wherein there are many...
Dawn is sitting at the bar, apparently involved in a rather animated conversation with a tall guy with one of those 'hockey hair'-dos. Yeah, that'd be MacGyver. They're talking about... what else... hockey. They'd never met before today, but when you nearly spill an entire glass of diet Coke (she blames her sister for that one) on a guy, conversation tends to ensue.
Not too far away there is a confused cop not-quite-staring at a little grey guy in a large throne-like chair and a talking skull with orange eyelights. The conversation goes a little like this:
Ellison: "So, you're an alien?"
Thor: "That is correct."
Ellison: "And you are what exactly?" he asks of Bob.
Bob: "I'm an air spirit. What are you?"
Ellison: *dumbfounded blink*
[ooc: feel free to 'hop' into any of the conversations or tap any one of the five on the shoulder - well, 'cept Bob, who has no shoulders - and ask for the bowl of peanuts on the bar. Ellison would probably welcome the normalcy.]
Not too far away there is a confused cop not-quite-staring at a little grey guy in a large throne-like chair and a talking skull with orange eyelights. The conversation goes a little like this:
Ellison: "So, you're an alien?"
Thor: "That is correct."
Ellison: "And you are what exactly?" he asks of Bob.
Bob: "I'm an air spirit. What are you?"
Ellison: *dumbfounded blink*
[ooc: feel free to 'hop' into any of the conversations or tap any one of the five on the shoulder - well, 'cept Bob, who has no shoulders - and ask for the bowl of peanuts on the bar. Ellison would probably welcome the normalcy.]