Urza takes a table near the center of the bar, experimentally ordering a Tolarian ale from a passing waitrat. He is more than a little surprised when it is not only delivered, but perfectly aged ( Read more... )

Conan's out back by the lake, juggling a soccer ball idly and thinking to himself.

Someone feel like bugging the kid?

Conan inna bar. He is, once again, buried in a pile of papers, searching for some information. This time, a soda just doesn't seem to be enough.

He's pissed. There's nothing there he can use!

Um...approach with caution? ^_^*

Near the middle of the bar is a decently-large sized table. In the middle of the table is a huge pot of tea, and mugs are strewn hap-hazardly around the table. The people around the table are varied, but all seem to be in various states of agitated discussion about something ( Read more... )

Conan moves to the bar and crawls up on a stool. He slips a handful of yen to the bar top, and it vanishes. With a sigh, he drops off the stool and walks over to a table, hands buried in his short pockets.

Conan is at his usual table in the middle of the room. Feel free to poke...Or, glomp the cute little boy, as it amuses the mun... ^_^

There is an Ed, in the bar, sitting in a booth. He seems a bit jumpy tonight, and also like he's keeping an eye out for someone - but whoever he's looking for, he probaly doesn't want to see them. Because every so often, he'll duck under the table. Hiding from someone? Maybe, but it's always false alarms ( Read more... )

One shrunken teenage detective inna bar. He's buried in copies of old newpapers from his homeworld, and sipping idly at a coke. Other than the usual issues, the young boy is in a relatively good mood...Generally speaking, of course ( Read more... )

Conan inna bar, buried in one serious mess of newspapers. He's quickly...and, I mean VERY quickly...skimming over sheets, seeming to blow through papers in a blur. There is a nearly untouched cola nearby.

Feel free to poke, he could use a break...

When the Door opens, Peter Parker comes stumbling through, losing his balance and his booksack, and landing on the floor. As he pushes himself up, he glances around and almost falls back down again ( Read more... )

The CSI quotient in the bar goes up to two, now.

Catherine sitting in a booth, nursing an orange juice, looking like marriage suits her. Come bother.

[ooc: Mun begs slowtime for class, offers apologies and snogging to all. Be back around four or five-ish.]