Considering the skill of Arithon's so-called cooking, he has a moment of not-so-minor panic when the Bar fails to react to his quietly stated order.

Tashka, the rat in the two necklaces, chitters at him and holds up a pad of paper.

With great relief, he orders and slinks to a table where he can wait for food.

Next time, bread!

OOC: OOM: Pat Rin updates his logbook upon leaving Milliways last evening, as is his habit.Pat Rin steps through the front door, looking down at a sheaf of papers in his hand. He glances up after a moment, and a rare smile briefly appears on his face ( Read more... )

*There's a white cat asleep perilously close to the edge of the counter. If the cat rolls over, it'll surely fall, poor thing.*

OOC: OOM: Pat Rin updates his logbook after his last visit to Milliways, all the way back in November.For Pat Rin, it has been approximately a Standard Month since he last found himself in Milliways. He's not lacked for occupation in that time, being very busy preparing for his Clan's move, lock stock and piglet, to Surebleak. All the same, he'd ( Read more... )

"You were flirting, Joanne, admit it ( Read more... )

OOC: OOM: Pat Rin wonders belatedly whether Susan knows Sheemie.

Pat Rin, wearing his black leather Jump pilot's jacket today, steps through the front door of Milliways. He walks to the Bar, orders a glass of Autumn Wine, and looks around the room.

He's still quite new to Milliways, and would be very pleased to talk to any of the bar's patrons.

Elphaba lives.
Kumbricia stirs the pot, and licks the ladle,
He's not sure what that means. He's not sure what it means to him.
Sets the table, pours a glass of tears
He's not sure if it means he's free to be himself or not. That question brings up the bigger question, if he even is a self, if he has any existance outside of Elphaba's shadow, ( Read more... )

OOC: OOM: Pat Rin after his first visit to Milliways.Pat Rin steps through the front door of Milliways ( Read more... )

Sheemie is curled up by the fire, absently stroking the kitten on his lap, not looking at anything in particular. Occasionally, his gaze drifts to the front door, then away.

The front door opens, and a small, dark-haired man steps through ( Read more... )