The Bar at the End of the Universe

[OOC: OOM:calyx

which is:

RESUMPTION

]

[OOC: OOM:

I'm fightin' for my soul
God get atcha boy]

[OOC: OOM:

Like a bird on a wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir


I have tried in my way to be free

Warning for some violence and racially charged language]

It's been a long time since Susannah was arrested, and she has to admit they're treating her (all of them) better than they did in Oxford. She's on her way back from the bathroom (the handicapped stall is like negotiating a horizontal jungle gym with a pressing issue on your mind, but she managed) when the bar appears.

Well, she could use a drink. And a chance to collect her thoughts before she goes on the evening news programs.

[OOC: OOM: that's my voice


rising

(and in these silences, something may rise...)]

[OOC: OOM:

that news coming down the wire
Says your world's on fire
And I'm trying to get a message

through to you]

Susannah looks frazzled, tired, and grateful to find the bar up this ramp where she was expecting a Whole Foods. She's also, relatedly, wearing a bright t-shirt that marks her as Atticus Circle Event Staff (and a matching placard on the back of her chair), along with a plastic ID card on a lanyard, which isn't anyone's best look. (The rainbow streamers someone put through her spokes are considerably more cheery.)

She probably shouldn't come back from lunch with gin on her breath, she supposes; she passes over the Dragonfly the bar offers for something with electrolytes. It's hot in the capitol. There's also chicken salad.

[OOC: OOM: And keep on stretching the antennae
Hoping that it will come clear]

[OOC: OOM:

It's a shocking bit of footage
seen on a shitty TV screen]

[OOC: OOM:

What good is the finest Tower
if you haven't got a key?]

Second verse, same as the first.

Susannah is back, trying once again to get some work done away from her troublesome menfolk. Not that she doesn't have a perfectly good office to hide in if she really felt like playing the recluse. But they don't keep liquor in the house, and where would she be without her Dragonfly?

The mountain of paper situation has only gotten worse; more resumes, print-outs of her memos that she's now marking up in red pen, and a file from the Vannay Institute about Stephen King's latest publications. Among other things.

She's open to distraction; just don't bring up Ron Howard.

It is a sad state of affairs when you have to come to Milliways to get some peace and quiet to work, but here's Susannah Toren with her laptop. Her brother-in-law is visiting Maine for the first time in a couple of months and Guitar Hero on the Wii is making the old farmhouse sound like the scene of a riot.

And now that she is done ruining people's shit on the drums she is far too busy and mature at her age to put up with that kind of nonsense. She has an action plan to finish writing and a bunch of resumes to go through. She's going to be spending the summer consulting with the Atticus Circle, and they offered to provide her with a personal assistant, but hers will need... special qualities.