Luna is still without crumple-horned snorkack. Spirits are low. She fetches herself a mug of (surprisingly ordinary) hot chocolate, and sets about scribbling on the Specials board once more:

Hello again, bar. This is Luna, and I’m still a waitress.

SPROING! Leap dash scamper skid POUNCE!

There is a fox outside by the lake demonstrating that not only weres are vulnerable to the effects of a full moon. He's scampering in mad circles, kicking up snow and then pouncing it, biting, shaking his head, rolling...

He's having a ball.

He welcomes anyone who wants to come play with him.

Hey, look at that. It's that strange and interesting plant Seymour Krelborn brought into the bar earlier this week.

But Seymour's nowhere to be seen. Maybe he left it on the table by accident?

It's looking a little wilted. Maybe someone should water it or something.

[ooc: Please read this backroom post before tagging.]

It looks like a small wedding cake. It's make of plastic and Pixi Stix wrappers and a pair of sporks. And it's glowing blue. Some space has been cleared for it, with chairs set up so nobody just walks over it. Bar allows it, so it must not be dangerous. Kira is kneeling on the floor in front of it. She hits a small timer. And what she does goes ( Read more... )

"I told you, compadre--we need us a GPS on this thang."

"I don't think this is the lobby, Jedediah."

"Of course it's--see that thar's old Fido's pedestal and that's--that's the Information desk.

...See, this is exactly why we need us a fancy GPS, but when I ask Larry for one, you say noooo."

"I don't need one. My sense of direction is ( Read more... )

Chase is nervous as hell--he starts work back at CTU tomorrow morning, and while he'd love to have a drink or seven to calm him down, the thought of having to deal with Bill Buchanan while hungover is enough to persuade him to stick with soda for tonight.

So he's just sitting at a table, fidgeting like crazy and attempting to read the LA Times.

So, yesterday Bar presented Johnny with a doll. A baby simulator, so to speak. One that requires the holder to feed, burp, rock it, change it's nappy and so on ( Read more... )

Waking up in a strange bed can be unnerving.

Waking up in a strange bed, in a strange body, is more so.

Bob... had a rather interesting morning. Now he's sitting in a booth in the corner of the bar, nursing a glass of Ray's Green Stuff. (It was the one thing he knew for sure that he could still eat. He's not feeling terribly adventurous right now

The Door opens...

Hey! Here's someone you haven't seen in a while. A half-ton boulder glides in, and he's whistling something that sounds rather like "The Drunken Sailor".

He pauses as he enters the room. "Well I'll be a conglomerate! Milliways!"

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Naraht back to the fold.

*The front door opens, and in comes a cold gust of wind and an Andrew, unwrapping a scarf from around his neck and face and unfastening his heavy coat.*

*He drapes the coat over the back of an armchair by the fire, stuffs his scarf into a pocket, and drops into the chair with a sigh of relief.*

*New York gets cold in January.*