At some point during the day, Sariel hurries through the front door with an armload of packages. They're left under the tree* for Captain Kirk, Dale Harding, River Tam, Tanya Adams, Teller, Turanga Leela, Will Scarlett and Yrael. Then the ensign's off again ( Read more... )

At some point during the evening, Sariel slips through from the Enterprise and up the staircase. When she makes her way back down again and crosses to the tree*, she has her hands rather full.

( Demeter )

It's.

Well.

It's been a while.

Harding's worse for wear--he nearly always is, when he manages to escape back into the bar, but he's here, if you want. If you don't--that's okay, too. He's used to not feeling so wanted. And the pocket of quiet is welcome in the midst of everything.

On this particular evening, Puck is perched on a barstool, fitfully drumming his fingers against the Bar's surface and muttering snatches of song under his breath.

"Here we come a-wassailing
among the leaves so green;
here we come a-wand'ring
so fair to be seen ..."He has already been about the grounds today, searching out something that an evil ( Read more... )

Sariel doesn't have a door now ( Read more... )

"Blimey," Bertie says as he walks through the front door. "This place again, is it?"

He shrugs and makes his way to the bar. "G and T, if you please, madame," he says, adding, "Cheers," when the glass pops up.

tiny!tag: Bertie Wooster

[ooc: It's late, and I must to bed. Slowtimes/fades all around, pls?]

At one point midway through the evening, Sariel comes through the front door with an armful of neatly-wrapped gifts. said gifts quickly end up under the tree*, names attached.

( Will Scarlett )

"I just wanted--Oh," says Harding, as he walks into the bar.

For most people, it's been months since Harding's been in the bar. In fact, it's probably been months for Harding, too, but he hasn't really noticed--life's the same everyday, where he is. (The narration would like to mention, his mun has been working on college applications since ( Read more... )

What--what.

It's been--it's been so, so incredibly long, and he's been so--for all that he's locked up with seventeen other men twenty-four hours a day, he hasn't exactly had company ( Read more... )

It's not that he isn't cold. It's more that the cold doesn't bother him as much as it used to. He's not sure if it has anything to do with anything, or maybe is just a passing strange, but he wonders at it. He's been cold all his life. Even sweltering, fanless summer nights in the mountains could leave him with a chill come early morning. But here' ( Read more... )