Milliways has been said to be (among other things, not all of them complimentary) a place for minds to meet, a place for genius plans and cockamamie schemes, a place for kindred spirits to find each other
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That might not be how the song actually goes. As far as Puck's concerned, however, it's the only way the song goes. The bonfire is blazing merrily, while a quartet of demon rabbits turns somewhat-less-merrily on a spit. All and sundry are invited to try some rabbit, roast something of their own, or just chillax and mingle.
With marshmallows and chocolate and those little ginger cracker things. The smallish pyro makes herself comfortable in range of the warmth and begins setting up marshmallows for roasting.
What kind of party with weird bobbing lights would this be if there was nothing foul and possibly toxic to drink?
There are several wine bottles sitting in the grass, along with a decent-sized collection of martini glasses (which could possibly, at some point, run out, but no one here has any transmittable diseases, right?). However, while it may look like wine, it certainly doesn't taste like it. This home-brewed gin, straight from the Swamp's treasured still. The nectar of the gods.
It tastes like something you might use to clean a car engine.
Still, it's got quite a kick to it, and some industrious soul (read: Hawkeye) has gone to the trouble of ingeniously making one or two bottles of the stuff look like red wine. Drink up!
Hawkeye tips his helmet up so that he can see whoever is addressing him.
" 'Poor alcohol'?" Hawkeye repeats, eyebrows raised. "Sir, I assure you, there is nothing poor about this," he raises his martini glass, "fine speciman of alcoholic content."
Puck and/or Hawkeyeyankeedoodle_drJuly 22 2007, 00:49:30 UTC
Man. Hawkeye and Puck have the best ideas.
The two smug hosts are to be found at various points around the fire. Hawkeye is generally keeping near the alcohol, wearing his uniform, a stately (ratty) maroon bathrobe, and a pith helmet as a crown, tipped at an angle and in danger of falling off his head. There is, naturally, a martini in hand as he surveys the madness, satisfied.
Puck, on the other hand, is here, there, and everywhere.
If you see Puck eating demon bunny onna stick, go to page 13.
If you see Puck lying on the grass, go to page 54.
If you see Puck flirting with a particularly attractive member of ... some species, go to page 'well, duh.'
Hawkeye pauses with the glass halfway to his mouth, and glances down at his martini. "Those? Which those? There are an awful lot of thoses out here," he points out, this last rather smug as he surveys the partiers.
Puck hastily swallows the last of a demon rabbit kebab, eyeing the approaching bunny horde with trepidation.
"Er," he says.
The rabbits, meanwhile, say nothing, but appear to combine bouncing and stalking in a manner that implies, FALLEN COMRADES! WE SHALL HAVE OUR VENGEANCE.
Comments 316
That might not be how the song actually goes. As far as Puck's concerned, however, it's the only way the song goes. The bonfire is blazing merrily, while a quartet of demon rabbits turns somewhat-less-merrily on a spit. All and sundry are invited to try some rabbit, roast something of their own, or just chillax and mingle.
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Ace is so there.
With marshmallows and chocolate and those little ginger cracker things. The smallish pyro makes herself comfortable in range of the warmth and begins setting up marshmallows for roasting.
Reply
He .... also remembers a certain not-too-long-ago amnesia incident. Vacuum machine sex toys were involved.
So it is that he sidles up alongside said smallish pyro and purrs, "Hullo."
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Ace has no shame.
None.
Shame is for people who can die.
Reply
There are several wine bottles sitting in the grass, along with a decent-sized collection of martini glasses (which could possibly, at some point, run out, but no one here has any transmittable diseases, right?). However, while it may look like wine, it certainly doesn't taste like it. This home-brewed gin, straight from the Swamp's treasured still. The nectar of the gods.
It tastes like something you might use to clean a car engine.
Still, it's got quite a kick to it, and some industrious soul (read: Hawkeye) has gone to the trouble of ingeniously making one or two bottles of the stuff look like red wine. Drink up!
Reply
Reply
" 'Poor alcohol'?" Hawkeye repeats, eyebrows raised. "Sir, I assure you, there is nothing poor about this," he raises his martini glass, "fine speciman of alcoholic content."
Reply
"Aye, sir, known Tuck to do such things to poor innocent apples to make 'em stronger."
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The two smug hosts are to be found at various points around the fire. Hawkeye is generally keeping near the alcohol, wearing his uniform, a stately (ratty) maroon bathrobe, and a pith helmet as a crown, tipped at an angle and in danger of falling off his head. There is, naturally, a martini in hand as he surveys the madness, satisfied.
Puck, on the other hand, is here, there, and everywhere.
If you see Puck eating demon bunny onna stick, go to page 13.
If you see Puck lying on the grass, go to page 54.
If you see Puck flirting with a particularly attractive member of ... some species, go to page 'well, duh.'
Reply
"Now those I've seen before," he says thoughtfully.
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And apparently, the demon rabbits of the Milliways woods do not enjoy it.
A horde of little red eyes is gathering at the edge of the forest, regarding the bonfire crowd with hostility.
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"Not again..."
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He frowns, obviously watching the forest.
"What the hell is that," he mutters, to no one in particular.
Reply
"Er," he says.
The rabbits, meanwhile, say nothing, but appear to combine bouncing and stalking in a manner that implies, FALLEN COMRADES! WE SHALL HAVE OUR VENGEANCE.
Reply
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