This thread is, through a certain amount of torture of Millitime, happening later tonight ( Read more... )

It's a crisp day outside, and last night deposited what is perhaps the absolutely perfect amount of snow for a snowball fight. The sun is bright and the snow sparkles pristinely ( Read more... )

[OOM: The events of yesterday kicked a few things loose in Wells' brain, although maybe not in the way he expected.]There'll be testing soon for three Slayers, and then it'll be back to teaching the rest just as always; Wells is fine with that. Right now, he needs a little time away from them and from England. Milliways qualifies ( Read more... )

The bar door opens, revealing a fashionably sleek, spartan room. Beyond the door, several ridiculously skinny supermodels (with poofy lips) are perched on the very edges of fashionable but incredibly uncomfortable chairs, bitching politely at each other as they peer at designs.

But look down.

Yes, way down ( Read more... )

Elisa groaned and stretched her shoulders as she stepped into the bar, her coat left in her car and holster empty in deference to Harry's rules. Her badge was still visible on her belt though, in this place it was a matter of pride ( Read more... )

She's spent time thinking--more than enough time, really, and Amazons don't sulk. Work was, as usual, strenuous and interesting. She's going to go snowboarding on her next time off. She'd like to do something fun done before then, though. So now she's sitting half-on the pool table, consulting the instruction booklet thoughtfully left in the corner ( Read more... )

Belar's been busy out in the mountains. People've been using them, after all, so he really wants to make sure nobody gets hurt and stranded up there. It'd be seriously bad press if they did and nobody went to bring them back in. Now, though, he's in the Bar with his sign up as per usual ( Read more... )

She has food. There is a fur curing. She has clothing. She has a place.

She and Ash slip into the bar anyway, haunting the area near the lake door so that they can flee if they need to. Can leave if they need to. The white, white woman and the white, white dog simply take in the warmth.

Bar was kind enough to give him a change of clothes. It's generic and quite 1960's -- bellbottom jeans and a shirt that looks like it was tossed out of an Army surplus window. And so, having had a shower and given his last $3 to Bar, Miniver is sitting on the floor by the fireplace with a mug of sweetened coffee, fiddling with his room key, waiting ( Read more... )

[ OOM: Now she's some kind of ... selling stuff person?]

The door opens.

"You'd better have alcohol. I want alcoho... hol."

Okay, so there's a bar! She knows this bar, even. It serves alcohol!

However, there is also a notice tacked up, and after the week she's just had ( Read more... )