"--I DON'T FUCKIN' CARE," Ronan bawls over his shoulder, shouldering through the door without any particular attention paid to his exact location. "DOYLE, YOU CAN SUCK--"

A moment's surprised silence.

"--on me bloody green lolly," he finishes, much more quietly, and slouches towards the Bar proper, hands jammed deep into his pockets.

Milliways is a good place to work -- no one mind if you sit around nursing a pot of tea for hours, and as long as no one gets horribly injured or attacks the bar, you can find an out-of-the-way booth and focus.

Which is just what Nita intends to do. Her manual is open on the table, and a delicate spell diagram is floating in the air over the book ( Read more... )

"--and you can stick it up your arse, Johnny--"

The Irish wizard stops in mid sentence, blinking bemusedly.

"Didn't know the loos in the Long Hall went here," he says amiably, after a moment or so.

He heads for the bar and a stool.

[ Wizards at War]

When the door bangs open, blowing a gust of leaves and stones into the bar--

oh there's surprise in his face, you can be sure of that, but mostly the expression Ronan Nolan is wearing can be described as an amused sort of resignation.

"Well, I'm back," he says, smirking, and heads for the bar stools.

There is a word for homework on balancing chemical equations on top of a busy schedule that involves saving the world and sharing headspace with a Power that created the Universe.

"Argh.. . . That wasn't it, but it certainly works ( Read more... )

Sometimes, you come to the bar to talk to people. To see and be seen; to get something tasty and maybe rare; even to peoplewatch while you brood, or to hope someone will distract you from the inside of your head.

And sometimes (if you're River, anyway) you come because ten peop- nine people on one ship is somehow more crowded and more empty all ( Read more... )

[OOM: There was only one way out.It seemed to Lirael there was just darkness. A blackness so intense that it was possible she'd gone blind...that shouldn't happen when all she'd done was step through a door. It should be bright and cool, with the frigid air from the outside glacier permeating it ( Read more... )

Ronan's getting tired of having seemingly innocent doors abruptly dump him into the Bar (he's run wizardry after wizardry, but hasn't been able to figure out exactly how apparently random doorways contain Gates, each with a very specific destination)-- going to get a hammer from the tool shed and returning hours later, sans hammer and plus a ( Read more... )

Nita enters to find the bar in a bit of chaos, and stops, eyes wide. The waitrats seem to have things well in hand, though, so she picks her way around overturned tables and chairs (righting a few) to a booth.

Passing by the bulletin board doesn't improve her mood, and by the time she slides onto the booth's bench, she looks pretty sober.

Pilot. Bar. Whiskey.

(Lots of whiskey.)

(No, really.)

(Because it's fun, that's why.)