nannypoppins' Friends

Tom and Ingress are in the bar dropping off a variety of Christmas presents for friends. They are wonderful presents. Small, thoughtful, and just what the recipient wanted, because the House of Arch family is thoughtful that way. In her tradition of homemade gifts, Ingress has made painted wooden ornaments with wintry symbols of them. They are all in shades of blue.

Before they leave for the House, she hands something to Tom and whispers in his ear. He grins and points his wand at the green and red bundle, and then at a rafter above. Ingress giggles, and Tom kisses her on the cheek.

A cheery bundle of mistletoe is now hanging from that rafter. Should anyone choose to notice it, they can do with it as they will.

Right before he steps through the painting, Tom points his wand at the Festivus Pole. A sprig of mistletoe now perches atop the pole. He snickers and disappears.

OOC: There is no compulsion, no magic, no nothin' involved. This is just a sprig of festive mistletoe! Now make with the smooches. :-P

And kiss the Pole! Bing says so!

"Sure I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be sure?," asks Mike who is seated next to bar wearing the most unlikely of maternity shirts.

"Nope. I totally asked."

"Seriously! I did! Both of them, and he said it was fine."

"Yes. Fine."

"Yes for the both of us."

He sighs.
"Okay...yes, for all three of us."

"Yes. Without a doubt in my mind. I can't go around having all of the fun, now can I?"

"I knew you'd see it my way. Merry Christmas, my MapleBaby."

For a moment nothing near Bar moves. The mental link quiets, and then with the slight imperceptable shift that only the most adept at magic could sense, it's over.
Wobbly the pregnant man with the sandy-hair gets to his feet. That ever-present smile of his is soft and warm. He bows low and presses a kiss to Bar's top.

A napkin appears. After a moment or two's hesitation a bright orange scrawl appears.

I'll have you know I worked long and hard to get the muscle memory down for knitting, and fully expect a Doctor Who scarf for my troubles. Or possibly a House Hufflepuff one.

The man grins and crosses his heart in a promise. With his free hand protectively stationed over his swollen belly, the sandy-haired man takes his leave, heading down the staff hallway towards the rocking chair by the fire that's been prepared for him.

A cup of coffee keeps Beckett company in the bar tonight, and - is that paperwork?

She may or may not be discreetly trying to hide the last-minute reports she's attempting to finish and file before the holidays.

After that, she's going to tackle the bag filled with unwrapped presents - and just keep her fingers crossed that none of their recipients run into her before they're wrapped up and hidden away.

Right now, though, she stands to stretch her legs, idly winding her arms over her head. If she happens to jostle anyone, it's entirely accidental.

[ ooc note: almost insta-slowtime on threads, but I will get to any and all potential tags after sleep. ]

[OOM: Squirrel tries to sort out his thoughts in the aftermath of the attack on Coreen, but the day is saved by his Golden Age self.]

So it is that the Flying Squirrel who returns to the bar from the outside door is about a hundred and fifty pounds lighter, a lot more Texan, normal non-mutant human as far as anyone can see, and dressed in his USAAF lieutenant's uniform. ~~but he still bears a suspicious resemblance to Damon Albarn~~

Joe grins lazily as he glances around the bar. Oh, he could get used to this. He'd heard, but he hadn't seen--

First things first. He hasn't had a good stiff drink in sixty-five years. Up to the bar he goes, taking his hat off on the way.

Highly botherable.

[open until it scrolls!]

Joan hasn't been back in the bar since the attack happened.

Harry's been pretty insistent about keeping an eye on her, but what with the amount of snow on the ground in Twin Peaks, she hasn't been able to go anywhere anyway. Bar's kept the door open for her - likely, Joan thinks, because she either has a soft spot for them or feels bad about the situation. (She wonders if referring to the Bar having feelings means she's still not at her best.)

She hasn't been back to work, either. It isn't a problem; she'd made sure to call in and use the appropriate vacation time in advance, but now all it's doing is contributing to the restlessness of one curvy redhead.

She takes a seat at the bar and lights a cigarette, keeping an eye out for Security badges in case any of them still have questions for her.

[ tiny tag: joan holloway ]

Shufti has finished tucking her little ones up back home (pre-Christmas excitement is high in the Manickle-Johnson household tonight) and is back patrolling for the vampire.

Realising that Teja had a point, and that all the black gear did look a little suspicious, she has opted for a flowery dress and sewn a brick into the bottom of a large pink handbag... with her crossbow, dictophone and garlic in. She still has her security badge on, but it's slightly hidden behind a soft pink cardigan.

She wanders around one of the upstairs corridors, mostly going in circles, pretending to be lost. But she's fully on her guard.

[tinytag: A Gothic Winter Tale]

Kate comes in through the back door looking slightly agitated. She was madder than an old wet hen just a week ago, but as the mood in the stables has calmed down, so has hers. The horses aren't so out of sorts, and most of the damage has been cleaned up.

But that's not what has her agitated today. After Kate Bishop talked to Doc a few days ago, filling in the blanks of what exactly happened in the stables, she couldn't help but wonder and worry about the alleged attack. Especially since she's grown to like two certain vampires very much.

But the fault couldn't possibly lie on either of them, right? Right?

She sits down at a table with a mug of hot cocoa and one of the books she has been reading about vampires, after shedding her winter coat, scarf, and gloves. Her hair is braided and she's wearing her cowboy hat, along with a distinctly Victorian-style blouse and her riding pants and cowboy boots. She's staring at her mug like she's attempting to melt it with the powers of her mind.

She figures she can afford to take a minute to herself before returning to Doc upstairs, since he's becoming ever more hungry for independence from her doting ways. Not that anyone could blame him, of course.

Company certainly wouldn't go amiss.

[ooc: No work 'til Saturday! So this post will be open aaaaaallllll week for any and all newcomers -- slowtimes are certainly acceptable, as everybody will be here, there, and everywhere for the next few days, I'm sure. :)]

Cata had come in with the intent to head out back and do some target practice - but that was before she spotted Sam asleep in a chair. Clearly that needs to be rectified, and she has no qualms about sneaking up on him - not if he's forgotten himself enough to fall asleep in a public space.
"Well, fancy meeting you here."

"Aaaaaaah!" Sam wakes with a start, and carries on in that vein for a while, blinking a few times when all he gets from Cata is a blank stare. "What?"

Then she takes in the fact that he looks terrible... and the scarf and odd box he's got... and facepalms. "You're not here five minutes and you're up to no good. I might have guessed."

"Oh, pooka piss. I'm sorry, Cata." Sam sighs. "Just... be glad you missed last night. I don't even know where to start."

"I can imagine. Just... stay here for a moment." She's still got some of that ibuprofen the medic gave her in her room; Sam seems far worse off than she was, so it seems reasonable that it would help some.

---

Some time after she gets Sam taken care of - and set up in her room, until such time as he can think straight long enough to get one of his own - Cata does finally make it outside. With her rifle.
After this latest development, she needs the satisfaction of the sound of the shots firing.

(OOC: Subject to random bouts of slowtime, but open all day. Catch Cata by herself or her and Sam; for Sam by himself, yesterday's post is still open.)

[tiny not!horrible tag: Sam
tiny plague tag: IMDb flu]

First Entrance
There is a startled-looking Victorian gentleman standing in the doorway.

This is not Jonathan Harker's office.

tinytag: jonathan harker

[OOC: Open all day! I am unlikely to be able to tag any threads tomorrow, but should be back Christmas night.]

Strange things are afoot at the ~~Circle K~~ Bar at the End of the Universe.
Any normal holiday decorations that may have been placed about Bar and her environs are gone, save for a simple aluminum pipe that now stands off to one side of the main room. It's completely unadorned, but quite stable. People should feel free to use it as a fire pole down from the rafters if they so choose.

On Bar's top sits what can only be described as an aluminum foil wrapped shoe box with a slit in the lid.
Because...well, that's exactly what it is. On the side that faces the rest of the room is the message:
Airing of Grievances
To the right is a pen connected to Bar via an unbreakable chain.
To the left, a pile of note cards.

Happy Festivus, to one and all.

[ooc: this thread is open until the Feats of Strength have been performed.
which means someone has to find Mike and pin him to the floor for a ten count.

good luck with that.]

Sallie's in a fairly good mood, even for someone behind a bar doing dishes when she doesn't really have to.

If someone's looking for anything, she'd be happy to help - even if it's just an ear to bend.

[ooc: blah blah workslow.]

Whatever the date is in the Bar, Elle has to be ready to leave again. Tonight, that means she's finally started packing.

Rather than doing this up in her room, however, she's claimed a table in the main bar, spreading her things over it with a reasonably-sized blue duffel bag at the center. Elle is sitting cross-legged on the table next to the bag, leaning around as she looks through the various items she's scattered around herself – piles of folded clothes, including skirts, jeans, shiny blouses and t-shirts, jackets and a few pairs of shoes (heels, sandals, and tennis shoes); her map of New York state, as well as another from the Bar of just New York City; a couple boxes of Girl Scout cookies (Trefoils and Thin Mints), accompanied by a collection of small plastic bags; a few bottles of water; two drivers' licenses with matching passports. Money and cards have already been slipped in the bag, along with a smaller bag holding things like her makeup and toothbrush.

The gun she'd received from X (making it untraceable in her own world) is already in the shoulder holster that she's wearing, concealed beneath the black zip-up hoodie she's got on over a white t-shirt.

Whether or not Elle was really aware of how late into December it was in the Bar before tonight, she certainly knows now. This may have less to do with the sprig of holly the Bar had tangled into her hair, and more to do with the glittering snow man Christmas card that's on the table next to her. The envelope, torn neatly along the top, lies beneath it.

It's unlikely that this will be going in her bag. Having as a little to explain as possible when she's out in her world is, in Elle's mind, the better idea.

[ooc: Open until it scrolls.]

[Tiny!Tag: Anita 'Needy' Lesnicky]

Castiel has been working on his ability to blend in in Milliways. But though he has been coming here for some time now, he feels there is still a lot of room for improvement. When he tries to blend in (i.e. stand quietly in the middle of the floor and watch what goes on around him) he still seems to draw undue notice.

Perhaps, he thinks, if he is holding something to drink he will blend in better?

Castiel asks Bar for a cup of black coffee, which is readily provided. Along with, unexpectedly, a sheet of paper.

Which is why Castiel is now standing in the middle of the bar. Cup of coffee in one hand. In the other a child's drawing of an elaborate Christmas tree with the address:

To the Man in the Coat, from Anna.

He doesn't really know what to make of it.

It shows.

[OOC: Mun is flitting about--tags may be a bit slow in coming.]

[Last night Val meet a most courteous gentleman and oddly enough there is no need for warnings in this tag, except for longings for home and family.]

Val woke missing her home and is now outside enjoying the winter air. She also appears to be floating about three feet above the snow as she sits studying the mountains. Regardless of her nostalgia for the Carpathian mountains, there's no reason to catch chill!

She's armored and there is a warding sigil floating about her. Seems someone is feeling a bit more cautious than normal...

[A Gothic Winter Tale: Guest Appearance by: Vlad Dracula]

[OOM: Coreen has an encounter while doing some late night drawing by an open window. Warnings for nommage.]

A very woozy and hungry Coreen wakes up next to an open window, in a quiet hallway. She has her charcoal and pad with her, and yet, no memory of how she got there, or why there's no sketch.

She sits there for a few minutes, trying her hardest to get her bearings, before she stands.

She wants food, but she should probably check on Joe and Evan.

"Damn, what time is it?" she asks, to no one, before making her way slowly downstairs.

[A Gothic Winter Tale: Guest Appearance by: Dracula]

There's a note left at the bar for one Malcolm Crowe

Guppy told me to talk to you because of some symptoms he can't seem to nail down. Said you're some sort of an expert?

Need to talk.

- Gus Dickinson

After leaving the note, he makes his way to the observation window. He's easy enough to find; he's the guy that looks like he hasn't slept all week.

There were a number of people in need of medical help the other day, so as soon as he's had a bit of sleep from the Kazic trip he's back in the bar running clinic. There might be more flu or vampire victims out there.

He puts up the clinic sign and starts looking through some papers on his table.

Free Walk-in Clinic
The doctor is in
Flu advice and assistance here

Carlotta is near the fire, finishing off the Christmas presents for various people.

If she spots any of the recipients heading over, she'll hide them quickly under the table.

Sam is feeling... worse. So much for flushing whatever this is out of his system.
He's currently in a chair by the fire, alternating between filming things with a camera the Bar gave him this morning and... wondering what in the Abyss the thing is supposed to be; it's safe to say there's nothing like it in Bistort.
Watch out for the occasional sneeze.

(OOC: Subject to random bouts of slowtime throughout the day, but open until his next EP, which will likely be Thursday sometime.)

[tiny ill tag: Sam
tiny by-way-of-IBDb tag: IMDb flu]

Meanwhile, in a universe far far away!
[OOM: Trouble back home]
The portal connecting the Killerwatt dimension and his home world was still down.

This was a troubling development.

Sure, he could just pop into his world with out the portal, but he would be stuck in some random location without the ability to teleport to were he needed to go.

Those bastard wizards.

To make matters worse, there was a vampire stalking around here pulling off the same tricks Lowerniel Drakan started playing with when Zaros first brought him into the world. There was commotion near the library last night, as there has been every night since he returned from his "shopping" trip. The library, obviously, wasn't a safe place to become distracted by a book.

Here, in the bar, there were many eyes. Eyes that would notice something suspicious happening, hopefully.

Find Evil Chicken at some random table at no particular place in the bar, attempting to comprehend the books Fundamental Electrodynamics and Basic Principles of Semiconductor Devices.

[Out of Milliways:

Ellen came to the Bar last from the Metro tunnels under Washington, DC, on her way to the Museum of History and the Lincoln Memorial. She and Annabelle Newfield left to see if they couldn't investigate the Memorial's status vis-a-vis supermutants, but fate had other plans...

Underworld
The Tunnels
The Hospital
The Statesman

Spoilers, as always, for Fallout 3.]

The door opens on a dimly lit tunnel that smells of things best left to themselves. Ellen glances through and calls over her shoulder, "It worked, Annabelle. Let's go get cleaned up." Her dog trots past her, shaking himself off; it's a mess out there, and not the sort he'd like to roll in, either. Ellen is mostly fine, though her armor is scored in places and splashed with very nasty things in others. She herself is pale and a little shaky, and her face is streaked with grime and worse. Annabelle... well, let's be blunt here. Annabelle is covered in blood. Dry blood, but still.

You can talk to them now, or you can talk to them after they get back from washing up- Ellen'll be out of her own armor by then and into her Vault 101 jumpsuit. Up to you.

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

Shephard's not feeling so well today. Fever, muscle aches, coughing, you name it. If it weren't for the fact that sneezing inside a gas mask when you've got a seriously runny nose produces a horror of previously unsuspected proportions, he'd be wearing his as a courtesy to those around him. He'd check himself into the infirmary or something but a, he doesn't think it's an in-patient facility, and b, the Phobos Labs facility doesn't have an infirmary, does it? Or if it does it's really kind of shot to hell at this point, possibly literally.

... he's not really himself today, and we're sorry, but at least he's keeping out of the way and trying to keep warm and hydrated before the cuccos start chasing him.

[tinytag: IMDB flu. Shep's case of the flu was originally conceived of before I got him an actual PB who wasn't a pro hockey player; therefore instead of John Cusack roles, he's going to be switching between silent videogame protagonists.]

[ OOM: 99 gets saddled with a new partner - and she isn't happy about it. ]

When 99 finds herself in Milliways again, she's not exactly dressed for the occasion.

In fact, she's dressed more for recon at a dinner party thrown by Ladislas Krstic - a long, silvery gown with a long slit up the side of one leg, her long hair gathered up and tucked under a chin-length wig that appears to be on the darker side of brown.

Max, of course, is nowhere in sight, and the timing couldn't be more inconvenient.

99 swears under her breath and prepares to head back through her door.

Until, as fate would have it, one of her high heels breaks, sending her windmilling comically and falling into the lap of the closest sitting person.

[ tiny undercover tag: agent 99 ]

Get that memo?
Bill Lumbergh once again found himself in the Milliways Bar.

"Yeah ... that's great." he said to no one in particular as he looked around, seeing an empty table in the center of the bar floor. He ordered a gin and tonic from the bar and took his seat.

{ooc: thread open for anyone at all to thread with Lumbergh}

Five-foot-seven of pure annoyance walks into the bar. His blue speedsuit is covered in a fine, black powder, and his glasses have broken on the bridge, held together with cello tape.

"If I ever find them again, they're both grounded until they're twenty five," he grumbles, making his way up to the Bar.

"Barkeep!" he calls out. "Appletini, and make it quick!" As he waits for his drink, he pulls a small tin from his pocket and pops several white tablets into his mouth, dry swallowing them all in one go.

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