milliways_bar | Entries tagged with robbie preston

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

The door opens; on the other side, a bland, carpeted hallway can be seen. The dark-haired woman who steps through is carrying an overnight bag, large enough for perhaps a week's stay somewhere. It's not until she sets the bag down and turns around to retrieve her key that the nature of the place starts to intrude on her perceptions, and she doesn't even really realise that it's not where she'd meant to go until she looks up, the door clicking shut behind her and vanishing without a sound.

Welcome to Milliways, Annie Wells.

jusa-littlelion.livejournal.com

He hasn't been out of his room.

He's Afraid that something else would happen. Perhaps this place isn't as wholesome and family friendly as he thought.

But he's here.

Looking around a bit nervously, trying to decide if he wants to eat or if he wants to go back to his room. There are a few people that he recognizes but the majority of the folks in-bar are new faces.

Loud faces.

Gathering up all of his mental bearing, Robbie breathes deep before walking further into bar.

Feel free to introduce yourself. He sure as hell could use comfort.

Current Mood: scared

fathers-cleric.livejournal.com

Two Librians walk into a bar.

No wait, that's not how it goes.

Two Librians walk downstairs. They're back in their somber gray attire-so it stands to reason that they must be going home (as if the dufflebag Preston was carrying weren't a big enough clue) Neither Father nor son look particularly sociable, but Robbie's got a very dark look on his face.

They're sitting in a booth toward the fire enjoying a light meal. You could cut the tension between them with a knife.

Doesn't mean you can't attempt to talk to them.

gone_byebye

Here's someone who hasn't been seen in the Bar in a long, long time.

.... well, no. That's not entirely correct. Quite a few people here would be willing to say he's been in the bar recently, but they'd only be partly right. After all, the Ray Stantz who was here last was a little taller than that, and a little less pudgy (not a lot, just a little), and he didn't blink nearly so much at his surroundings. And he sure wasn't a redhead.

"Oh," says Ray as the door closes behind him. "This place again. Cool, it worked!"

And he grins and trots over to the Bar, blissfully oblivious to the fact that he's still in uniform and has his goggles pushed up on his head.

jusa-littlelion.livejournal.com

It wouldn't be a complete holiday without someone who's never experienced a holiday (or has a skewed impression of it)

Robbie's gotten a blanket and found an out of way booth in the darkness of the bar, reassured by his encounter with Aslan, Robbie's feeling safe.

Until he wakes up and sees bar.

"....Oh-boy-"

There seems to be bright colors, lots of flowers-

Robbie, welcome to your first holiday at Milliways.

Current Mood: awake

treading_dawn

In one of the more shadowed corners of the bar something stirs, tawny-gold fur catching the light.

It is a Lion, head coming up off his forepaws, solemn golden eyes watching the patrons as they pass by.

Aslan has been here for quite some time.

jusa-littlelion.livejournal.com

There's a small child in the bar.

Well, not so small. A few weeks have passed in Libria and Robbie's a growing boy. (Taller if anything)

He takes a cautious look around and darts back into the bar.

Maybe you can catch him. If you're quick.

fathers-cleric.livejournal.com

[OOC: The importance of society, the mantle of carrying human civilization is passed to the next generation. Robbie and John Discuss this as Preston reaches a decision. millitimed to a couple of days ago.]

There's a father and a son standing at the door.
Now's the time.

The Father's got a few books, ones that certain bar patrons might recognize. Handing them off to his Son, Preston pats Robbie fondly on the head.

The door is there. It's been there for quite a while, neither of them have wanted to notice it.

Robbie stands firmly, struggling under the weight-but there's never been more happiness on his face-or the face of his father.

Preston opens the door for his son, watching as Robbie emerges into a stone-cold courtyard.

Those who'd look through would see the beginnings of flowers. Some of the stones in the courtyard have been torn away and one can see Gray faced librians working with seeds-tentatively examining the flowers that appear to have sprung up of their own violation.

Preston watches for a few moments before he closes the door behind him, striding off.
He's still got things to do here.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

Quinn had intended to find Ace this evening, or at least try to, but after being accused twice of child endangerment or worse he's not really in the mood for encountering Bar Security. Thus, he's outside tonight. Hardship indeed, to be among green growing things under the open sky.

Because he is a fair-minded individual, he went to the stable, carefully not looking at Ravenscourt, and took Ross out earlier.

You somehow get a better view of the stars from horseback.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

[OOM: First, Quinn Abercromby left Milliways, trailed by a curious Robbie Preston. Then he turned around to find the door was gone, and that Robbie was in Alnwick Castle with him. Introductions were made and people were met with, and Robbie saw something of that world...

maybe just a little too much.]

Out back, from under the trees, there is the sudden sound of frantic hoofbeats. A black, cobby horse with a white blaze charges into the open, burdened by not one but two riders. It's some distance, and several moments, before they come to a stop.

If you thought Quinn Abercromby stared at his environs the first time he came to Milliways, you should see the look on his face now.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

Quinn stayed last night. He had some things to think about.

Still does.

He's over by the fire, his usual cup of largely untouched but still hot coffee in his hands, where he can smell it and feel it without having to engage his conscious mind about it. That's sort of tied up elsewhere.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

[OOM: Back home, Quinn reconciles himself to reality. Or at least, he thinks he does...]

The door opens. There is a vague smell of damp, and a much less vague smell of horse. "Ajay? I-"

Quinn stops dead two paces inside the door.

"Bloody hell," he whispers after a bit. "It was real?"

river_meimei

River's under a booth, again, curled up beneath the table with her back against the wall.

She has hot cocoa (with orange and cinnamon, slowly cooling by her bare toes), and the black glittering pashmina shawl Ingress gave her for Christmas, and layered skirts of pink and white.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

[OOM: There'll always be an England. It's just that eventually, it's REALLY going to suck.]

The door opens, and for a moment the ruddy-gold light of candles and lamps can be seen on the other side. Not for long, though. The blue-clad, bearded fellow who trudges through closes the door behind him.

And then stops, two paces in, and stares.

Quinn Abercromby hasn't got any words at all for this.

gone_byebye

Just occasionally, Ray has a few moments free back home that aren't taken up with slime, or research, or martial practice, or his daughter, or his dog, or weird people on the front doorstep, or or his nephews, or his fiancee. And just occasionally, he opts to spend those times here.

... look, if he doesn't take advantage of end-of-the-universe-related time-pouching effects, who will? Anyway, Ray's got dinner and a seat near the Observation Window. Hurray for him.

fathers-cleric.livejournal.com

Having just learned that his tab was payed by Ray, Preston and Robbie have sequestered themselves in a corner.

Preston, mulling his thoughts over with green tea and Robbie looking through a faded copy of the guiness book of world records.

Tag one! Or both.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells came inside last night, eventually; there was no sense or advantage to sleeping rough, no matter how unsociable he felt.

Where he's been most of the morning is hard to say, but where he is now, is at the same table near the Window as yesterday. He's got lunch- a good sized bowl of the spiciest meatless chili he could get the Bar to give him, and some beer. He'd stil like to know what kind of pervert thinks lime belongs in perfectly good beer, though.

jusa-littlelion.livejournal.com

There's a little boy in the bar.

Don't panic! His dad's upstairs just-dead to the world. Robbie, completely lost and a bit oblivious-spots a familiar face, heading over.

Current Mood: sleepy

jusa-littlelion.livejournal.com

The door creaks open a crack.

Then it opens wider.

The child-population of the bar has increased by one as Robbie Preston enters, tossing and catching a rather old looking-

Well-maybe it's a baseball?

Current Mood: accomplished

fathers-cleric.livejournal.com

Stop us if you've heard this one.

Two librians walk into a bar.

One's a cleric, considered the best that his society has to offer. The other is his son, bound to follow in his father's footsteps.

You haven't heard it?
Two Librians for the price of one. Tag at your leasiure.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells is in a better mood now than he was earlier. Thank the Landlord for small mercies, 'cos for a while there he was in one mother of a vile temper.

Now, though, he's picked up a bit, so he's got himself a nice vegetarian curry straight from the Bar thank you very much, and a spot near the door, and an empty chair or two at his table.

He's not bitey at the moment, so come by and say hi if you like.

jusa-littlelion.livejournal.com

[ Just after-This!]

There's a child in the bar.

More accurately being flung through a door-as if pushed. As the door closes one might be able to hear sound of gunfire-

Or it might just be your imagination.

Standing, he rubs at his head where there is a rather large purple-y bruise growing.

And then his eyes go big.

Very. Very. big.

Welcome to Milliways Robbie Preston.