milliways_bar | Entries tagged with waco kid

He hasn't been around in a long time. He probably won't be again.

Right now, he's looking out into the Void with a bottle of whiskey set beside him. It's exactly where you'd expect to find him if you know him well at all. But even on first glance, this clearly isn't the same old Jim. This Jim is missing something.

He pours himself another drink and raises a solemn toast to his reflection in the Window.

"Here's to you."

He'd be very eager to be bothered right now.

g00d_d0ggie

At this time of year, one expects to see figures in red and white carrying sacks full of gifts.

One does not expect them those figures to be nine-foot-tall combat droids. But that's exactly what lumbers into Milliways today. He walks up to Bar, beeps out an inquiry in Morse code, and gets a napkin in response. He then very carefully sets down his sack and places the parcels inside on the bartop one by one, and Bar in turn makes them vanish.

( for the various and sundry people mentioned in the tags )

[ooc: If you think your pup should have been on the list but wasn't, let me know and I'll add them to the tags. Happy Holidays!]

ikissdhimbck

The door opens to a golden sky, so thick with dust it looks like orange meringue.

The soft chnk of spurs precedes the cowgirl, collar turned up and hat low over her eyes. Once the door closes, she tips her hat back and takes a look around. And smiles.

As soon as she settles at the Bar, she's presented with gift after gift after gift after gift, along with a plate of Solstice sweets and a few gingerbread ... robots? She eyes everything with delight, surprised when she realizes how much time has passed. She wasn't expecting she'd be gone so long. She best start on the thank-you notes straight away.

But first, she does happen to have a few gifts of her own. She unshoulders her bag and leaves the tardy presents with Miss Bar. ( For Dr. Lecter, The Sandhu Family, Tommy Gavin, John Marston, The Waco Kid, Elrond, Remy, Ellen, Dixie, Clementine, Enzo & Dani, Pyrrha, Teja, Ratonhnhaké:ton, William Evans, etc. )

That done, she settles down to write her thank-yous, occasionally admiring the clay cat and pondering a name change to 'Queen of the Bandits'. No doubt she'll soon break into the sweets, though there's far too much to eat in one sitting. It's a good turn of luck that she feels inspired to share.

[ooc: I've missed all of the fun! Feel free to catch me up and link me to anything you'd like to have tagged, I'm happy to bounce around and see all of the shenanigans. ^__^ This is open throughout the weekend and perhaps longer. Hello again.]

52_dropoff

Well, he caught the flu. But that's a good thing. Since sometimes the best way to get to the bottom of something is to be part of it. Maybe he can figure out who is responsible for this germ. And, for that matter, the Bar. And if it connects to the Illuminati. Or the Masons. Or the CDC. Or Roger Goddell. Surely it's connected to the Super Bowl being played on the secret Masonic holiday of Groundhog Day.

"ACHOO!"

OK, one bad thing here. Sneezing with the mask on. But he's suffered worse things in the name of the truth. He'll deal with his symptoms later. In his room.

Strange. When did he get a room here?

No matter. Time to investigate as only he can.

[OOC: FYI, Charlie is his JLU self. For the lolz, of course.]

gavin62truck

January in Milliways for Tommy was pretty much non-existent. Aside from popping in for a smoke break, getting coffee to-go, or picking up surprise gifts (homemade cookies from Clementine which he generously and anonymously left on the firehouse kitchen table; peach-flavored lollipops from Pinkie Pie; and a thing that will not be named from the Waco Kid), he hasn't been here much.

And since Kate's been away in Texas since Christmas, he doesn't find much reason to hang around too long, either. If there's no note from her at the bar saying she's returned, he's not going to stay and sulk. Being at work provides a better distraction anyway.

But according to the calendar here, it's already been a month, and he's getting a little impatient. Patience has always been a virtue he never got the hang of. (Well. Along with the other virtues, of course.)

Anyway, Tommy's sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee, a cigarette, and a newspaper.

He hasn't noticed the sign.

[OOC: Tommy isn't infected with the IMDb flu yet, but feel freel to sneeze or cough on him/near him if your pup has it.]

waco_jim

As usual, gifts are laid out for those who might reasonably expect them.

( For Gordon )

( For Alyx )

( For Hope and Eli )

( For Kate )

( For Tommy )

( For John )

waco_jim

Jim is presently downing a glass of scotch in his left hand as he juggles a pair of multicolored balls with his right hand. Where did he find them? Who knows? He doesn't remember or care at this point.

He finishes the shot - his second of the day by this point.

"Funny," he says, "this whiskey must be a bit more potent than usual. This your doing, honey?"

A napkin appears on the counter.

Don't look at me.

"Huh. Maybe this is the day middle age finally creeps up on me. Well, more than it was doing before, anyway."

In the meantime, he keeps juggling and signals for another shot.

This is about to get very sloppy very quickly.

waco_jim

Jim awakens today as he usually does - at the crack of early afternoon. He's still blinking slowly as he ambles down the stairs for his two-o-clock bourbon.

He feels a tightness around his eyelids when he reaches the bottom - a set of mad scientist's goggles. He smiles as he remembers the date - and smiles again when he gets a good look at his hands.

"Black and white and everything. Madam Bar, you have truly outdone yourself this year."

acts_of_gord

When life hands you lemons, and you are not Cave Johnson, you make lemonade. When life takes one of your eyes and drops Halloween in your lap, you make... well, really bad metaphors. We were going somewhere with this, we promise.

Basically, Gordon decided to play to his newfound visual strengths for the recreation of Halloween going on at the Greenbrier and put together a pirate costume. Alyx decided to play along, and as for the twins, well... they make a very cute monkey and parrot.

Bar seems to approve of this, so when Gordon opens the door, there's no change whatsoever to any of their costumes. Which is just fine by him.

Come and say hi!

[OOC: Two muns, two pups, tag both or either!]

gone_byebye

The door opens on a chilly grey day in an alleyway in New York and closes behind a Ray wearing his winter dark bluegrey Ghostbusters duds. "Wow," he says, looking around the Bar. "What'd I miss?"

He doesn't stop for an answer, though. He heads for the Bar to drop off a note ("give a copy of this to anybody who asks about me, please?"), and then to the bulletin board to pin up the same thing for people who go there first.

( The note reads: )

Once the note is up he heads for the Bar, because this is going to be his last time here, and he'd like to make some use of that fact while he's saying goodbye to people.

[OOC: As I mentioned in the Back Room a few week ago, I'm retiring Ray. This is his goodbye post; it's open as long as people are finding it, basically.]

smiley_riley

The door bangs open with the force of someone slamming his entire body weight against it, and in stumbles a man, out of breath, disorientated, and spattered with blood head to toe.

Don't worry; none of it's his.

From the other side, the door led to a small bookshop shop with large windows. On the inside, it's a large bar, full of people. So sudden is the change of scenery that Shaun can't help but give pause as he stumbles gracelessly back to his feet.

"What?" he asks, all squeaky and out of breath.

And then there's the groaning behind him. Shaun spins round, realising that he'd left the door open. And now it's far too late to close it. They followed him in, and there's nothing left for it now but to leg it.

"Oh, SHIT," he hisses as he runs through the bar, knocking over chairs and leaping over tables as he goes, making a line straight for the back door. Meanwhile, through the front door comes the shambling horde of the mobile dead. You might want to pick up a blunt object right about now. Or a gun. Someone might want to get that door shut as well.

[ooc: Zombies! mini-plot begins now. Short explanation: Treat it as a party post and kill some NPC zombies! Long explanation: See this post. Happy Halloween!

ETA: This post is open indefinitely. Millitime magic applies to all resulting posts, but feel free to keep tagging in!]

king_gary

Have you ever got so drunk that when you woke up the next morning you were still a bit buzzed?

Milliways, meet Gary King. It's barely eleven o'clock in the morning, and he woke up from where he'd passed out on the sofa and wandered into the kitchen to fetch a beer.

This is not the kitchen, but Gary has barely even noticed. It wouldn't be the first time he sleep-walked somewhere daft. It is the first time he's ever stumbled through the door to this particular pan-dimensional watering hole, though.

At least he's mostly dressed. All the important bits and mildly-embarrassing tattoos are covered, at any rate.

forgoodorforawesome

A half-attentive observer could be forgiven for initially thinking Strong Bad and The Cheat have finally found a way to get the third On Point King inna bar. However, comma, once they paid the balance of the attention due, they'd realize that this big guy is wearing more and different-colored clothes, and has a head that doesn't basically grow beneath his shoulders.

"C'mon, big man!" Strong Bad is dragging Ralph by the hand with surprising if cartoonish vigor. "It's my nine-eth Milliversary! This calls for a karaoke-bration!"

Ralph looks a little nervous. "I don't know about this. There's a reason I don't go to DDR that often."

"You worry too much." And then, before anyone can stop them, they're up on the stage, and Strong Bad has picked up the mike.

( Gotta dance... )

When the song is done and the machine lets them go, they retreat to a table with sheepish expressions. Maybe you can catch them there.

[OOC: Three pups, one mun, tag anyone! Or just stare dumbfounded, whatevs! Open at least until it scrolls or

aberrantangels runs out of spoons!]

Current Mood: off the hook
Current Music: Irving Berlin as performed by Taco Ockerse

gavin62truck

Tommy, can you hear me?
Can you feel me near you?
Tommy, can you see me?
Can I help to cheer you?
Ooh, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy

Tommy, can you hear me?
Can you feel me near you?
Tommy, can you--

"Oh, for fuck's sake! This's like the fifth time I've heard this goddamn song already! Don't get me wrong, I love the Who and everything, but I swear to God, I hear this shit one more time and I will break something again."

One cranky off-duty fireman trying to eat his sandwich in peace. And failing.

(He would never connect almost tripping on a damn stick to hearing music on an endless loop. Who would?)

waco_jim

It doesn't take Jim long to notice it. Only about halfway into his second glass of whiskey.

An oddly catchy little ditty fills the air around him. Why, it's positively glamtastic. This is what the kids were listening to about when the movie came out, wasn't it? He's not sure if he remembers. But it's clearly not coming out of any speakers.

"Huh. A soundtrack. That's never happened in here before."

He shrugs it off and keeps drinking.

ikissdhimbck

[OOM sorta:

My wounds are not for you to see
Although I wish you knew
Without the grief that hollows me
What holds me back from you

]

Kate slowly stirs cream into her coffee.

Over the past few weeks, she's been alternating time out in Texas with a few nights spent here and there in the bar. Well, to be specific, nights spent in the stables. Hay's sticking out of her messy braid.

This morning she looks tired, rough around the edges, and clearly nursing a hangover. She's not as sour as she's been, but she might be a little subdued. Or, hell, she might kiss you if you can give her a good hangover cure.

[ooc: Linktext for the OOM taken from here. Timed to this morning, and if anyone wants to play with catching her sleeping out in the stables, I certainly won't complain. Otherwise, come join her at the Bar for breakfast. Open indefinitely. ^__^]

gavin62truck

Tommy steps through the door; hesitates when he realizes this isn't his bedroom; mutters "Screw it" under his breath and continues on in.

He may be off duty today, but apparently Bar doesn't think so, because as soon as he approaches her, a napkin pops up bearing a message written in green: Éirinn go Brách. Enjoy your bartending shift.

Tommy barely has time to be annoyed before a book with an accompanying note from Kate appears.

For a moment, he stares at the handwriting, the sentiment that recalls his dad's parting anecdote when she visited his world, his home. He then flips through the volume, hearing in his head the way she teased him for not reading more.

Now he's just confused. Why the hell would she even give him a gift after what happened?

(No jar of spiced peaches either.)

(Should he leave something for her in return?)

(Is she still thinking about him?)

With a grumbling sigh, Tommy goes behind the bar and sets up the specials on the board.

St. Patrick's Day Happy Hour

Guinness (Irish dry stout a.k.a. beer)
Bushmills (Irish whiskey)
Jameson ( " " )
Connemara ( " " )
Michael Collins ( " " )
Feckin Irish Whiskey (duh)
Baileys Irish Cream (sort of like a whiskey milkshake)
Green Beer (alcoholic & non-alcoholic) also available

There's a conscientious pause before he mutters "Screw it" again and adds his customary discount at the bottom:

Ladies! Get 50% off any drink if you kiss the bartender -- he's Irish!

That being done, he leans back against the rear counter, ignoring the temptation of the liquor that surrounds him, and cracking open the Mark Twain novel, he actually starts to read it.

[OOC: Open all night. Or until it scrolls. Or forever, really.]

adamantiumloner

Logan.

Stool at the end of the bar.

Bottle of Jack and a shot glass.

Cigar.

Cowboy hat.

vance_prime

Alyx Vance, in a booth, taking apart her pistol and cleaning it.

No particular reason; the gun just needed cleaning and she'd rather do it here than at home where tiny hands could get a hold of the parts.

bornuntotrouble

John really wasn't expecting anything in the way of gifts when he popped into Milliways this afternoon. But a note from Jim, along with a curious-looking vest, is a pleasant surprise.

He writes Jim a quick thank-you note, then gives it to Bar before fiddling with the vest. It slips over his head easily enough, and he pokes his arms through the respective holes before -

- good God is this thing heavy.

One cowboy by the Bar in a digicammie IOTV.

Talk about anachronisms, right?

waco_jim

Jim has left a few gifts for those who might reasonably expect to receive them.

( For Gordon )

( For Alyx )

( For Hope and Eli )

( For Kate )

( For John )

no_mere_marble

Contrary to popular belief, there is snow in the higher mountains of Greece and Asia Minor in winter.

When Antinoos came in from sweltering Thebes tonight and found snow outside, he got himself warm clothes like a Greek hunter or Roman soldier in winter would wear, and ran right outside. He had missed snow!

Now he's out there, enjoying the snow and the cold, and acting, for once, exactly as young as he is. After a while, he finds that he can't resist the idea of surprising some poor unfortunate (he's outside, so it's no violence, right), and when a somewhat small and scruffy fellow comes outside, he gets a soft, large snowball right in the face, from a safe position twenty yards away, in the bushes.

Ned Poins, however, is well versed with ambushes, so he spots soon where the attack came from, and gathers snow to retaliate, running towards the shrubbery -- and so, the battle is joined, and soon, there is a big white-and-brown dog yelping excitedly, and a big, blond Scotsman grinning widely and waiting to decide which side to take.

However, when you come outside today, you might get caught in the crossfire; or perhaps you'd like to join the battle just for the fun of it?

[[OOC: Party post -- tag in, then splat somebody else! Have at! Open until the weekend ends. Snowball fight as per this post.]]
[[ETA: Gone to bed now -- please threadhop and have the snowball fight among yourselves! Thanks!]]

k_in_black

Agent K is at the bar, enjoying a glass of Eli Lockhart's finest bourbon, and minding his own business until somebody decides to help him mind it.

[And unless he gets Milli-timed into this disaster in the making.]

feels

It's not like he's ever coming back to Tatooine. The speeder is better off where it is, in the hands of a trader who can get a lot more than two thousand credits for it. Luke supposes the guy felt sorry for him, he bargained to a little over the minimum price they'll need to get out of this system and toward the one Ben wants to go to. Alderaan. Where that princess in the holo message is from. He pauses outside hanger 19 to take one last look around the space port, then steps through the doorway to meet Ben and the pilot they just hired.

Except ... this is not a hanger bay. Or the cantina they slipped out of earlier. The sandy haired kid stares around at the odd decorations while the door swings shut behind him.

Milliways is now +1 a future Jedi master, even if he doesn't know it yet.

acts_of_gord

Gordon's been recovering in the Greenbrier's infirmary for quite some time now. It's not that bad a place. A little dull sometimes, but it's not too bad. It's the therapy afterwards that's the problem. They've had him getting up to walk around regularly. Never very far, just enough to keep him flexible and avoid frustration. The problem with that is how many people there are in the Greenbrier who want to see him and thank him, or congratulate him, or...

Well. You get the idea.

Gordon tries, he really does, but being treated with the kind of nearly religious awe and gratitude the Resistance people have been directing at him is draining. When he got to the end of a nearby hallway, he decided he'd have a better chance of making it back to the infirmary if he took a moment to rest first. So what if that rest happened to be taken at the Bar instead?

One paler-than-usual, thinner-than-usual physicist in a lab coat (they didn't have hospital gowns, and he wouldn't have worn one even if they did), crowbar shoved through his belt and much of the right side of his head bandaged up, settling in at a table with his back to the wall.

It's been a long few days, but at least he can rely on this place.