The door opens, revealing a street in Chicago and a very tall man in a sharp suit.

It also lets an--I use the term advisedly--ungodly amount of heat; the pavement is damn near bubbling ( Read more... )

There is a large geisha in the bar.

No, really. Paper parasol and all.

Of course for some, it's not an unusual sight.

...fine, it's an unusual sight regardless.

Still, Lucy's in a somewhat good mood. Could be she's just cursed someone.

Could be she's just happy to be off the damn boat for a while.

In some dark, secluded corner there is a booth. Half-hidden and shadowed and perfect for hiding - and so that is what she does, all that she can do.

this is our winter and we are rivers frozenHer hands are shaking, but she doesn’t really notice. Not with the rest of her shaking as well. Suddenly not so important - those tiny, dangerous hands. ( Read more... )

Because if there's a bandwagon, mun will cheerfully leap aboard...He's here. How could he not be, really ( Read more... )

Out on the lake, there is a pretty bird drifting lazily along, seemingly unaware of sharks or any other large tentacled creatures that might be lurking below.

A cormorant, to be exact.

Of course, this is Milliways, so it could be the Devil. Or an Angel.

Or both.

Regardless, bits of bread would not be shunned.

It's been a long time, from Jack's perspective, and it's clear from the expression in his eyes that he isn't where he thought he would be ( Read more... )

Raguel is at the bar, an untouched glass of beer in front of him. He's not exactly there in spirit, judging by the faraway expression on his face, but he's quite willing to be interrupted.

Sam Linnfer inna bar. He has a long, thin package propped up beside him, slightly shorter and thicker than a pack of golf clubs. He's got a large mug of coffee at his elbow, and is eating cereal and reading a book in a language that when in Europe he calls a form of Hindi and when in Asia Scandanavian runes, regardless of the fact that it's neither ( Read more... )

A very tall angel is walking outside, just along the edge of the lake, trailing bronze feathers from her gown.

Lucy's only been out here a time or two, and never really paid much attention to the surroundings either time, but it's land and the weather's nice.

Besides, cool grass under webbed feet feels wonderful.

Lucy is in the bar today.

Well, of course she is.

She's sitting at a table, swirling a fruity, parasolled drink and possibly smirking to herself. Just a little.