Rae has to make a few trips to the Bar from the kitchen before all of the gift baskets of baked goods have been delivered. Each has a note with them, and contain a variety of baked goods, from cinnamon rolls to Bitter Chocolate Death, from Lemon Lechery to Cran-Paradise, from apple-walnut bread to rosemary-garlic rolls, the ratio of sweet to ( Read more... )

This place is still a secret, at least so far as he knows. Although if one looked around at the number of patrons, it would be impossibly difficult to admit that it was, in fact, anything close to hidden ( Read more... )

Squall has loyalty icons! been pondering the matter of his tab since the sign went up, having arrived with only a few spare gil in his pockets. He'd considered finding a job in security, but as he sits at the bar fiddling with some loose screws on his gunblade, a familiar sparkly sort of noise rings out (a noise he's always hoped other people can ( Read more... )

*thunk ( Read more... )

Gren takes a tentative step toward the piano before sitting down at it, a bunch of sheet music in his hand and a pencil tucked behind one ear. He sets the music out before running his fingertips over the keys noiselessly: he just wants to touch the piano ( Read more... )

::Time compression. He had understood it vaguely at best, and had resigned himself to expecting the unexpected. And his expectations of the unexpected had included a host of horrible monsters and powerful beings and a struggle to keep his wits about him in the heat of battle and defied temporal physics. He had been trained to deal with all kinds of ( Read more... )

Arthur's sitting at the bar [in a seperate continuity from the happy hour post, viva millitime!] poking at his copy of the Hitchhiker's Guide. There's a vaguely troubled look on his face.

[Summary thus far: Arthur meets and frets over Random (Not his Random, the other one), snarks at Zaphod, worries about Trillian, and talks to newbie Squall. All ( Read more... )