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[Dec. 7th, 2009|08:58 am] |
[Out of Milliways:
"According to sensors, you have arrived 202.3 years behind schedule. "
"I'm Betty! I live here on Tranquility Lane. Want to play a game?"
"I have surprised myself. I find Tranquility Lane... comforting."
"Do you REALIZE what you've DONE?"
Spoilers like whoa for Fallout 3.]
The door opens on a blaze of light and Ellen, wearing only a blue and gold Vault-Tec jumpsuit, steps through. It's not her usual one, having no armor or reinforcement of any kind and bearing the number '112' across the back instead of '101'. Come to think of it, that in itself is fairly unusual, since the number is visible instead of being hidden by a backpack or holstered rifle of some kind.
She doesn't seem to care, though. At least, not beyond shivering in it as she heads over to the Bar and requests a mug of Ovaltine in a voice almost too quiet to hear. From there it's a straight line to one of the chairs by the fire, where she can huddle up and not pay any attention to things going on around her- or at least try not to. Some days the world bites down harder than others, and today, well, it really, really bit. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 7th, 2009|07:42 am] |
For once, Jordan is not working in Milliways.
You see, she was out of coffee back home, so a trip into the Bar was a need. We have an Evil Genius, in a red silk short robe and slippers, lounging near the fireplace.
Hmm, coffee.
[ Jordan Kennedy ] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 7th, 2009|03:03 am] |
(OOMs: Having disappeared from Milliways some time ago, Sunshine searches the void to find her vampire. She finds more than she bargained for.)
A bruised, battered and exhausted Sunshine stumbles into the bar wearing nothing but a large black shirt that comes down nearly to her knees and a golden necklet, smelling of vampire and sex.
Her fury from earlier has long faded. Embarrassment sets in quickly now, with a quickly-muffled shriek and many curses.
(ooc: Warnings for brief adult situations in that third link/second OOM. Open to all, forever, but with the warning that Sunshine is not happy right now, and will likely be rather abrasive, or evasive, depending on the person and situation.
ETA: Mun is heading to bed. Will respond to any other tags tomorrow. <3) |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 6th, 2009|06:49 pm] |
Joan's sitting at the bar tonight in an almost-off-the-shoulder black silk dress and jewelry that appears to be worth much more than it actually is. (There's only so much a girl can afford on a office manager's salary, after all.)
There's a drink resting in front of her, but so far tonight, she hasn't touched it.
Instead, she's staring off into space, trying to wrap her mind around the evening's events - and Carol's words, still echoing in her head (just think of me as a boy, Joanie).
She finally takes a sip of her drink.
Actually, it's more than a sip, but who's really watching?
[ tiny tag: joan holloway ] |
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| Happy Hour |
[Dec. 6th, 2009|03:07 pm] |
John is beaming when he comes into the bar today.
He’s also carrying a box of cigars, and when he steps up to the bar, he’s greeted with a napkin that reads:
Congratulations!
After he gives his thanks for the message, he’s given another napkin to which he heartily replies. “Of course, I’d be delighted. Could I…get another box of cigars as well?”
Armed with both boxes, he steps behind the counter and flips through the drinks book before posting the specials.
Specials
Baby Eskimo
Baby Guinness
Johnny Cat
Free cigars all around!
[ooc: No new threads, please. Slowtime/fade on existing threads.] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 6th, 2009|09:42 pm] |
[oom: The morning after the rum.]
Guppy, looking rather subdued and still slightly hung over, settles with a cardboard box at a table. Inside are the smashed remains of ten garden gnomes, and a tube of superglue.
He starts piecing together the first gnome. If he does a really good job, he might be able to get out of the doghouse at home. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 6th, 2009|04:54 pm] |
There is a Connor by the fireplace.
He might be sleeping, or just thinking about something.
Care to find out?
[ Connor, Freakangels ] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 6th, 2009|12:32 pm] |
[OOM: In Provence:
[ooc: Timed to after this thread, before Doc's wake.] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 6th, 2009|12:06 am] |
Gus wanders over to the fire place with his ritualistic cup of coffee in one hand, and a text book in the other. The title on the cover reads:
PHYSICS OF THE IMPOSSIBLE: A SCIENTIFIC EXPLORATION INTO THE WORLD OF PHASERS, FORCE FIELDS, TELEPORTATION, AND TIME TRAVEL
Okay, so it's not the sort of text book you'd get from a college course. Gus sets his coffee down on one of the tables and settles into one of the chairs. As he begins to tackle PART I: CLASS I IMPOSSIBILITIES, he begins to realise that he should have brought a biro and a notebook with him.
[Tiny!Tag: Jordan Kennedy] |
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| Plays With Fire |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|11:06 pm] |
The coals from the bonfire aren't even cold yet, and Fiona's still uneasy. Wakes always make her feel like she should go home, see her ma, and her brothers. But she can't go back to Dublin, not without a completely new identity. And even then, it's just not feasible.
She tried working the heavy bag for awhile, and even wearing Ramon out hadn't taken the edge off. She'd left him napping and headed down to the bar. They were out of tequila, and that would never do.
"Bar, can I get two more bottles of your Patrón Silver and two the Tres Generaciones?"
Bar obliges with four bottles and two shot glasses.
"Oh if you insist."
[ooc: plotlocked, thank you! ] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|11:37 pm] |
Cavilo's on top of the world right now.
That's almost literal; she's in synchronous orbit around a highly industrialized planet with a single government, a primitive but enthusiastic form of star travel, and an equally primitive but enthusiastic smuggling trade. There's all kinds of potentially lucrative opportunities here for a smart woman with a clever brain, a newly acquired ship, and all the information she needs at her fingertips.
She's not expecting to step into Milliways when she leaves the ship's cockpit for the sleeping berth, but the look of brief startlement on her face morphs almost at once into a look of well, why not?, and she saunters toward the bar. |
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| ...and he'd thought the sheep were trouble |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|10:41 pm] |
The problem with having a country whose most desirable export was it's wool was the animals that wool came from.
Of course, as part of the blend involved sheep, he'd had more than a few troubles with the various sheep farmers, their land and boundaries, and at least three problems just this season to do with specific taxes that needed to be corrected on lanolin production.
...this year, of course, was the year that the goat farmers started to cause trouble.
And it was for that reason that Garion decided to try the door that he'd ignored for some months as one "crisis" after another had taken up what time he had to give when he wasn't being a father. To be fair, it was his advisers that would call them that, as he was of a mind that anything which didn't imperil all of existence was merely "a bother", but it all took up daylight.
Not tonight, though. No, tonight, he was in for a chocolate milkshake and Nothing To Do With Farm Animals. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|08:19 pm] |
Rem sat reading an old leather bound book. There is no name on the spine, just the numbers used for placing it in the library.
Her table was covered in snacks and a wooden chess set. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|08:53 pm] |
Having established--after a long, mildly painful discussion with the Bar--a method of determining whether his timeline's gone back to normal or not, Tavi is sitting in a booth with a mug of hot chocolate and a bowl of marshmallows, as well as a few papers. (Some habits never get broken.)
He also has a shallow box, filled with sand which has--somehow--formed itself into a map which he seems to be studying. Or possibly he's more distracted by the box of Legos the Bar has decided to provide him with, and the small Lego house it's placed squarely in the middle of where he's trying to work. And thus there is a tall Roman guy with a sword and a box of brightly colored blocks in a booth near the fire.
He just groans and drops his head to the table. "Why me?" he mutters.
[open till it falls off the front--longer if I say so.] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|04:14 pm] |
One thing he friggin' HATES about fights is that his suit and shirt get all messed up.
HEY. No, wait, he could give a fuck about that. What he hates is gettin' his friggin' ass kicked by some random monster and it doesn't happen real often, but every now and then, just...
Actually, the worst part of all is makin' a friggin' entrance slidin' in on his ass. He ain't got much of an image, but what little he has, he kinda likes to protect. At least a little. After he's done slidin' across the floor of the bar, he stands up like he meant to do it that way. Tugs down his jacket, starts smoothin' out his shirt before he remembers he never ironed the thing a day in his life, tosses back his hair, and lets go of the knife he's been holding onto in his pocket hard enough to leave fingerprints on it. He's learned a couple valuable lessons in his life, and one of them goes like this: when you're gettin' your ass handed to you by the enemy, get the fuck out of the fight.
[tag: lacey thornfield] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|07:08 pm] |
Enzo looks excited and satisfied as he enters Milliways this evening. He has just begun his third... let's go with 'year' at the Academy. He's already got the fundamentals of theory and basic combat under his belt; this is where the training picks up.
See sprite for details. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|10:04 pm] |
Carlotta has more or less recovered from the flu, apart from the point where she tried to write her English essay to pass the time and wrote Tracy as her name on it.
She's in the main bar now, rewriting it to put her own name on. Which is tedious to say the least. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2009|01:44 pm] |
When Kaidan finds Milliways in place of the ship's lift system, he's struck with sudden insparation, and, after a quick word with the bar, spends the next few hours hours traveling up and down the stairs with armloads of things.
Anyone want to see what he's up to? |
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shocked and embarrassed