizes it's gone.

On the table in front of him today is a pile of electrical components and tools. He's been spending the last hour or so assembling the device he currently holds in his hand--a glass cylinder that glows when he wraps his fingers around it. He grins when the device lights up, pleased that it's turned out well. (He can't test it at the moment. That would be disastrous. But still, he's pleased.)

The other item on the table is a dusty bottle of '45 Bordeaux. Eventually the cylinder in his hand needs to be in the bottle, but one does not simply pour out a wine of that quality, even if it weren't a gift from Winston Churchill.

He flags down a waitrat for a glass.

"No," he says in response to the squeaking. "Just an empty glass. I'm hardly going to drink this straight from the bottle, now am I?"

Someone want to steal his wine? (Or at least attempt to persuade him to share?)

sheldon_lee_cooper

It's been a big day. A day that started with him realizing he may have to share a Nobel Prize with Leonard's booty call, and ended with the decision to switch Tuesday night's regular restaurant. The barbeque burger at the Cheesecake Factory was just that good. The Big Boy is out.

Sheldon's yawning as he comes through the door, so his hand is already clamped over his mouth. It stays there. In the second that follows, his gaze sweeps the breadth of the room. It takes in the bar, tables, chairs, back door, various...people, oh Heavens, who are these people!?

...

This is not the lobby of his building. This is definitely not the lobby of...this isn't anywhere he's familiar with. His brain races through possible explanations, trying to find which paradigm this new vista falls into. He hasn't hit his head. He doesn't feel dizzy, or nauseated. He is not asleep. He doubts Penny spiked his burger with anything, though he's not ruling that out. But...all right, maybe he hit his head and hasn't realised? Short term amnesia isn't uncommon, but there's no pain....wait! Maybe he fell into the Matrix.

And then he sees the Observation Window.

His hand drops from his mouth. He can't...no, that's it. He can't.

Run towards it? Run away from the weird people and...things, sitting over there? Stand here until it all goes away? But...ohhhh, the universe is out there, and it's huge, and scary and beautiful and...he becomes aware that he's speaking, muttering something over and over under his breath.

"...I'm not crazy, my mother had me tested, I'm not crazy, my mother had me tested, I'm not crazymymotherhadmetestedohgoodGod...."

And underneath that, on automatic, his eyes are scouring the stars. It's the most awe inspiring thing he's ever seen. And will continue to be, unless he passes out.

[OOC: If anyone's inclined to tag, please read this first! Particularly if your pup gets offended easily, or is from a sci-fi/fantasy canon. Thank you!

You are all amazing! Thank you for making Sheldon welcome (sorry if he's been rude). I have to leave for a while, but I'll pick up all slows as soon as I can. *love to all*]

mogget_cat

Bars are loud places; it goes with the territory. But sometimes, there is order hidden in the chaos, music hidden in the noise. Take tonight, for example. If one were to listen closely, one might hear the slow, measured steps of time, shifting one season to the next, soft and gentle as the first kiss of the sun after winter has run its course. The albino young man at the piano coaxes these sweet sounds from the ivory keys, as though by music alone he might gently urge the world, its melody still sleepy and slow, into wakefulness.

Eventually, the tempo rises - the sun has returned with the onset of spring and the world must answer. Must awaken, and grow. And wake it does, bursting forth with cascading flowers of many colors like so many rushing streams, free of winter's icy grip and swollen with melted snow, sap rising in the trees, sprouting new leaves the color of the pianist's laughing eyes.

Someone may have had a nap in the spring sunshine today, since it's finally warm enough to be decent for outdoor napping. He must have felt the need to compose about it.

Silly cat.

Current Mood: creative and well-rested

claudiometer

There's a Tesla coil on the target range.
--No, no, don't panic, it's not there in the same mysterious manner the unexploded nuke was. It's also smallish as Tesla coils go, but that's partly because Claudia didn't want to overtax Bar (she just got back in business, after all) and partly because she had to haul the thing out to the target range herself.
Still, smallish as it is, it should work fine for what she needs - and what she needs is a proof of concept.
She turns the coil on and sets the Tesla she's been working on to a lower setting - not one they use in the field a lot, but one that gets two or three shots off in normal circumstances. Once the coil's booted up, she fires off the shots as quickly as she can, given that Teslas have a hell of a kick to them.

...So yeah, that's a fair bit of lightning goin' on there.

ps_you_look_hot

When Nikola enters the bar this evening, his usually immaculate appearance is somewhat marred by the blood splattered on his clothes (and his face and his hands and his--gasp--hair).

He doesn't appear to be injured at all, though. And his expression is smugly self-satisfied--not that this is anything unusual. He makes his way up to the bar and has a seat as though there is not at all odd about going to a bar covered in blood.

"Could I have a glass of Atlantean and a handkerchief, please, dear?"

golden_lyre

Posner is curled up by the fire reading (for fun!) a book of Thomas Hardy poems. He has a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits and looks very cozy indeed.

***

In a corner a ways away from him, Orpheus is strumming his guitar, carefully picking out a wintery tune, lamenting the shortened days, the frosty nights. It's a bit colder in that area of the bar than it usually is.

***

At the bar itself, Nikola is sitting, contemplating what appears to be a vial of blood. He looks more determined than melancholy, though there's a bit of that in his expression as well.

***

Near the back door, Alcide stands. It's throwing him off, the way the date here is different than it is back home. He knows it shouldn't be anywhere near the full moon, but he can practically feel it just outside the door.

It's not that he needs to run; it's more that he wants to, intensely curious about what the woods out there are really like.

[ooc: Multi-pup post! Tag anybody, just specify, please. Open forever.]

ps_you_look_hot

You know, one of these decades, Nikola is going to learn how to say no to Helen. He really is.

Not this decade, though.

First it was the anti-virus. He wasted months on that. (And the fuzzy butler still won't take it. Hairy, little brat.)

And now it's this ridiculously impossible weapon. There is simply no way to make the weapon she wants. Not that he's told her this. He has that much tact at least.

Even the prospect of working on it in Milliways can't change the fact that what she wants done cannot be done. He's giving it a shot though.

So there's a sparky vampire taking over one of the larger tables with a smattering of parts and a boxy sort of something that may be a weapon of some sort.

He may be cursing in Serbian under his breath, and he will forever deny wishing that the werewolf were here to ~~offer assistance~~ be a guinea pig.

[ooc: Open 'til it scrolls. He probably won't try to use the weapon on you. Mostly because it wouldn't work.]

knowmymethods

There is a man in Milliways tonight that looks...a little tired. He's occupying a chair too far from the fireplace to be affected by it, hand resting over his eyes and pressing gently on his temples. His waistcoat is unbuttoned, as are the top few buttons of his shirt, and he looks like he has a headache, though probably less actually painful and more annoying.

He ends up with his curled fingers resting against his mouth, staring past the arm of his chair into space as he thinks.

mogget_cat

Over the ebb and flow of conversations, the endless background static of the bar room, there is the soft sound of a violin being played. Its tone is is sweet, nearly to the point of pain: that ancient, deep yearning for something forever out of reach. The slow, winding half-tune insinuates itself among the sounds of the bar, as subtle and inexorable as the flow of time, each twist and trill like the minute, nigh-unnoticed changes of light as bright daylight slowly fades towards dusk.

Yrael's skill is great; that much is obvious, and the the violin is both well-made and well-kept. But it is not mere skill that nestles the sweet melody amongst the disturbing thoughts kept pushed to the back of the mind, the thoughts that remind you that every morning must have its night, that every life must eventually end. That every brightest day will have an equally dark night.

No, not mere skill.

If you've a mind to come and listen, please do. He might even sing to you, if you are very lucky, or perhaps if you are very unlucky.

Current Mood: pleased

mogget_cat

Yrael sighs when he sees the napkin appear instead of the plate of fresh fish he'd ordered.

"I see the price of a meal has gone up considerably."

An answering napkin appears.

"No need to get snippy," he replies, wry, resting a hand on the bar top. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it. Go get some rest."

Soon, he has the Specials Board up, declaring in lime-green chalk:

Happy Hour!
All the following are 1/2 price:
Cat and Fiddle
Fishing for the Sun
Fishbone
Green Milkshake
Milky Way
25% off all wine

So what if his mind is still on the food he's been denied? >_>

"Happy Hour, everyone!" he calls, stretching. "Choose your poison."

Current Mood: hungry

mogget_cat

"Really?"

As there so often is, there's an albino young man at the bar, tonight. He's laughing, amused by the... cake that has appeared on the counter. It has a candle on it, a wax seven, burning sedately.

"A crab cake with salmon mousse for icing? Truly?"

But his incredulity can't last long - not with that much tastiness there for the taking.

"You're either the best or the worst, Bar," he says, leaning down to place a light kiss on the polished surface, a peck to the cheek of a friend. When an answering napkin appears, he laughs again. "Yes, you're probably right. Both."

(ooc: Seven years ago, a not'cat found his way into the bar, and an online community full of wonderful people found its way into my heart. It's been a wonderful seven years. I honestly cannot imagine what my life would be like without all of you. Though the words are flimsy and not nearly enough: thank you, for everything.)

Current Mood: delighted

ps_you_look_hot

When Nikola takes a seat at the bar today, before he even has a chance to order, a small, chocolate cake pops up on the counter. It's decorated with lightning bolts and a blue 153.

"Wasn't I 153 the last time you did this?"

The only response is a glass of Atlantean.

"Yes, all right. No questions about time here."

knowmymethods

The man who comes through the door today is, unfortunately, not watching where he is going. There are a good many things anyone watching could tell about him in the space between when his fingers curl around the edge of the door to push it out of his way, and when his shoe hits the floor and he stops, looking up sharply. His dress is a giveaway, putting him somewhere around eighteen eighty-six, and his entire demeanor agrees with that.

But if you plan to observe him, you'd best do it quickly before he turns the tables.

mogget_cat

There seem to be napkins piling up on the bar in front of Yrael, who argues without the least bit of self-consciousness for the seemingly one-sided discussion.

"... no, I will not wear an sombrero." Another napkin.

"Yes, I know it's a celebration, but I have my own hat." And another.

"But I like my fedora." And another.

"Fedoras are cool." This note takes two napkins.

"They just are. Listen, if I get other people to wear them, will you be satisfied?" Simple, one-word napkin.

"Thank you."

---

Cinco de Mayo 1/2 Off Specials!
Blood Orange Margarita
Baileys Escobar
Chocolate Tequila Dream
Blanco Neat
Billionaire's Margarita
Margaritas of many flavors
Wear a sombrero and get your drink 75% off!

Yrael has a stack of various sombreros to the side, waiting for willing victi-um... participants.

"Happy Cinco de Mayo, everyone!" Yrael says once the Specials Board is up. "I've been told this is one of those Earth holidays that has a number of different reasons behind it, so why not?"

One may ask, since when have the people at the End of the Universe needed a reason to drink and celebrate? The answer is that they don't need one, but really watch out for the days when they have one. :D

(ooc: It's happy hour! Go wild! Do the Tag-In Twist or the Thread-Hop Hop, or even the Foxtrot. :D Open forever.)

Current Mood: cheerful

mogget_cat

If you were looking for the upstairs library's copy of that big guide to modes of inter-galactic travel, we're sorry. Yrael has it, and apparently won't be done with it for a while.

He's the one over there on the couch, stretched out on his back with his arm resting against the back cushions, holding the book up above his head as he reads. He also has a small notepad at his side, full of notes, questions, and things to look up later. His knowledge of physics and chemistry is full of the holes that result from coming from a place where they don't fully apply.

Though he's a fast learner, our not'cat, science will likely never be something he fully applies himself to. It's hard, conforming to laws of gravity and relativity and whatnot, when you don't technically have to. The temptation to ignore them is always there in the background.