The Bar at the End of the Universe

It had been a quiet day for Kate when the loud BWA-BOOOOOOOM shook the bar. She'd just settled down after her nightly chores in the stables, easing the tension out of her back in an armchair by the fire, sipping on a hot tea with bourbon in.

(It's getting close to All Hallows' Eve, and that's making her anxious.)

However, she didn't have all that long to think about the approaching holiday before she was seeing the room from an even lower vantage point, face scrunched in distaste at the liquor on her tongue. She blinked at the teacup and quickly set it down, jumped to her feet, and looked around the strange room.

" ... Daddy?"

Kate Barlow, aged twelve, was off in search of her father.

What she found instead were the libraries.


Now, far calmer, a young Kate sits amid a pile of books, occasionally sweeping cautious glances around the room. She's finding the words of Jules Verne to be a comfort at present. Clearly she slipped and bumped her head during chores, or stumbled onto a glorious vessel somewhere in deep space. She isn't quite sure what to make of it right now, but anywhere with an endless supply of science fiction can't be all that bad.


[ooc: open forever! you may find Kate in the library or the main bar. if your character wants to be in on a heist, they can take this opportunity to meet Kate. the actual heist will happen in a later post, so it's not required you tag this one (I'll update all interested parties once it's all in place). if you'd like me to send Kate round to one of your posts, just let me know!

tiny!tag: age spell plot]

Kate comes inside trailing clouds of dust behind her. She's been working the stables, as usual. Today was a hot one, and it didn't seem fit working the stock so long as the sun was high, so she set about cleaning and organizing instead. She takes off her hat and sets it on the Bar, wincing apologetically as dirt puffs up and settles on the lacquered surface.

"Beggin' your pardon, Miss. I'll clean it up. Meantime, could I get somethin' cold?"

A pint of peach cobbler ice cream pops up as she settles herself on a stool. She eyeballs it dubiously. How can you put a respectable cobbler in a bucket of cold ice cream? She don't believe it can be done. Naturally, she won't dismiss it out of hand without giving it a fair shake. For science, and all.

She opens a ledger and starts going over notes, scooting the pint closer. Every now and again, her hand strays to her chest, absently playing with the necklace she's wearing. It's strangely soothing.


[ooc: Open indefinitely, inside the bar or outside.]

Kate dismissed her vidscreen without making a selection yesterday, due to one fuzzy distraction that proved to be an all-day affair. Let no man question the loyalty of a dog.

However, this morning she was presented with the same selection of Cubefall configurations. She has to admit after watching Tommy for a day, the idea of being something else for a little while is attractive. Something without worrisome thoughts. She eyes her vidscreen carefully.


( And these are her choices: )

There is a fluffy, white kitten on the Bar, with orange-cream boots and matching markings on her face. She's old enough to be gangly, past the chubby baby stage and into her pre-teens. In cat years, of course. Still, she wobbles a little as she tries to walk, paws sliding out from under her on the polished surface.

"Mew!"

Presently, a note appears on the Bar in front of her pink little nose.

Keep an eye on things while you sleep? You must be joking! Miss Bar?

"Mew?!"


Well. Happy Hour appears to be open. The specials board is ... blank. Your feline bartender is sitting, half-asleep, waiting expectantly to fill your order. Just don't expect much.


[ooc: Happy Hour is open from now until I fall over. Kate's style of serving will likely be whatever's light enough for her to push around or carry in her jaws, so be prepared for some hijinks and wrong orders coming through. I'll be reachable in crackchat for the evening. ^__^ ETA: Calling it a night. Will pick up tags Thursday evening, thank you so much everyone! This made my day.]

Previously...

The door swings open to a moist, hot desert night, all dark save for the woman who strolls in outlined in firelight. She's wearing her customary boots and britches, gun belt swung over her hips, but only a silk and lace camisole on top. She's also drying her face with an old scrap of linen, and looks completely surprised to see the bar.

She freezes like a deer in the headlights.

"Um. Rachel? Could y'bring me my blouse?"

She's shortly joined by the slender blonde, wearing her lycra morphing outfit under an open blouse. She does have her skirts in hand, however, and after a hushed conversation shrugs and goes to buy them a couple of drinks. Better sleeping in a real bed than a bedroll out in the middle of nowhere, at least for tonight. Kate quickly shrugs on her blouse, taking care as the cuffs drag across her ruddy knuckles, and heads toward Miss Bar while buttoning up.

She's got a smile on her face tonight, despite the embarrassment, and only a few flecks of blood at best remain on her skin. Aside from those split knuckles, in fact, one might even say she hasn't looked so good in months.

After a square meal and a cold drink, she'll go check on the stables. But for right now, both women are utterly botherable.


[ooc: Two pups, two muns! Feel free to catch Kate inside the bar or out in the stables, as you like. When tagging, specify Kate, Rachel, or Both in the subject line, please. Open forever, and slowtimes are always welcome. ^__^

Edit: WARNING for semi-handwaved adult content in the Tommy Gavin thread!]