Matt's increasing feeling of dread could be his mun and a medical procedure she's got to go to later this evening. Or it could be the threat of looming canon that could potentially be harmful ( Read more... )

Stella walked into the bar the same way she did everything. Very quietly. She made her way up to the bar and ordered some hot chocolate and sat down. She kept an eye out for anyone she knew but for the most part quietly looked at her book.

As always Stella is sitting at a table, fresh cup of tea in hand people watching. She likes watching people, people are largely interesting, especially in this bar. However, interacting with those people... she often finds it difficult to take that first step with someone she doesn't know. So she sits and waits, maybe someone will come and talk to

Sitting at the bar on a stool isn't a bad way to pass the time, especially over a cup of coffee. The ever-present pack of smokes and lighter are sitting there, but he's not smoking and hasn't in a month; it has less to do with his healing ribs than habit and pure stubbornness right now ( Read more... )

Yrael, when he is once more himself, will grumble that the deer fell into the catnip on purpose ( Read more... )

Stella slips quietly into the bar and takes a seat as close to her old usual spot as she can get. She's mostly been in her room because Stella's mun lost her net connection then forgot about Stella! Bad Stella mun! she'd begun having headaches again. Now they've died away and she feels comfortable enough to take a walk to down to the bar and ( Read more... )

Well, he's kind of smug, sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee ( Read more... )

Some nights are just like this: all about sitting and smoking and drinking and smiling. Even though his mind likes to be busy, Spike doesn't need the distraction of a book or a newspaper or a deck of cards: he's got a lot going on in there, and most of it? It's fucking great.Idly, as he sits and smokes and drinks and smiles, his fingers take a few ( Read more... )

Sitting by the piano with a half-transcribed song on a homemade piece of sheet-music paper, pencil tucked between his teeth, Gren fiddles back and forth between notes: A, C. A, C. The cup of tea by his side has long since gone cold: focusing on music does that to him. He wants the notes to flow and he wants the song to be beautiful where it needs ( Read more... )

"Oh, my achin' frickin' head." Mugen drags himself up from where he passed out, puffy purple bags under his eyes, the texture of the floor imprinted into the side of his face. He has a headache the size of Ryuukyuu and his mouth feels like it's been stuffed with dead leaves for a couple years ( Read more... )