milliways_bar | Entries tagged with puck

Duo comes into Milliways with a briefcase, backpack, and an over-stuffed duffel bag. He drags all of it up to the bar, shucks his long black coat, and then spots the note.

"Really?" he says. "I'm on paid leave that only just managed not to be suspension, and you're already trying to recruit me?" He reads the reply. "Well, if you say so."

He dumps his stuff behind the bar and washes his hands before chalking up a few specials.

SPECIALS
Mulled Cider
Hot Chocolate (alcoholic or non)
Pomegranate and Cranberry Punch

He doesn't notice the small letters that curl into shape under his own square handwriting:
⊕ Drinks half-off for Team Light ⊕

[OOC: This post is serving as a reunion and party post for all of those who fought against the Dark and Blodwen Rowlands way back when. Though feel free to just drop in for a drink!]

puckishly

In that classic joke setup known the multiverse over, a claustrophobic fairy walks into a bar.

The reasons behind his claustrophobia may have something to do with his attire, which includes in no particular order shoes, cufflinks, a shirt with far more buttons than is really necessary, and a waistcoat.

Following him is a far less claustrophobic but just as buttoned-up assassin.

If his face bent that way, it's possible he would currently look apologetic. Then again, he might just look entertained. It's about even odds there.

The fairy makes for a couch, where he begs a tankard of something alcoholic of one of the rats and proceeds to slouch as hard as possible, unbuttoning things as he goes.*

*No Milliways rules were broken ~~yet~~ in the making of this entrance post.

[ooc: As the saying goes: two pups two muns! Tag either or both by or on a couch.]

nita_callahan

Okay, okay, the start of the Christmas shopping season is a few days away yet, but there's no reason Nita can't start thinking about gifts now.

She has a catalog from the Crossings, a notebook, and -- most importantly -- a glass of white wine for fortification. Her sleeves are rolled up, exposing the pale scars on her arms, and her chin is on her hand as she tries to decide between gadgets for Dairine.

oneman_onevote

[OOC: Out on the Disc, Puck and Havelock face a Terrifying Trial with Great Fortitude.

Also, there is cake!]

puckishly

If you are Puck, and are under a mild curse that means you cannot resort to many of your typical diversions, and your other typical diversion is off somewhere sharpening knives, and you don't want to drink heavily just yet, the lengthening autumn evenings begin to grow somewhat troubling.

Puck is, therefore, perched on a table, keeping a keen eye out for any hint of shenanigans.

It's Milliways, so they can't ever be too far away.

Can they?

[ooc: open! questions/comments to artistformerlyknownas at gmail.]

puckishly

Slightly outside the House of Arch, Puck and Havelock calmly discuss the wisdom of faking a pregnancy.

Or something.

Your guess is basically as good as ours.

young_tmriddle

In the House of Arch, old friends reunite after life got in the way for awhile.

my_brothers_humor

Bergelmir is positively gleeful when he receives the napkin asking him to tend bar this evening.

“For you, sweeting, anything. I will tend to your every need.”

He peruses the stores a few moments before scribbling out a quick list of specials

Freya’s Gold

Vikingfjord vodka

Mead of Suttungr

He should probably leave a note of warning next to the last one, but he decides to let the buyer beware.

[ooc: Warning! Drinking the Mead of Suttungr may (and probably will) lead to breaking out in poetry. ~~Open until I crash.~~ And I'm crashing. Slowtimes all around!]

awesome_lilly

Lilly is totally over science. (For the moment, at least.)

She's ensconced in a corner table, nursing a drink that has no experimental qualities of any kind.

If only the same could be said of the waitrat who was supposedly bringing her dinner.

[ooc: plotlocked while I'm still wrapping science, ping first please!]

puckishly

Robin Goodfellow is OFFICIALLY THE GREATEST.

... At ignoring relationship advice.

Nevertheless, and despite a persistent continuation of this dreadful curse, Puck is behind the bar and looking dreadfully cheerful about it.

In large, barely-legible spider-scrawl, he has posted the traditional sign:

THE EVEN'S SPECIALS

DRINKS

After a moment's consideration, he also pens a letter for Andrew, which sits by the specials board awaiting the end of his shift.

( To Master Andrew Wells )

[ooc: open forever! and ever and ever or until i say otherwise. as alluded, puck is under a slight curse and can't currently change his shape.

hi!]

puckishly

[oom:

In desperation, Puck turns to Lilly for advice.

If by advice we mean booze.

(But he may also get some advice.)]

oneman_onevote

In deference to the Summer heat, Havelock Vetinari has removed his coat.* Just because he and Puck are on a seemingly-endless tour of the countries surrounding Ankh-Morpork is no reason to get out of practise, after all.

Don’t get between him and the targets, but otherwise, do stop by.

(Assassin.

Lakeside.

Knife-throwing.)

* Leaving just the waistcoat, cravat, shirt, undershirt, several hundred buttons and various mysterious devices and harnesses for attaching instruments of death to his person between him and the sunshine. Whoever said he didn’t know when to relax?

[OOC: Slowtime for sleep! Back tomorrow, guys. <3!]

howling_laugh

Coyote is sitting at a table, reading the Phoenix New Times.

Buried somewhere in in the back pages is an update on the massive dust storm that swept through Phoenix and Southeastern Arizona some time ago.

Some of those dwelling in the desert to the East have apparently reported the lingering scent of skunk, after the storm passed.

With one elbow on the table, and her chin in her hand, Coyote is staring at said article with raised eyebrows.

puckishly

It may do Puck good to one day hear the old saying you break it, you bought it.

As things sit, ever since breaking that miserable statue he has been unable to change his shape at all, in any way, to any thing. Waiting has done no good, nor standing under the shower's rain of hot water until the ceramic dust had well run off.

(He plunged into the lake, too, the warm Caribbean inlet-- but the saltwater failed to cure his ailment.)

Puck is back in the bar now, damp and somewhat agitated. If only the rats had not cleared away the fragments, or if Master Wells had not run off in such an inexcusable way, perhaps he could learn aught of what has befallen him.

He feels as if someone has stuffed him into an itchy, high-necked shirt-- something Havelock's people would wear-- and is refusing to let him out.

ooc: Puck has gotten himself slightly cursed and is available for tags! This time I girl scout promise not to drop threads! <333]

stilljustandrew

It's been a while since Andrew brought his work to the bar. Right now he's only doing it because he's missed lunch in the course of today's job, and in the aftermath of said job, it looks entirely likely that he'll miss dinner -- but at the same time, he's really curious about this one piece, and he's not done trying to figure it out.

So: one geekboy / Watcher / troubleshooter of the weird, seated at a table with a cheeseburger, a ginger ale, and a basket of fried paradoxes. Studying a six-inch-high sculpture made of either roughened stone or hardened clay, in a sinuous shape that doesn't look immediately representative of anything, but suggests something disquietingly aquatic.

Botherable.

puckishly

Riddle me this:

What's a midsummer's eve without a fairy?

A perfectly appalling one, is what. Therefore, there's a fairy in the bar.

In addition to the fairy, there is also a veritable proliferation of sweet-scented blossoms. (You may have previously experienced them as salt shakers, or glasses, or perhaps your napkin. The management sends its apologies.) They are bright and fresh and strewn about tables or the floor, and can occasionally be found winding along rafters.

They also have a tendency to bite.

That, or burst into a shower of sparks (illusory ones, of course-- no heat) upon being touched.

HAPPY MIDSUMMER EVERYONE.

[ooc: notice the flowers or miss them entirely-- they'll be gone in a few hours either way! if you'd like them to do something else, ping and ask and ye shall most likely receive.

puck is here and taggable. <333]

nepetaleijon

Seeing a troll kid in the bar is hardly uncommon these days. But one rarely sees a troll kid on the bar.

Specifically: a troll kid in a long green coat, lying on her back on the bartop, blinking dreamily up at the pretty lights in the Observation Window and occasionally trying to paw at them. And purring.

Apparently someone has introduced Nepeta to catnip.

[Open until it scrolls off the front page.]

puckishly

[not out of milliways:

"I love you."
"And I you. Forever, I suspect."]

Puck ought to be feeling a bit more cheerly.

Or ought he to?

He still can't be sure.

His last conversation with Havelock was-- and remains-- unsettling. To look at him, though, you may or may not be able to tell: He's lying on his back on a tabletop, legs kicking fitfully, expression abstracted but not precisely unpleasant.

(He's still got the green tie, and is winding it between his wrists and fingers like a child might play with string.)

puckishly

After this shining example of functional romance ...

For the first few minutes, Puck sat very still. He couldn't help feeling that Havelock might be coming back at any moment, even while he knew that the actual probability was slim.

Then he spent some time glancing up at the rafters.

Then he wondered if he might prevail upon the waitrats to fetch him supper.

Then he rather lost track of time.

Now, Puck is sitting in a booth, waiting for ~~Godot~~ Havelock but fairly certain he shan't be returning, and nearing the anger-bargaining-grief stage of the process.

There is a bright green necktie looped about his neck, rather more like a noose or a leash than a proper garment.

oneman_onevote

Havelock Vetinari makes his way down to the bar with creditable quiet and discretion for someone still with his hands tied behind his back. He is fully dressed, but not at all tidily - his shirt is only halfway buttoned, his shoes are undone, and he isn't wearing socks.

To be honest, he could probably have taken the time to undo the bindings holding back his hands, but that's not really the point - besides, taking care of the booby traps on the door, and the locks after that was excellent practise.

He relaxes marginally once he gets into the more heavily populated area of the bar proper - which is downright strange for him - but it's a reasonable point to end the full stealth scenario.

He slides calmly sideways into a booth, and starts patiently unpicking the silk ties around his wrists.

(Now time isn't an issue, he doesn't have to dislocate anything!)

...

Botherable?

[OOC: LOVELY PEOPLE. Alas, it is past 3am, and I must collapse in a tragic heap and go to sleep. I will tag up tomorrow! <3!!!]

puckishly

[oom: from deep in the forest of slowtime, we bring you the gripping tale of what happens the morning after havelock drinks atlantean.

warnings for grumpiness, cuddles, and sleepily pulling knives on loved ones.]

ikissdhimbck

Folk have been setting up all night, and by noon on this sunny Saturday you won't hardly be able to miss the hoopla once you step out the back door.

A lively tune is playing*, the wide expanse between the lake and the stables filled with party wares. There's a dance floor and a bandstand, both large enough to accommodate a number of people; bleacher-style seating is on either side, where ladies and menfolk can line up and wait for partners. The rest of the seating is in the form of hay bales scattered about.

Long tables are set up with all manner of country cooking, along with plenty of drinks for young and old alike. Tents have been erected, twinkling lights spun around their poles, and when the sun sets fancy lanterns and tea lights will keep the shindig aglow.

*Any band resemblance to ZZ Top is highly coincidental. >.>

makeadeal

There are all manner of odd jobs that come with owning a business such as his. There are books to keep, records to maintain, trinkets to sell, and, on occasion, assess.

Mr. Gold sits tonight at a well-lit table, though the lighting is not meant to be either welcoming nor a deterrent; in short, it is nothing other than a means to an end, this end being, this particular evening, a chance to clean a rather lovely, old-fashioned beer stein, heavily enameled, with the sort of lid that flips open when pressed on with a thumb. He turns it over in white gloved hands, searching for chips or cracks, for smudges or clouded color.

There are six more in the shop, but it hardly makes sense to bring more than one with him, now does it?

[Tiny tag: Mr. Gold]

no_mere_marble

Antinoos is waiting by the door, ready to leave. He has his rubber squid, and a codex bound book from the future written in a completely strange language and illegible script, he has a plan, and is ready to get back to his world and face the music. But first, he is having one last milkshake.
Urquhart is in the kitchen, making a fruit strudel with Southern Comfort in, as he was inspired to do from his conversation with Moist the other night. The kitchen door is a bit ajar, and it's smelling quite interesting already.
Teja is by the fireplace, with several cats around him, playing his guitar. From time to time, he looks longingly at the door. His cats, though, look longingly at the strange animal a few chairs away. They know they're not supposed to attack rats or other people's pets. However, they are cats...

puckishly

It feels like it's been ages upon ages since he was last permitted to speak, though in actual fact it has only been seven days.

Still, Puck faced many trials and dangers, and also had to eat primarily what Havelock ordered for him, and it is all worth it.

He won the bet!

HE CAN'T WAIT TO TELL EVERYONE ABOUT IT.

~ tonight's specials ~

milkshakes, all sorts

(if you are coyote, i believe i am owed one)

Cheerily, the fairy settles back to survey the field of victory.

[ooc: ~~currently slowtimed please! back tomorrow!~~ BACK! Sporadically!]