milliways_bar | Entries tagged with simon skinner

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

It's been a while since Simon Skinner has walked in from Sandford. Today is no different: he walks in from where he's usually walked in from as of late. Chicago. Also typical is the pastry that's been shoved in his mouth, and the sketch pad he's carrying underneath his arm. Funny how he's traded one routine life (albeit, with murderings in) for another (with 100% less murdering!). He loves it, really.

If you need him, he's at a table, enjoying a cup of coffee and that delicious pastry that was shoved in his mouth.

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

Chicago 2005: Domestic duels.

Warning for unfavorable mun opinion of a classic movie.

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

Simon Skinner has been coming in from Chicago a lot* as of late. Today is no different. He has a delectable looking pastry shoved in his mouth and a large sketch pad held under his arm. This (the sketch-pad) he places on a table, which ought to announce to any chair seekers that this spot is his, dangit. After a few attempts to communicate to bar his desire for a cup of coffee (English is hard when there's a pastry in), Simon returns to his table, pulls a newspaper from within the sketchpad and begins to read.

Ah, news from the paaast.

* By "a lot," the narrative means always.

[ooc: also, where are all of you? *pokes* post moar. ]

[ un petit tag: jay gatsby ]

fatboyrun.livejournal.com

Dennis doesn't spot the notice, when he first arrives in Milliways tonight. It's not til he wanders Bar-wards that he spots the cardboard sign, and his face takes on a decided greenish tinge. His attention goes from the sign to the large board filled with innumerable names and types of currency. Dennis squints at the small type, getting up on his knees on a stool and leaning on the bar in order to get a better look at the number next to his name. He leans, he leans, he leans, just a little farther--

And, perhaps predictably, there is a startled "HURK!" sort of a noise, a frantic waving of arms (too little, too late), and a thud that rattles all of the glassware in the general vicinity.

Behind the bar, Dennis says, "...Ow."

He perks up a little, though, as he picks himself up and takes in his surroundings. Since he's back here already, he figures, he might as well get himself a drink. He'll need it, if he's going to figure out how to pay his tab.

Thus, there is a man in a blue windbreaker standing behind the bar, unlit cigarette in his mouth, utterly absorbed in pouring a pint.

(He is bartending, even if he may not realise it yet.)

[Tag: Dennis Doyle, Gordon O'Dell]

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

[ oom: Simon Skinner, batter-stirrer extraordinaire. Except not. ]

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

[ OOM: An art student makes observant observations about Simon Skinner. ]

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

See Simon.

See Simon read.

Read, Simon, read.

[ ooc: break, you say? yes, that still applies. ish. even though i plan to participate in mardi gras tomorrow. but it still applies because boy howdy, i promise you, i am going to be slow, really slow, like molasses, like a slug, like...a really slow thing. ]

Current Location: armchair by the fire

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

"Peekaboo!"

Sarah giggles when Valerie starts to flail about at her touch. She tickles the baby's belly some more, smiling as little legs and arms kick out of the carrier. It's not quite the traditional game of peekaboo - this one involves far more tickling and hiding of Teddy. But once through with tickling, Sarah Jane leans forward to kiss Valerie's forehead.

There's a laptop at the booth beside the pair. She'll return to writing eventually.

ana-pascal.livejournal.com

Different kinds of stress (current reelection news still ringing in her ears) causes different physiological changes (dreading the next four years) in the body. Stress can raise cortisol levels and weaken (the singing and what he said) the immune system and make someone more susceptible (still caught in her head) to colds.

Ana woke up (from a dream of a dystopian society) with a sore throat and (Big Brother's eyes) a headache.

It's brought a bundled-up woman to one of the chairs beside the fire. To tuck up with a book (Where the Sidewalks Ends) and a cup of ginger-citrus tea.

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

[ Not another Skinner OOM: Absence does not always make the heart grow fonder. ]

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

[ OOM: January 20, 2005. Or: Simon Skinner's thoughts on politics. ]

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

[ OOM: Simon Skinner in the city. ]

ana-pascal.livejournal.com

When she comes in-- head bopping, eyes closed, mouthing words beneath her breath-- she isn't entirely paying attention to where she is until she bumps into one of the passing (the one she privately refers to as Jellybean because of the shape of one of its splotches) waitrats.

She swings her head around and opens her eyes wide. Tugging the earpiece of the headphones away (music pouring from the overly outdated Walkman) to listen to the sounds of the bar.

There is singing around here. Why? It occurs to her that it might be one of those things that the bar is known for (didn't eat anything, so what the he--)--and she can't help herself. She holds her head up high, singing as she continues on her way to a booth, "And I am sorry. I am not a maiden fair. And I am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere."

Current Music: Ani DiFranco: "Not a Pretty Girl"

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

Simon Skinner enters not from the countryside winter of Sandford, but from--the city? Yes. The city. Chicago to be exact, and he looks like he's walking on cloud nine (because he is). He claims a table and orders a cup of hot cocoa, then cracks open a book of poetry. Mmm, Borges.

Oh, yes, and there's that tall and damn near chap over there by the fire, reading a book on ornithology--James Something or the Other, drinking a whisky and smoking a cigarette. He's a boring man who leaves a boring life and is best ignored like all other boring things.

Tagless pup: Control

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

In lieu of the newspaper that has increasingly bored him is a book of poetry. The setting is usual: a table, something to drink (wine; he's feeling relaxed tonight). He's very engrossed in the book.

Except for when his eyes are fogged over and staring at a vague spot that's not the book. Thoughts can be so invasive.

callitavesper.livejournal.com

At one table: James Bond, a biography on John F. Kennedy, a cup of coffee, and a notepad. Sometimes he reads the book. At other times, he writes in the notepad. The notes and the book are not at all related.

At another table: Simon Skinner with today's paper and a cup of tea. He's not really reading the paper, though he's staring straight at it with his cheek pressed against his upraised fist. The goings on of Sandford don't really interest him at the end of the universe. He's not sure why, but that's just how it is.

ana-pascal.livejournal.com

Once she sorts the tags out, there's things at the bar. For--

( Simon Skinner )
( Zuko )
( Jason Denton )
( Lissar )

Current Music: Ingrid Michaelson: "The Way I Am"

the_cupbearer

Ganymede is in the Bar, tonight, in modern clothes. His nose just might be buried in a fashion magazine - they don't have these back home, on Olympus, and it's as close as he can come to window-shopping - though, for appearance's sake, he is hiding said magazine in a big, hard-covered copy of Homer.

"...I still don't understand this obsession with ripped garments." He murmurs to himself, eyes wide. For any on-lookers, this is obviously a reference to all of those spears piercing things in the Iliad. That would rip a few garments.

Really truly! :D?

how-ducky.livejournal.com

sitting at the bar
there is a gnome with coffee
and a smile too

he just perfected
a black diamond run in vail
and is pleased tonight

feel free to join him
and listen to his story
you won't regret it!

[ooc: My typist does apologize for the gap in response between EP and tags. I required some nourishment and sent them off to brave the fierce elements for me. As you know, this sweater is wool and I'd hate to have it shrink. But, they've returned!]

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

The narrative disputes any claims that this here entry post for the happy, homicidal grocer exists solely because of this icon. These claims are patently silly. The happy, homicidal grocer known as Simon Skinner is in the bar because ~~he opened a door he thought would lead him elsewhere~~ he wants to.

He's had a fantastic holiday season, thanks for asking.

[ ooc: actually, the rumors are all true.

mun may run out to run a small errand, but otherwise is here aaall night. ]

Current Location: at a table

mistressmaryquitecontrary

It's been a while since Mary Lennox picked up her Shakespeare; her focus has shifted more to mythology, since it seems to be more specifically relevant to the lives of the people she might encounter.

But tonight she's pulled her Complete Shakespeare (of the future) back out, and is currently sitting at a booth, staring in fascination at a rather graphic holographic woodcut of a man having his eyes gouged out.

Anyone who says Shakespeare is boring doesn't know what he's talking about.

realmrsreynolds

The show's about to start, and Sallie's dressed up for the occasion, waiting for the players to approach and sit in the front row.

The decorations turned out well -- Christmas lights lining the rows of chairs, a candelabra on the piano and music stands holding corrected programs for anyone to grab if they so desired.

Having borrowed the microphone to the PA system, Sallie clears her throat and speaks.

"Hello everyone! The recital will be starting in five minutes, so please, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the show."

[OOC: Players, please tag directly under the post. Audience? Tag your reactions under the player's individual tags.]

synapse-circuit.livejournal.com

Security member on duty. And this particular one looks...different.

J.C.'s bioelectrics, the little silver lines and circuit nodes that appeared to be fused with his skin, are now gone - or, at least, not visible. His eyes are a natural brown and not glowing blue.

There's also a jade bead hanging from a black cord around his neck. He doesn't normally wear a necklace, so an astute observer might surmise that the disappearance of his stranger features and the appearance of the necklace are somehow connected. And they would be right.

He also looks a bit less somber than usual: this is because he has finally found a suitable Christmas present for Ana, although of course he hasn't got it with him right now.

Botherable, perhaps more so than usual.

slasherofprices.livejournal.com

Bar can has a Sissy Skinner? Bar can has a Sissy Skinner. A Sissy Skinner with a basket o' flowers, even*.

(Said Sissy Skinner has a confused cousin back at home wondering what's gotten into him, why he didn't bellow out a greeting and act in his usual bombastic, invasive and theatrical manner, why he, in short, was acting normal. She is not the only one in Sandford to wonder that lately.)

* No, you cannot has flowers. Not yours! Unless your name is Ana Pascal.

Current Mood: normal
Current Location: at the bar

undignified

Look at that -- there's a pilot behind the Bar.

Wes has chalked up a helpful DRINKS on the Specials board.

He's also put out a bowl of mini chocolate-covered Oreos, even though they probably won't go with most drinks. It's the thought that counts.