Riley is going back to DC soon. Really and truly. He's even dressed as he was -- jeans, sneakers, dark T-shirt, maroon and brown-striped shirt (left unbuttoned), and a dark brown crushed velvet blazer -- when he stepped through the door a week or two ago. He's sitting at the bar with a half-drank can of Red Bull, a folded-up pair of designer ( Read more... )

River is lying on her back on the high top of a booth, her knees drawn up and hands tidily folded across her stomach. She could be asleep for all she's moving, but she's not; she's staring up at the ceiling, or perhaps at the air below it ( Read more... )

Draco had spoken to Potter a while back, and Harry mentioned a secret. Something horrible and evil. One that's unspeakable and unforgiveable. Worse than Voldemort himself ( Read more... )

Mal's been watching old Earth-that-Was movies to keep him distracted every once in awhile.

Cars are nifty, thus the theme.

Specials
Speedball
Irish Car Bomb

"Bring it on, folks."

[ooc: I'm sans AIM and distracted by Drive. Tag ahoy.]

You know, it gets hard out here for a dead supergenius hacker extraordinaire.

The little toys only take up so much time in a day, and really the posthumous commissions just aren't coming like they used to. You know ... that ... one time. Two times? The point is that Mr. Universe is just a tiny bit bored ( Read more... )

Someone didn't come downstairs yesterday, or pay any attention to the small mirror in his room.

Someone has just appeared in search of food and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

Someone, uncharacteristically, is lost for words.

"...uh."

Today is a day like any other. The sun is shining, the birds are crapping on the heads of those unwary who venture outside beneath the trees, and there's a heaping portion of potent magical food set out for unsuspecting bar patrons ( Read more... )

There's no real sign that a party went on yesterday; the loompas made an exception and got busy outside once most patrons headed in to sleep ( Read more... )

There is nothing at all out of the ordinary in this entry post. Just Suzi Darley, a book, and a cup of tea.

Alright, so the tea is cut with fosbine, and she's got a lovely impression of Mr. John Preston's fist taking up a large chunk of her face, but other than that things are, in fact, perfectly normal.

((Time to flee to classes. Will pick up ( Read more... )

Someone seems to have got bored with his own company again, and come down to look for other people's.

He may be working, but if he minded being interrupted, he'd be upstairs.