Bela's had a more or less successful week. She's completed a few dull jobs (okay, the one with the mummy hand was fairly exciting) for long-standing clients. She made a good deal of money, and she tweaked her stock investments and made a shitload more. But she hasn't gotten any further with her little demon problem than she was months ago.

She's at a table tonight, picking at a slice of chocolate cake. Her Lemon Drop is a well-deserved one.

ooc: Bela Talbot

[OOM:Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Millitimed to the night of 06-18. Warnings for violence.]

A woman enters on horseback.

Both horse and rider look trail-worn and exhausted, though the woman is slightly more worse for wear. There are buttons missing from her blouse, and dark bruises forming around her neck and up the sides of her face.

She looks around the bar almost suspiciously before she clucks a quiet command to her mount, who obediently follows her lead to the backdoor.


OOC: Catch her inside or out, with horse or without horse, the mun is easy as pie (mmm, piiiie) and here for a while.

[tiny!tag: Kissin' Kate Barlow]

The summer drags on, and so do Em's hopes.

By the time the door to Milliways finally shows up, she's about halfway finished with her summer job and already looking for some kind of release. There's only so much she can take before screaming kids, creaking rides and the sound of Falco's "Rock Me Amadeus" is enough to make her slam her head into a table over and over.

She ambles up to the bar, hops up on a stool, and orders a beer.

Her aim tonight is to drink herself into a sweet oblivion. But she's not opposed to company while she does so.

[tiny tag: em lewin]

[OOC: OOM: that boom boom pow]

There was some barking, and then a Jack Russell mix scampered into the bar. Well ahead of his human who had opened the Front Door to walk in.

"Sparrow! Here!" Kate called as she ran in after him. The terrier skidded back to her, tail wagging a mile a second frantically. He followed after her to the bar, where a chew treat appeared for him, and a plate of barbecue chicken for her with potato salad that had a little American flag on a toothpick sticking out of it. There was also a small garden salad as a side as well. Plus, a watermelon smoothie drink.

"Oh, well, happy Fourth to you too, Bar."

[oom: Baby steps.]

Guppy is sitting near the trilobite tank, trying to remove a blue foam helmet from Alexander's head.

Which sounds easy, right? Only he can't work seem to get around the baby proof lock.

Also, for anyone who is paying attention, he appears to have a visible red mark in the middle of his hair, which he keeps scratching at.

Felix arrives, and the first thing he notices is that there are a lot of a particular flag around.

As a consequence, he's moved out of the doorway to stare around in puzzlement.

[OOC: Open all the way down!]

Carlotta is outside, shooting arrows into the target in an angry manner.

It's been a long time since she's really flown off the handle to the point of inflicting pain on the subject, but she feels it was well and truly deserved today.

She gets six straight bulls' eyes in a row, but it doesn't seem to improve her mood much.

[tinytag: Carlotta Brown]

It's been a while since Teddy's been in.

Teddy slides a hand through his hair as he enters, turning it bright red and adjusting his facial structure so that he has wider, softer features. It's a good disguise, he thinks - he doesn't want to risk the off chance that one of the other candidates taking the Auror training tests might come here. He really doesn't want to dissect how the first few tests went, at the moment.

"Steak, rare," he mumbles once he gets to the Bar. Bar obliges, and he heads over to a booth to start poking at the steak.

Lorne really just wanted a beer today when he came in, but it seems Bar remembers his preferences from last year, so instead of a simple pint of Mac and Jack, he's given a bottle of Sam Adams and a plate full of picnic-style goodness (beer brats, potato salad, watermelon, something made from Jell-o, apple pie, etc.), which is really more a platter than a plate and definitely more than Lorne will be able to eat on his own.

"Happy 4th of July to you too, sweetheart," he murmurs, and takes his oversized feast to a nearby table.




tiny, overfed!tag: Evan Lorne


[ooc: I'll be running off for 4th of July festivities of my own shortly, but the EP will be open until Lorne's next.]

Jane was simply coming inside with some flowers when she found herself in the Bar so she goes to Bar to set her basket down and find some iced tea. When Bar gives her tea and a small American flag along with a copy of a newspaper from Philadelphia she sighs,

"Yes, I do know that they received their independence and its all very well for them but I truly do not need their flag with my tea."

A few cookies that look like fireworks appear instead and Jane smiles with exasperation,

"Thank you."

Tiny tag: Jane Austen

'Hey, how's your job?'

'How do you think? It's a pain in the ass. The guy swears he had nothing to do with it, it looks bad, if I was a cop I'd arrest him...'

So went the conversation he'd just finished having with Sam. Which was all of two hours after he left this place the last time, which is why he spreads his arms and says to the room at large;

'No, this is a pain in the ass.'

He turns to leave right away - he has things to do - and the door won't open. It doesn't disappear but it won't budge either.

'...crap.'

Looks like the Landlord's trying to tell you something, Michael.


[Tiny burned!tag: Michael Westen, Jane Austen, Fiona Glenanne]

[OOC: As before, please read this at some point if you've tagged/are thinking of tagging.]

What could be more fun and more American on the Fourth of July than ice cream and fireworks?

Combining them, of course!

Enter one '60s-era tricolored mutant whose look can best be described as 'maniacal ice cream man,' but then aren't they all, a bit? (It's all the sugar and brain-freeze.) He is thankfully? without his trio of catsuit-clad, gun-toting henchwomen today, but he does have a big box full of normal ice cream, special ice cream, and fireworks, which he carries through the bar and outside.

Dig that crazy ice cream man.

Man, it's like--like if you look hard enough, you can see all the way to the end of the universe. It's so far out.

Extremely botherable, but caution is advised.

[tinytags: the obligatory multifacet][here sporadically on Saturday, but the post is open through Sunday and all tags will be answered! ooc explanation is here]

Sarah hasn't done something like this since before her son was born. She's at a table, head down on it near her arm and there's a tape recorder in front of her. It's paused for the most part. If only because she'd been leaving messages. Though she's not too entirely sure why she's doing it. Bar has provided her with hot tea but it's long since gone cold. Her thoughts are... erratic at best. So she's not really paying attention to her surroundings. Not yet anyway.




[Tiny Tag: Sarah J. Connor]

[OOM: Big damn hero.]

[tiny tag: Tommy Gavin]

Jason is sitting downstairs, staring at his empty plate. He's been clean for just about three weeks now, and he thinks he's doing better. He's having less days where he doesn't want to leave his room, even if he still dreams about getting high. But he's doing better.

The dream catcher has been set aside tonight, and while Nathaniel spends time with Asher he excuses himself from his other friends. He doesn't feel like doing anything tonight.

No...that's not true.

Seeing Nathaniel walk off with Asher prompted a longing that surprised him: he wants to go home. He wants to be Jean Claude's pomme again. He's technically clean, so Jean Claude would probably take him back, but...



...would things still be the same? Would he be Jean Claude's pomme de sang and sometimes confidant, or would he in essence be just another employee of JCCorp? Was that all he ever was?

He pushes away from the table; he can't wait anymore. Truth is, he misses the master vampire. He leaves a quick note explaining to Nathaniel that he'd gone home and to let Yri and Liz know he was ok, then comes back downstairs, pausing at the front door.

He takes a calming breath and pushes through the door, off to try and clear things up with Jean Claude.

OOM:

When the job goes wrong, you go back to the beginning...

And then, whether you like it or not, you go where you have to be.

[Welcome to Half-Life 2, Episode 3, Valve 0. Tinytags: Gordon Freeman, Alyx Vance, Barney Calhoun, Chell Johnson, Adrian Shephard, Dr. Magnusson, D0G.]

Tom stops in for a scotch, as he has been known to do. He sits down in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He won't be in for long; there are always things to keep him busy in the House of Arch. He can spare a few minutes, though.

Tiny tag: Weyland

It's not, Fakir thinks, that he's a coward. He hasn't carried out his plan for saving Mytho yet because he doesn't know enough. He just needs more practice, that's all.

That's why Fakir's outside, running through progressions of guards and attacks with his practice sword. Feel free to find him there.

The front door opens, and the twang of a guitar can be heard faintly in the room beyond.

A blond-haired man in a t-shirt and jeans walks in, a full mop bucket in his arms. He pauses as he walks in, looking over the bucket and then dropping it, spilling dirty water all over the floor.

"Oh dear god. I never expected to see this place again."

Milliways, please welcome back one Mark Cohen.

Petra is in the bar wearing her Lara costume. This includes a full length spaghetti-strap dress, curled hair and makeup. No weapons are in sight and she is eating, careful not to spill on her new clothing.

[ OOM: Home is where the heart is. ]

Weyland has taken up residence in Scarlet's usual booth this evening, enjoying a beer while he attempts to puzzle out some barely intelligible runes on an extremely worn stone. (Best not to ask why, really.)

He also has a sign on the table, but it's not the same as hers.

Commissions accepted
Dreams - Nightmares
Recruits welcome

Extremely botherable.

[tinytags: weyland][open all weekend]

Somewhere out there, just at the edge of the most delicately tuned sensors' perception, there are signals being traded that Ironhide can't quite read. Some of them are Autobot signals, he's sure of that. Some of them are Decepticon ones, of that he's even more sure. The fact is that he can't read any of them. It's like spending a week with someone whispering in your ear just loudly enough to hear, but not to understand; it makes him cranky.

Granted, everything makes him cranky. But this is extra cranky. And that's why there's an Autobot weapons master out behind the Bar, out past the firing range, piling a veritable pyramid of boulders and large stones in the center of a blast crater. Best thing you can do for a bad mood is take it out on someone who deserves it, but when you can't find someone deserving, you should at least practice it away.



[tinytag: Fiona Glennane]

I'm rollin' thunder, pourin' rain...


OOM: I'm comin' on like a hurricane...

[OOM: Jason and Nathaniel are up early to do their own method of working out up in the Delicate Flowers' nightclub.]

[OOM: The park ranger at Mount Saint Hilary may never be the same again... but at least the boys at the Dirty Shame Saloon are happily hungover afterwards. ]

[Little bugger bastard tag: Darryl 'Mother' Roskow]