Caz is curled up by the Window, attempting to read that one Rousseau book that she stole from her double last night. It's an uphill struggle, and (mostly because she's having trouble with it; the fable of the fox and the sour grapes springs to mind) she doesn't hold it high in her estimations. People seriously choose to read this kind of ( Read more... )

Milliways. Any drink, any meal, close to anything you can think of just a polite request away. No need to worry about time. A haven of sorts.

Come on, everyone who's anyone has a room here. Why don't you?

The Bar at the End of the Universe. It's as busy as ever, the silent violence of the view outside the Window juxtaposed with the amiable bustle within.

Subjectively recently, Caz has spent a lot of time in Milliways, occupying a booth that's practically falling out of the Window and people-watching. Speaking objectively, though, or at least from the Bar's point of view, she hasn't been here for a long time ( Read more... )