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[Nov. 8th, 2009|06:32 pm] |
Cal was right about coming unBound as soon as Halloween was over, and he's ignored a Door or two in the couple of days since he got home.
This one, though, he accepts - after poking his head in cautiously to make sure that all is normal.
(Well. Milliways normal.)
When he gets to the Bar to order his customary raktajino, it appears before he can speak, along with a becandled cupcake and a note:
This is the day you wanted me to save this for, right?
Surprised, Cal glances at the calendar, then smiles.
"Right," he says. "Thank you."
November eighth has passed back home, but it seemed more appropriate to save any celebration of his new birthday for Milliways. He died on his old birthday, and there are other reasons as well why it isn't a date he wants to acknowledge anymore. A year ago today, he came back to life, and it seems a much more auspicious anniversary to him.
[OOC: Also car keys bait for Joan Holloway. Open till it scrolls.] |
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[Nov. 8th, 2009|06:04 pm] |
Happy hour is up and running.
Don't worry, Applegate may be the Devil, but your pups' drinks are safe. ;)
Open until ten PM EST, with a strongly pro-threadhopping policy. |
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| Happy hour! |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|05:50 pm] |
At the first note, Applegate raises a derisive eyebrow.
"My dear, I don't work for free."
At the second note - he pauses.
". . . Ah. Yes. Well, if you put it that way."
Who knew a piece of wood could be so persuasive?
Specials
Apple Martini
Apple Brandy Highball
Snake in the Grass
Subtlety is only one of Applegate's strong points when it has to be.
tinytag: applegate
[OOC: Also functioning as car keys bait for Jo Harvelle. To everyone else, this is open to new tags until ten PM EST.] |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|02:00 pm] |
There's a Guardian on his hands and knees on the floor in front of the fireplace.
:: C'mon, Mairi, crawl to daddy... ::
:: Da! Da! :: The turquoise baby soars toward Bob; he gently pushes her back.
:: No, Mairi, don't fly, crawl. Come on, you can do it... ::
This process repeats several times. The baby is becoming increasingly agitated.
[Car Keys bait for Carla Espinosa, but open to all.] |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|10:14 pm] |
Guppy has a huge pile of books on the table, which he is going through looking for any references to hallucinogenic strains of flu. He appears to have been doing this for several hours.
His clinic sign is still up on the table.
Free Walk-in clinic
The doctor is in
FREE FLU REMEDIES AVAILABLE
If you are experiencing flu-like symptoms please speak to an infirmary staff member and avoid contact with old, weak or pregnant patrons.
He's working on a note for the infirmary staff, but is trying to get information on what they're dealing with first. The volume of Unusual illnesses of 24th century Earth he's going through is currently not yielding anything of any help.
[tinytag: IMDb Flu] |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|03:05 pm] |
Doctor Cullen is scribbling at a table. As much scribbling as ever he does - Carlisle's handwriting has never failed to have a polite and articulated lilt to it, even in the endless signatures on endless prescription pages and charts at the hospital.
As far as what he's scribbling on, it's...probably boring. But medical!
Stop by and teach Carlisle a hobby. Really - he needs it. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|07:31 pm] |
The door opens, and Donovan walks in, tired. He smiles broadly when he sees the bar, kicks the door shut, sits on a bar stool, and orders coffee and tequila.
Yes, both at once! |
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| Note on the public notice board |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|06:30 pm] |
At some stage today, a mottled waitrat appears and hangs up a note from Teja.
As concerns work in the forge:
If you have commissioned a piece of metalwork, that shall be delayed for awhile as I have taken cold, with a sickness men from the future call 'floo'. I am sorry for the longer wait.
If any need to speak to me urgently, you may come up to my room, which is numbered DLII, or 552; a rat shall open my door to you; or you might give a note to one of the rats to take to me, if you are a mortal of the human kind, that may take sick with that catching 'floo'; I take it is harmless to the undead, alien, or numinous, and all that are not fully human.-
- Teja, son of Tagila
If anybody does go up to Teja's room, a rat -- either pale Phelim, black Oonagh, or mottled Thady -- will open the door, and gesture, bowing, to the dozing Goth and cat by the small fireplace that the room boasts.
Waking them is up to visitors themselves!
[[tinytag: IMDb flu; OOC: If anybody needs to talk to Teja about something, he'll be there behind the link, but he might call your pup by the wrong name!]] |
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[Nov. 8th, 2009|09:49 pm] |
Edward. Text books. Blank, distracted stare.
Feel free to disrupt his sparkly brooding. |
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[Nov. 8th, 2009|03:46 am] |
There's a man working at the punching bag, every hit sounding a loud bang. He's working fast; he doesn't stop, doesn't let up, doesn't seem to want to do anything but act (doesn't seem to want to stop to think).
Mahone almost hadn't believed his son was dead.
He almost hadn't believed his son was dead until he'd begged and begged and Lang had finally sent him the autopsy report. (A distance away from him, the report and accompanying photos are in a folder on the ground.)
There are very few things he wants out of life at the immediate moment, and one of them is to stop for long enough for any thought to enter back into his head.
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[Nov. 7th, 2009|11:58 pm] |
There's a panel in the bar's front wall that wasn't there a second ago. Looks like it's about where the front door usually goes and--hang on, it's just swished open.
"Deck... one," says a bemused Sariel Rager from just inside the doorway. "Now the bar is in the turbolift?"
A minute or two later, there's a woman in uniform in a booth nearish the trilobite tank, cup of tea in hand. It's not dereliction of duty if you literally step away between moments while en route to the bridge, is it?
Sariel's still not sure about that one, to be honest.
((OOC: Car keys bait for Martha Jones, but open to everybody. Doomed to bouts of sporadic slowtime as well, I'm afraid.))
((Tiny angelic tag: Connor)) |
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[Nov. 8th, 2009|12:49 am] |
From what she can tell, it looks like there's something going around - and she is not about to catch it any time soon.
She's sitting down on one end of the bar, keeping an eye on anyone who so much as coughs.
She's only appearing downstairs to order a bottle, and then she'll be returning to her room to enjoy it - most likely alone. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|10:46 pm] |
Hallowe'en is well and truly over, and Tom has not caught any strange illness, so tonight when he walks into the bar from the House of Arch painting in his usual suit robes, they stay charcoal gray and well-tailored. This is not a bad thing. Not at all. Especially since he has other matters on his mind.
He has a parchment letter in his hand, delivered by owl post to his box at the Diagon Alley station, and picked up today. He receives them every now and again, these letters. Ramblings of the mad, he has no doubt, but worrisome enough to dispose of them here.
A scotch would be most welcome about now. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|10:00 pm] |
X slips into the bar through the back door, her hair and clothes slightly damp. Along with soup and a sandwich for dinner, Bar provides some dry clothes.
Any and all attempts to return them are denied, and eventually X heads for the bathrooms, emerging a few minutes later in jeans, a black tank top, and a light gray button-down.
Then she settles down at a corner table to eat. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|09:12 pm] |
The plague that's going around will catch up to Cata eventually, but now is not that time.
For now, she's at a table, dividing her time between cleaning her crossbow and cleaning her rifle. It's been some time since she gave the rifle that sort of attention, and it goes better when she does something else alongside it.
She wouldn't necessarily be averse to conversation, though. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|09:07 pm] |
Cy is pouring over schematics and blueprints. For himself. He's really surprised to find that he really does have an air filtration system. So he figures it would be a good idea to see if there are any other surprises lurking in his cybernetics.
He's also eating a big bowl of popcorn, because studying schematics is really entertaining. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|08:44 pm] |
Mal's all dirty.
Inara...well, nobody comes out of a Firefly under serious renovations without getting some dirt under their fingernails, but for the most part Inara seems pretty coiffed as always as the pair come out of the Milliways garage.
Mal leads Inara to the couch, waiting for a rat to notice two potential customers.
He's getting lazy in his old age.
[ooc: Tag one or the other or both.] |
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