milliways_bar | Entries tagged with syal antilles

whattattoos.livejournal.com

So Milliways is pretty much always weird, which explains why Myri is currently behind the Bar, slowly writing down the specials in all-caps. The book of Aurebesh-to-Alphabet letters that Bar provided her is helping, but it still takes a couple of minutes for her to finish chalking them onto the board.

When she's done, it reads:

GREEN GALAXY
REACTOR CORE
FIZZBREW
WHYREN'S RESERVE

TIP AND GET A FREE CARD TRICK

That done, she pulls out a deck of sabacc cards and begins to shuffle them, occasionally pausing to push her hair out of her eyes.

[ooc: ~~Here until about 7pm EST, then back at about 8 and staying until 10. :D Gone for an hour or so. Back later!~~ Back!]

saint4hire.livejournal.com

Japan is lovely this time of year. This is obvious from the view revealed when the door opens this time: a panorama of temperate forest and mountainside farmland, stepped in tiers to maximise usable land.

The view is brief, as the door shutsbehind the newest patron: a tall man in feudal era armour, peering out at the bar behind a black iron mask, which he removes after a second.

"What the devil...?"

[OOC: Takezo Kensei is pre-Heroes season 2, but all thread with him, his userinfo and other icons are a spoiler for 201: Four Months Later]

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

There is something deeply unsettling about enforcing a blockade against your own home planet.

But as long as Syal Antilles is an officer of the Galactic Alliance, she'll follow Alliance orders. Even if those orders seem silly and come from a man who should be spending less time with politicians and the military, and more time with animals and trees. Or whatever.

Still, Milliways is a pleasant surprise.

Until she gets to the Bar, tries to order a nerf steak, and gets a squishy foam pointy thing.

"...uh."

[ooc: here all day; tag any time. ♥]

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

[ oom: in a galaxy far, far away, it's a bad time to be Corellian on Coruscant. Jacen Solo used to be such a friendly boy.

pretend there wasn't a three month gap between this and the last oom. (see: plot tag.)]

badboybutterman

There's a policemanofficer in the bar.

Danny's off-duty, though, way way way off-duty, and he's having dinner by himself (although he'd rather be having dinner with Nicholas right now but apparently Milliways didn't see fit to pull them in together like usual so WHATEVS) of a nice steak-and-veggie pasty with a side of baked beans. He's also wearing his favorite Bristol Rovers jersey and thinking about the upcoming football season.

Mmmmm...football.

[OOC: Posting for car keys, but not plot-locked, so any and all other tags are welcome.]

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

[ OOM: Admiral Pellaeon, Supreme Commander of the Galactic Alliance Defence Force, retires without a word to the public. Some people find this odd. ]

whattattoos.livejournal.com

[OOM: On Corellia, one of the Antilles brats gets ready to protect her father. Weird, how it always used to be the other way around.]

Myri gives her hair one more look, then opens the door, hoping to grab the last few items she needs from around the house.

So ... when did her house turn into a bar? She really can't have her house be a bar when she needs to be getting ready so she can make sure her father doesn't die. It's really, really not one of the optimal things right now.

"Um ... Mom? Uncle Corran?"

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

[OOM: it's not a war yet, but it's getting there.]

Syal Antilles walks through the door in a rumpled grey flightsuit, hair a sweaty mess and a blanket around her shoulders; she's still a little cold from exposure to vacuum, but she's in one piece after the battle, and that's a very good thing.

She stops and stares for a moment, then mumbles a curse (she's not dressed for a tapcaf) and hurries to Bar for a room key and a change of clothes before heading upstairs.

Half an hour later, she returns, much cheerier looking, freshly-showered and in civilian clothes.

She sits at Bar and orders a nice (un)healthy Corellian lunch, and some Whyren's Reserve.

She's earned it.

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

[ OOM: Apparently the name 'Lysa Dunter' doesn't fool everyone, especially not Corellian Intel. Syal's secret is out and there are consequences. ]

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

The door has caught Syal after another patrol of Corellian space; a short one this time, so she's not too tired or rumpled.

She still doesn't want to sit around the bar in her flightsuit and with her helmet (there's always the potential to lose it). So she approaches Bar, asks for "casual clothes, Corellian style? And a room key, I guess, but just for a few hours," and heads upstairs to shower and change.

When she returns, her hair's damp and combed neatly out of her face, and she settles in at Bar for lunch (a fresh salad -- you don't get that on a spaceship surviving on Alliance rations) and "a drink I've not had -- not too alcoholic, just something that tastes good."

(It's a banana daiquiri.)

(She's not sure what she thinks of it, yet.)

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

"Hey, astral."

Syal brightens as she enters Milliways, dressed in casual clothes and hair still wet from her shower. (A rare real shower, not a sonic one, so she's already in a good mood.)

She tucks her bangs behind her ear (they stay for once, only because of the dampness) and heads straight for Bar, intending to order lum and good Corellian food. But the other girl's meal catches her eyes, and she stands there thoughtfully for a moment before saying, quietly, "Can I get what she has? It looks good. Thanks," she adds when the food and juice appears.

Politeness will get you pretty far, even when you're being polite to an apparently inanimate object.

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

The Corellian system is a surprisingly boring place when you're not actually spending time on Corellia itself. When you're just patrolling it in your Eta-5, touring the edges of the system to make sure ships aren't trying to sneak in from this side, and all you have to occupy yourself is the challenge of identifying constellations from a slightly different viewpoint to normal -- it's just a little bit boring.

At least, Syal thinks as she wanders through the door, only mildly surprised to find herself in Milliways instead of her bunkroom, no one's shooting at us again yet.

She hops up on a bar stool, orders some milk, and watches the other patrons.

Yep. Milliways is more interesting than the outskirts of the Corellian system, that's for sure.

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

Syal pulls a face as she enters the bar, still in her grey flightsuit, gloves and boots, and brushes her bangs out of her eyes with the hand not holding her helmet.

She'd really rather be looking at her cabin, so that she could dump her clothes and go for a shower. Being cooped up in an interceptor for hours patrolling the uneventful edges of Corellian space is more tiring and dirty than you might think.

But a drink isn't too unwelcome, and she could always shower and change here, scoring an extra hour or so of sleep back on the Dodonna, right?

Right.

So she heads for Bar, puts her helmet down and hops on a stool. "Juri juice, please."

inthetoilet.livejournal.com

[OOM: Tim gets the answer to 'why forensics?'.]

The door to Milliways swings open once again. On the other side of the door is the hallway of the Miami-Dade County crime lab. Standing in the doorway is one Tim Speedle, one hand on the door handle and the other hanging onto his motorcycle helmet.

Speed blinks, looks over his shoulder then back again. There's supposed to be a parking lot here. His bike is supposed to be here. Not a bar.

"...the hell?"

OOC: [~~Mun is heading off to work, and won't be back for about six hours. Feel free to still tag in; I'll respond to all tags when I get back~~ Back from work!]

hearthethoughts.livejournal.com

They say that actions speak louder then words.

And that's totally and utterly true as far as Matt Parkman's concerned. He's not bound, his door's there, his world's probably frozen (or at least some corner of it) with his wife worrying her brains out and his ex-partner and best friend nursing an amazing black eye.

But he doesn't want to see it.

Really and truly. It's twofold. He's afraid that if he goes home he's going to end up crawling into another bar for more answers, and hell-most people in his world don't provide the coherent answers that milliwaysers do.

So. Action: Matt Parkman in a table with his back firmly to the door, a pair of headphones, the chargers game. He sneakily suspects that they're going all the way this year.

Moments pass, before he leaps to his feet and screams "TOUCHDOWN!"

He sits again, grinning stupidly at his breakfast, Huevos Rancheros.

[Tags might be slow, but please don't let that defer you from tagging?]

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

This time, when (Lysa) Syal enters the bar, it's in casual civilian clothes, including a jacket (space is cold). Her first combat mission was a couple days ago; the debriefing aboard the Dodonna while in hyperspace yesterday.

It was all -- interesting.

Perhaps it should be counted a success! She got her first confirmed kill, and certainly proved she can keep her head while out there. But her first kill was a Corellian, her first combat mission was against her homeworld -- interesting is still the appropriate word for the experience.

And now she's walked into this bar again. Those corridors really need to stop changing like that.

Well, some downtime here instead of Coruscant would be okay, she decides, and heads for Bar.

hadtobegood.livejournal.com

Lysa Dunter -- because she's Lysa, just now, Ensign Lysa Dunter of Vibrosword Squadron -- has a mission soon, very soon; her first ever combat mission.

(If she's lucky, of course, she won't actually see combat, but if she wants to be lucky, she should stay grounded -- and she doesn't want to be lucky.)

The briefing was earlier, and she's in her flight gear now -- grey jumpsuit, boots, helmet in her hand -- and heading for the hangar on the Dodonna, where she'll meet her squadron, do the pre-flight checks, and fly out.

Only ... the hangar wasn't a bar, before.

"Did I ... get turned around, somewhere?"