( Out of Milliways: In which Angel drags Mark along on a shopping expedition. Only fair, as it's Mark's money.)"--any idea where we might find a door to the bar around here ( Read more... )

[OOM: Academy Awards, 1999 In which two years ago beats both Elizabethans and the Second World War. Rated G for gratuitious singing, F for flailing, and S for surprised nominees.]

( Out of Milliways: Angel meets Mark's manager, who goes from oblivious to skeptical to fanboy in about two minutes. Also, Joanne finds out Angel made it back for the ceremony.)

The bar door opens, and in comes a basket of laundry. Then another. Then, behind another bag, is a blonde filmmaker, calling out to someone. "Hey, Fred, thanks for the help. Yeah, I'll get that script to you next week. Right. Thanks." Looking around the bag, he blinks. "This is certainly not the laundromat." Facepalming, he hauls the baskets and ( Read more... )

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... )

[OOM: Ray gets the letter he's been dreading.]The door swings open and a cowed-looking Ray makes his way in. He's wearing the coveralls he normally uses to work on the car, and he's pretty well grease all over, but more importantly he has an envelope in one hand that's absolutely covered in the stickers the Postal Service uses to indicate This Mail ( Read more... )

The front door flies open. There's a brief glimpse of a New York alleyway, and the sound of quite a few people, but that doesn't last long. This is because Ray fairly leaps through the door and slams it shut behind him ( Read more... )

[OOM: Before his release, Mark gets a visitorThe door opens, almost lazily, and conversation can be heard beyond it. "I still can't believe that you got them to totally drop the charges, Joanne ( Read more... )

There are days which Joanne just wishes she didn't have to go to court. This is one of those days. Walking into the bar, she blinks, then just shakes her head, walking over to the bar, getting a drink, and then going to a table, spreading papers out over the table. She looks like she might should have gotten Advil as well.

Angel, couch by fireplace, pizza and hot chocolate (what?), notebook, somewhat discontent expression.
He'll be fine once he gets things written down, really. Meanwhile, he could probably use a distraction.