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May. 27th, 2007 12:55 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
slightlymonkish.livejournal.com[OOM: There's a Security note up regarding John Adams and Toby Ziegler. Also their visiting post!]
slightlymonkish.livejournal.com
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May. 20th, 2007 09:21 pmgrumpywordsmith.livejournal.comIt's the rubber ball's fault.
Yes, that rubber ball. The one Toby bounces when he's thinking--or hurls at the glass partition when he wants Sam's attention and can't be bothered to get up.
The ball has gone bouncing down the hall of the West Wing and Toby is hustling after it--Toby hates to hustle--and he's so intent on not slamming into somebody else--like, say, President Bartlet--that Toby doesn't even notice when a door seems to open by itself to let the ball bounce in.
Of course, only when it slams shut behind him does Toby realize it isn't a door but a Door.
"....Ah, well. I could use a martini."
He grabs a seat at the bar and tires, quite unsuccessfully, not to be seen.
At least he got the rubber ball back.
Yes, that rubber ball. The one Toby bounces when he's thinking--or hurls at the glass partition when he wants Sam's attention and can't be bothered to get up.
The ball has gone bouncing down the hall of the West Wing and Toby is hustling after it--Toby hates to hustle--and he's so intent on not slamming into somebody else--like, say, President Bartlet--that Toby doesn't even notice when a door seems to open by itself to let the ball bounce in.
Of course, only when it slams shut behind him does Toby realize it isn't a door but a Door.
"....Ah, well. I could use a martini."
He grabs a seat at the bar and tires, quite unsuccessfully, not to be seen.
At least he got the rubber ball back.
(no subject)
May. 17th, 2007 08:32 pmregtuesdaysuit.livejournal.comLittle-known fact: the White House never sleeps.
Okay, perhaps not so little-known, as the staffers of the Bartlet White House are, even so early into the term, well accustomed to running full speed all day on empty. NASCAR pit teams would weep to see the way they treat themselves.
There's a lot to do, you know? And Josh Lyman's the guy to do it. I mean, obviously. Are you possibly going to trust someone less competent? There are an awful lots of candidates in that respect, I know, but come on.
When the Door opens this time, the other side is full of bustle. If you've never seen the inside of the West Wing, now's your chance to snag a glimpse as a man -- in his prime, I might add -- strides through, yelling over his shoulder.
"--And get me that memo on how to kick Mary Marsh's ass on TV tomorrow! Not that I need one, but--"
At some point, it becomes important to watch where one is going. The man turns his head midsentence and... very abruptly trails off. He's newish to the White House, but not so new as to have missed the existence of an entire bar hidden in one of the rooms. So Josh Lyman resorts to the first recourse that comes to mind. The one that always works. He surveys the people who are and aren't looking at him and shouts "DONNA!"
[[ooc: GUYS. Hi! Josh is coming in from just before the pilot of The West Wing. And if you know![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
verymodelof, don't be shy -- they really do look awfully alike.]]
Okay, perhaps not so little-known, as the staffers of the Bartlet White House are, even so early into the term, well accustomed to running full speed all day on empty. NASCAR pit teams would weep to see the way they treat themselves.
There's a lot to do, you know? And Josh Lyman's the guy to do it. I mean, obviously. Are you possibly going to trust someone less competent? There are an awful lots of candidates in that respect, I know, but come on.
When the Door opens this time, the other side is full of bustle. If you've never seen the inside of the West Wing, now's your chance to snag a glimpse as a man -- in his prime, I might add -- strides through, yelling over his shoulder.
"--And get me that memo on how to kick Mary Marsh's ass on TV tomorrow! Not that I need one, but--"
At some point, it becomes important to watch where one is going. The man turns his head midsentence and... very abruptly trails off. He's newish to the White House, but not so new as to have missed the existence of an entire bar hidden in one of the rooms. So Josh Lyman resorts to the first recourse that comes to mind. The one that always works. He surveys the people who are and aren't looking at him and shouts "DONNA!"
[[ooc: GUYS. Hi! Josh is coming in from just before the pilot of The West Wing. And if you know
verymodelof, don't be shy -- they really do look awfully alike.]](no subject)
Mar. 30th, 2007 09:08 pmobnoxiousadams.livejournal.comSo Mr. Adams is the first of Heather's pups back in Milliways this evening, but the strange thing about his presence tonight is that you probably won't notice him!
"Not notice John Adams, of all people?" you ask?
Well, if you notice the man slumped over in a chair near the fireplace looking rather forlorn, you are noticing John Adams.
But if you don't notice the man, you're... not noticing him.
Notice him or not, he's there, nursing a mug of rum.
[ooc: It's now 11 PM EST and I've hit the hay! No new threads, please. Slowtimes will be picked up tomorrow. :D]
"Not notice John Adams, of all people?" you ask?
Well, if you notice the man slumped over in a chair near the fireplace looking rather forlorn, you are noticing John Adams.
But if you don't notice the man, you're... not noticing him.
Notice him or not, he's there, nursing a mug of rum.
[ooc: It's now 11 PM EST and I've hit the hay! No new threads, please. Slowtimes will be picked up tomorrow. :D]
(no subject)
Dec. 26th, 2006 05:54 pmwaylostandfound.livejournal.comNathan had been around, but mostly focusing on keeping things in order for his campaign, and keeping an casual eye on Peter. He barely gave the holiday trappings a glance as he found a table to sit at with some newspapers, and letters that he had been putting together. To him, it was still October, not December. As soon as that damn Door showed up, he was going to have a lot of work ahead of him.
(no subject)
Dec. 10th, 2006 05:19 amneverswimalone.livejournal.comPenguins inna bar!
One! One penguin! Reading the New York times and managing a rather large red pen with surprising accuracy.
Two! Two penguins! carefully scrutinizing a picture of someone rather important. Bernard Acres. Zoo Director.
Three! Three Penguins! Rico is karate-chopping a dummy. The Fourth penguin, also known as Private- is wiggling his feet as he watches the people go by.
Either they're training, or they're just being crazy.
One! One penguin! Reading the New York times and managing a rather large red pen with surprising accuracy.
Two! Two penguins! carefully scrutinizing a picture of someone rather important. Bernard Acres. Zoo Director.
Three! Three Penguins! Rico is karate-chopping a dummy. The Fourth penguin, also known as Private- is wiggling his feet as he watches the people go by.
Either they're training, or they're just being crazy.
(no subject)
Nov. 29th, 2006 10:41 pmverymodelof.livejournal.com[Pre-entrance post]
"- nurse... went...?"
Danny trailed off and frowned at the room he had just walked into. He had been in the studio. Now, he was most definitely not. Danny could tell the difference between his studio and a bar, and this was definitely the latter. He wondered if it should worry him that his first thought was to wonder if Simon and Tom had had anything to do with this.
He tilted his head to one side, quietly considering his surroundings and finally observed eloquently, "Huh."
[OOC: Danny Tripp from Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Forgive any weirdness in the narration - the typist is in an odd mood.]
"- nurse... went...?"
Danny trailed off and frowned at the room he had just walked into. He had been in the studio. Now, he was most definitely not. Danny could tell the difference between his studio and a bar, and this was definitely the latter. He wondered if it should worry him that his first thought was to wonder if Simon and Tom had had anything to do with this.
He tilted his head to one side, quietly considering his surroundings and finally observed eloquently, "Huh."
[OOC: Danny Tripp from Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Forgive any weirdness in the narration - the typist is in an odd mood.]
(no subject)
Oct. 12th, 2006 06:46 pmgrumpywordsmith.livejournal.comThe Front Door opens to allow a small rubber ball to come bouncing into the bar.
"Sam!"
"Sam! Do I have to do everything around here?"
Moments later, a grumbling White House Director of Communications comes into the bar. Not that he's noticed--he's too absorbed in scowling at the sheaf of papers he has in his hand. He reaches down automatically for the ball, which has come to rest against a chair leg, and only as he rises back up does he notice where he is. Just in time to hear the Door slam shut behind him.
"Not again!"
"Sam!"
"Sam! Do I have to do everything around here?"
Moments later, a grumbling White House Director of Communications comes into the bar. Not that he's noticed--he's too absorbed in scowling at the sheaf of papers he has in his hand. He reaches down automatically for the ball, which has come to rest against a chair leg, and only as he rises back up does he notice where he is. Just in time to hear the Door slam shut behind him.
"Not again!"
(no subject)
Oct. 12th, 2006 03:51 pmmakesfiends.livejournal.comFor anyone who missed her delightful company when she arrived yesterday, now is your chance.
The contrary green, Bulgarian sounding, girl is sitting at the bar today, mixing several ingredients in a large bowl. The soft gooey substance is currently a bright fuchsia colour, and seems to be slowly thickening.
After a few minutes stirring Vendetta stops, peers behind the bar, but seeing no one to take her order, she waves her arms about - shouting, "I -demand CLAMS! Right now!"
Pinkish goop goes flying.
"And grape punch!" she adds in a similarly clamorous tone.
Bar's probably heard the order, but there may be other useful information she could stand to learn. The rules, for example.
The contrary green, Bulgarian sounding, girl is sitting at the bar today, mixing several ingredients in a large bowl. The soft gooey substance is currently a bright fuchsia colour, and seems to be slowly thickening.
After a few minutes stirring Vendetta stops, peers behind the bar, but seeing no one to take her order, she waves her arms about - shouting, "I -demand CLAMS! Right now!"
Pinkish goop goes flying.
"And grape punch!" she adds in a similarly clamorous tone.
Bar's probably heard the order, but there may be other useful information she could stand to learn. The rules, for example.
(no subject)
May. 19th, 2006 10:46 pmdoc-venkman.livejournal.comHe's been around, sort of. But he's getting another entrance after a while.
The one, the only Peter Venkman. The Mouth of the Ghostbusters, and now declared God of the Razor Tongued and Speech. (via FX)
And for old times sake, he's wearing that damn shiny gold uniform again. Because after the insanity with rescuing Ray, and the craziness in Danny's world (still slowtimed)... Not to mention work and family stuff in his own, he needed something to make him smile. So, gold uniform and shades, sitting at his usual table with his feet propped up on it, and drinking a beer.
And hell, if you're gonna be a god. Might as well be a golden god and go all out.
The one, the only Peter Venkman. The Mouth of the Ghostbusters, and now declared God of the Razor Tongued and Speech. (via FX)
And for old times sake, he's wearing that damn shiny gold uniform again. Because after the insanity with rescuing Ray, and the craziness in Danny's world (still slowtimed)... Not to mention work and family stuff in his own, he needed something to make him smile. So, gold uniform and shades, sitting at his usual table with his feet propped up on it, and drinking a beer.
And hell, if you're gonna be a god. Might as well be a golden god and go all out.
(no subject)
May. 16th, 2006 12:05 ammoresexthanme.livejournal.comAnother night, another rejection. Another evening spent reading a book on spiders.
Poor Winnifred.
At this rate, the only thing it looks like he has going for him is that he showed up here tonight.
Might as well get a drink.
[ooc: Okay, he's gone now. As am I. Time for bed!]
Poor Winnifred.
At this rate, the only thing it looks like he has going for him is that he showed up here tonight.
Might as well get a drink.
[ooc: Okay, he's gone now. As am I. Time for bed!]
genius-aspires.livejournal.com[OOM: Pre-Milliways. Whitetext throughout.]
The door opens, blowing in a strong gust of rainy wind. A man walks through and he has a purpose about his stride, resolve written in every line on his face. He's soaked through and his hair's a mess - with the fact that he's short of stature, one glance might make you think that he's just a regular man.
And you'd be right, he is. He has an important job though and he wants to do it, regardless of everything that tells him he shouldn't.
But now he's here, wherever here is. And not looking all that pleased about it.
OMG, Semester's OVER, BRING IT!, post
Dec. 19th, 2005 07:53 pmgrumpywordsmith.livejournal.comFour men are seated around a table.
Under some incredibly dense clouds of cigar smoke.
Playing especially cut-throat rounds of poker.
Hmm, the bald speechwriter is really taking the other three gents to school.
Funny, he doesn't seem very worried about the glares he's getting from the dead psychiatrist, the equally dead former Watcher, or the very-much-alive, pondering-his-neuralyzer Man in Black.
But then he's a pretty confident guy.
Yup, it's Malcolm Crowe, Agent K, Toby Ziegler, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce all inna bar.
Have at!
Under some incredibly dense clouds of cigar smoke.
Playing especially cut-throat rounds of poker.
Hmm, the bald speechwriter is really taking the other three gents to school.
Funny, he doesn't seem very worried about the glares he's getting from the dead psychiatrist, the equally dead former Watcher, or the very-much-alive, pondering-his-neuralyzer Man in Black.
But then he's a pretty confident guy.
Yup, it's Malcolm Crowe, Agent K, Toby Ziegler, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce all inna bar.
Have at!
