milliways_bar | Entries tagged with plourr estillo

Wes makes it all the way to the Bar before he realises this is not, in fact, the tapcaf frequented by his fellow Rogues.

It's been a while since he was in Milliways, but he's thrilled. He beams up at the rafters, then sideways at the Observation Window, and finally down at Bar.

"Whiskey. All of-- okay, no, 'Nyri would kill me if I died of liver failure. Just one bottle of whiskey. Oh, but--!"

He pauses for a moment, then pats Bar and clambers over her, using his stool to help (he ain't seventeen anymore). He's still got a bit of reserve cash built up from his days as bartender here, and he isn't exactly poor back home, either. "Never mind. You have a nap. Tonight's on me."

ALL DRINKS HALF PRICE

(WHISKEY FREE)

"Hey," Wes calls to the bar in general, "come welcome my son to the galaxy."

just-a-soldier.livejournal.com

Seemed to be more than one person at the bar with a gun today. However, Aeryn seemed to be having a little more trouble with hers. Every so often tiny bolts of golden light would shoot from the tip of it, illuminating her worn face.

There were accompanying curse words in a language only a few other would understand.

She was trying not to think about the past, or a certain human or anything at all. The gun was a welcome distraction, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

[OOC: Open for slowtime and regular-time on and off all day, because...well, there's something I'd give anything not to think about too!]

Current Mood: stressed

fighting_mad

[OOM: Aeryn meets the Estillo girls. Millitimed to June 2008. Whoops.]

bprd_agent_red

When Red walks in tonight he's not alone. He's escorting someone in a suit, the guy hanging on Red with an arm around Red's shoulders, and Red has him by the waist.

It could be they're old buddies.

Or, it could be that the guy is made out of stuffed clothing, with a yellow balloon with a face drawn on by Sharpie for a head.

Red wasn't really meaning to come into Milliways with his stuffed friend, but since he is here he sets his pal down in a chair and pulls out a seat for himself.

He orders them both a beer, and somewhere Agent Myers is wondering where the hell his clothes are.

[ooc: And sorry folks, but I must be off for sleeps. Slowtime is love and I will tag back as I can, promise. Post is open until it scrolls, g'nite!]

try_corsets

Elizabeth doesn't know what to expect from her first baby shower and is, in fact, rather apprehensive when she arrives in the bar this evening. Not that she would let reticence keep her away however, and once the door is shut and she's had a chance to look around she is too busy taking in the decorations to concern herself with how strange the idea still seems.

Mike has outdone himself. He's gone and turned what was once merely a watering hole at the end of the universe into an intergalactic tiki bar. Each of the free standing tables has been decorated as its own private island by way of blue table clothes and cray paper palm trees. Some even have palm-sized plastic fish hanging from the hem like fringe. Booths are done up like various mainland ports of call with salt and pepper shakers in the shapes of ships and barges. And as if there wasn't enough in the way of horizontal surfaces to decorate, Mike brought in two full length tables to serve as anchors for the buffet and gift station. After all, what's a baby shower if not an opportunity to wheedle presents from those nearest and dearest to your heart. Just... ignore any passing resemblance these tables have to The Flying Dutchman and The Black Pearl. Along the floor are lines marking distances in latitude and longitude, with large red Xs denoting the various important features of decoration.

Though... strangely absent from this Pirate Ninja themed baby shower are... well, the ninjas. One might have to look close indeed to find them, but there are inch tall ninjas hiding in every nook, cranny, and shadow of the decorations. Just waiting for any opportunity to flip out of a palm tree, streamer, or egg salad sandwich and steal your life.

Glancing down a the large 'X' upon which she's currently standing, Elizabeth stiffens when someone -- a brave someone, she presumes -- removes her hat and slaps another on her head. It feels vaguely... conical.

"Arrrrrr. Permission to come aboard?" says Mike in one ear. Then, moving to her other side, "Permission granted!" With that, he prods her toward a very proud Bar, whose finish fairly beams with it (though please don't go asking her for drinks during her party).

[OOC: Welcome to the first ever Milliways Baby Shower/Happy Hour! Come one, come all, come in pirate or ninja costume... yeah, the invite on the noticeboard probably put that out there as an agreeable option. We are running this as a traditional party post, so there will be several comment sub-threads ASAP: Introductions/Reactions/Arrivals, Drinks & Food, EVIL KARAOKE MACHINE, Presents (to be evenly distributed among all expectant parents, if not expressly labeled for certain people), and dancing... to the evil karaoke machine? Who knows! Go crazy. :D

Pauses likely on our ends for commuting and food, but... thread hop away and party on!]

puckishly.livejournal.com

The Good People, as a rule, do not have the saying "Never let evil ruin your party."

But Puck personally finds it a most worthy and excellent motto.

Therefore today, out on the beach, there is what looks suspiciously like a birthday party for two human toddlers and a squid.

Head on out! (But you better hurry, or Puck will eat all the cake.)

fighting_mad

"No," a loud voice is saying through the open door.

"No, no--" Louder, and then Plourr Estillo is standing in the door, her back to the bar as she shouts at someone down the palace corridor. "Do you need me to say it in Huttese? Nobata! Noah! No! Cha scrunnie do pat, sleemo!"

The last sentence -- delivered effortlessly in the guttural, ugly language -- definitely, definitely does not mean 'no.' A clue: the sharp, rude hand gesture that accompanies it.

"Laserbrain," Plourr mutters ferociously, turning around -- and finding herself staring at Milliways.

Not only is it Milliways, but it's Milliways looking weird, even for Milliways.

"What, I leave a couple months and they redecorate?" she says, unimpressed, her hand on her hip.

She's wearing an eye-searingly orange flightsuit, unzipped to the waist with the sleeves loosely knotted around her hips, and a tank top that may have once started its life as white, but is now thoroughly covered in engine grease, dirt, and a number of unidentifiable stains. Her arms are bare (want tickets to the gun show? 'cause she's got 'em) and her red hair is loosely pulled back; plenty has escaped the ponytail to fly in her face.

Stomping across the bar and settling onto a stool at the Bar, Plourr snorts at the vidscreen that rises. "Just give me a lum," she says.

[Feel free to catch her at the door or at the bar!]

maxwellsdemon02

Duo sits at the bar. He has a mostly empty beer in one hand, and a half thoughtful, half zoned-out expression on his face.

He might be staring at you. Sorry.

[OOC: Er, you might want to ping before tagging. You'll see why in a second.]

takiena_called

Henry's told Finn enough about Christmas that some of it's finally seeped in.

So Finn takes the stairs two at a time, and goes to talk to the bar about his gifts. (He asks her to give a mug of hot cocoa to Lethe, two of his drawings of the mountains to Rial and Plourr, a "...thing for babies" [it ends up being a small stuffed elephant] for their daughter, and grabs a plate of hot cookies for Henry.)

He then sits and writes a note to the recipients of his gifts (along with Kim, Meg, Paul, and Dan Evans). He stares at the blank paper for a long time, writes Have a good krystmas in a scrawling hand, stares at the paper for several more minutes, bites the pen, and signs it Finn.

Setting the note down, he grabs the cookie plate and a bottle of milk and jogs back upstairs.

[Small tags of winter cheer: Dan Evans, Meg Ford]

fighting_mad

[OOC: On Eiattu, the empress and emperor disagree.

Later, there is slightly less disagreement.

Millitimed to June. Warning for mention of sexual assault and torture in first thread.]

dr_temperance

Brennan is putting pieces together.

Not bones, this evening. Or facts of a case. She’s restricted from working on open cases for the time being. Her father’s trial is officially beginning and, as Booth, Angela and the others are witnesses for the prosecution, they are officially not allowed to work together for the duration. Even casual socializing is being frowned upon.

Brennan had anticipated the social discomfort of being on the opposite side of a trial from her friends and colleagues. What she had not anticipated was the feeling of isolation. Or the boredom.

There is plenty of work she could be doing on her own; bones from Limbo, writing and reviewing articles, grading papers, drafting chapter eleven of the new novel. But her usually well-developed ability to compartmentalize and focus on work also seems to have been adversely affected.

So instead Brennan is studying the pieces of a large jigsaw puzzle, laid out on the table in front of her. She’s already gotten the edges together, and patches of Van Gogh’s Starry Night are floating in the center. There’s a lot left to put together, though.

She wouldn’t mind making the project a collaborative effort.

rebel-falcon.livejournal.com

Yesterday was...

...well there really isn't a word for what it was, and Han's a little too drunk to care about thinking one up, either. He's down at the end of the bar with a bottle of something that smells like paint thinner and probably tastes like it too, and a somewhat pissed off look on his face.

At least he's still able to pour the alcohol into the glass and hasn't resorted to drinking straight from the bottle. Yet. He'll get there sooner or later if he has any say in it.

[tags: Ben Wade, Demeter, The Russian Astronaut]

blackholesandrevelations

[OOM: time, time, time / make time, give time, take time out / win time, cost time, the time of your life / spend time, sell time, the good times and the bad / kill time, zero time, all the time in the world / time watch, time travel, time to begin / time table, time square, can i fit you in? / time frame, time to go, time that you grew up / but tell me...how do you feel?

John Crichton, astronaut, stumbled in through the door, managing to catch himself on the edge of a table. He barely registers Milliways before he's whirling around to go back out the door...

...instead he hit a wall. "Shit! Frelling don't do this to me!"

Ah yes, the dulcet tones of Mr. Crichton's cursing! How the Bar must have missed that.

He placed a palm against the wood, sighing. She was out there, Aeryn was out there, and he was dead and all of this stuff was happening without him and he didn't have time for this.

(He has all the time in the world, here).

John leaned against the wall and sighed. Damn.

[OPEN FOREVER OMG, TAAAG MEEEE. OPEN TIL THE 28TH. YES. THAT LONG]

takiena_called

Finn's sitting at a table (pick a table, any table) with his sketchbook laying forgotten to the side, sleeves of his collared shirt still rolled up from working outside. Why, you would ask, is his ever-present sketchbook forgotten?

Well, that'd probably be why he's leaning forward (occasionally readjusting his sword as it catches in the chair legs) and biting his lip, too. Jenga is harder to play by yourself than it looks.

Feel free to pitch in--he has a sheet of instructions next to him.

[tinytag: Anastasia Krupnik]

mistressmaryquitecontrary

It's been a long time, for Mary, since she was in Milliways.

As always, the first place she is going to pass through is the greenhouse, which is just as she prefers it. She wants to see all her friends (she had missed them more than she thought she would; she has not had a great deal of experience with missing people in the past) but her plants rely on her for care more than they do. Her face is bright as she steps through the door from Yorkshire -

And a very few minutes later, she is storming into the bar looking absolutely furious.

"It was only three months!" she shouts, to the room at large. "You could not keep it well and clean and - and uninfested - for so long as that?"

Anyone who has been missing Mary might, at the moment, be wondering why.

undignified

It's summer, or at least it ought to be. Only, you see, Coruscant doesn't really get summer. Coruscant doesn't get much of anything when it comes to weather, and sometimes that's okay (because who really wants a temperamental planet all the time?) and sometimes it's less okay.

Today, Wes wants some weather.

You'll find him near the warmer side of the lake, where he's drinking a ridiculously colourful cocktail (it's got a little pink umbrella) and watching anyone there is to watch.

[ooc; given the distinct lack of posts from me ever, consider this taggable as long as you'd like it to be. ♥]

runmakitarun.livejournal.com

[OOM: History will one day remember it as the last major offensive of the war, but for those who live through it there is only one thing to remember: death. So much death.]

The Makita who trudges into the bar today is almost unrecognizable as the girl who left only a few days ago. Her clothes and face are still spattered with the blood and grime of days of fighting in the streets, but that isn't uncommon for her.

No, the difference is that this Makita is hollow-eyed, almost empty. Her steps are slow and heavy, her eyes are blank, and she doesn't even appear to be aware that she's back in Milliways at all. A close look at her face will reveal the twin streaks of oddly clean skin running down her cheeks; the path the tears have scoured out.

She's not crying now. She has no tears left.

Makita has been many things in her life, but broken has never been one of them. Until now.

[This post open for days and days as it's sort of important to Makita, and likely to go slowtime since I'm still traveling. But don't let that deter you from tagging.]

fighting_mad

[OOM: On Eiattu, it's a quiet night in the Estillo-Pernon household. Sort of. Warning for strategically-placed fade to black.]

sleazeoverstyle

"Yeah, that's what I said about your mom last week. And everyone else agreed."

Kiss my ass, Tseng.

It isn't like the office girls don't usually know when he's about to walk in the door anyway; he might as well announce it in a big way like he always does. Despite the fact they're all a bunch of horses, he sweet-talks them anyhow: it makes it easier on days like this when he needs the chopper in a hurry and he doesn't friggin' feel like doing the paperwork for it: they'll get it going for him after the promise of a drink (yeah, after a couple drinks it won't matter what the girl on his arm looks like) after he gets back from the trip up to the Northern Crater. Shouldn't take too long and he's not the one going in: he's just piloting.

And then after he gets them back safely, both Tseng and Elena can kiss his ass -- one at a time -- and buy him a beer one at a time.

He likes to make an entrance and he doesn't mind doing it with a splash because face it, who's not going to notice a head of orange hair and a stubborn refusal to neaten the fuck up and tuck in his shirt and follow protocol? Nah, chicks love that rebellious shit; he turns ready to smile at whichever dog's manning the desk but...

How you doin'. This... ain't the Midgar office of the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company.

Uh... partner? Hello, it's a bar. That makes it all right: he takes a step in and lets the door shut behind him.

"HEY. Who does a guy have to fuck to get a drink around here?"

It's gotta be Midgar, right? He hasn't even been drinking yet, but maybe he just got the passing out bit out of the way early, 'cause there's a familiar face tending bar.

"HEY. What place is this, and how come I didn't know about it before? I'm supposed to be on intimate terms with every inch of bar space in this town."

[New Kids on the Block tags: demyx, lucrecia crescent]

piperaceae.livejournal.com

Ten days go by awfully fast.

Especially if most of those ten days involve repeatedly telling a large number of people that, no, they cannot get an interview at this time, no, they cannot tour the complex, and no, she is not at liberty to disclose any more information at this time. While the day was actually happening, it would drag on and on and on ad nauseum, but once it was all over, the fact that there was hardly anything to remember made it seem as though the time had hardly been registered before it was gone.

Well aware of what's happening on the opposite side of the room* (she recalls Tony mentioning something about it earlier that day), Pepper has chosen to avoid the strains of Black Sabbath in favor of a quiet booth -- but only relatively; she can still hear the metal --, a glass of water, and a container of pasta with jalapeño sausage meat sauce she'd made for herself. She's working away at her dinner at a rather slow pace, as she's also occupied by a large piece of paper, on which she's written the general outline of her employer's schedule for the next week.

There are still things she needs to get rid of, so now it's a matter of choosing the least important items and eliminating them.

In addition, there's always the problem of working around Tony's other schedule.

It's only by reminding herself that she did this last week that Pepper keeps working at it.

Otherwise, the pasta would probably take prominence (it's very good).

[ petit tag: virginia "pepper" potts

* spoilers for Iron Man

ooc note: mun is off to sleep. tags open until the entry scrolls off the front page, slowtimes will be picked up. thanks for tagging! ]

rogue-wraith.livejournal.com

Some days it is good to be the (almost) boss. Imp butt gets kicked, a few more planets are freed, people actually shut up and listen when you talk - good times.

Some days it is horrible to be the (almost) boss. Pilots die, missions get scrapped, and someone's glued your helmet blast shield down.

Some days...

Some days all he wants is a re-take.

Like today.

Sadly, the universe doesn't give re-takes.

That's why there's a Corellian running full-tilt into the bar, yelling at the top of his lung a strange mix of something that sounds like English and something that really doesn't, being chased by three determined targeting drone droids. Figures he should have taken his blaster to the gym.

river_meimei

[OOM: On Santo, River gives Plourr a tour of Serenity.

And, on an afternoon that may or may not be the same day, River and Stitch head to the beach.]

badinlatin

It's early, for Mal -- Day two on Santo, but even with that Mal's still wanting Frosted Flakes.

Earth-that-Was is a bad influence.

He gets his cereal and milk, and a surprise: strawberries, sectioned and arranged on top of his cereal bowl in the shape of a 3.

"Hunh."

[ooc: Open all day, but am at work. /standard advisory]

river_meimei

River is perched high on the back of a booth, her back against the wall and her legs tucked up.

She's thinking, to judge by her sober face, and the way her gaze focuses most often on the middle distance. (Presumably on the middle distance, anyway; you never can quite tell, with River.)

hero_farmboy

Clark hasn't left the bar since he returned from Greece, spending the night in his room upstairs. It's not that he hasn't wanted to go home, but he needed a break, at least for a day. There are a few hours left before he's decided to go back, so when he comes down to the main bar this afternoon, the first thing he does is drop off a simple note, requesting it be given to Eirene's friends and family, such as they are.

( It reads: )

That done, he grabs a cup of coffee and takes a seat near the fire.