[OOM: Bernard checks up on Alanna, who is clearly lying down on the job. He brings lemon bars, conversation and assurances that pregnant women really are overly emotional and eat everything in sight. Seeing the boss man does Alanna a lot of good.

It should surprise no one that Meg and Alanna decide to reorganize Indy's career and wardrobe. They ( Read more... )

Raguel comes in and heads furtively to the back of the bar, choosing a dark corner booth he hasn't frequented in months. He has a glass of Atlantean in front of him but he's hardly touched it, favoring a cigarette instead. Looks like one of those days ( Read more... )

*Combing the snow out of his hair with one hand, Thom re-enters the bar. Unfortunately, it just slides down his collar, which makes him stifle a squeak.

He orders a drink, and pretends that that noise never happened.*

*Thom sits at a table in the center of the bar, drinking. There's a sleek book open in front of him; he has a pencil in his right hand, and appears to be doing sums.*

He has shunned a table in favor of an encompassing booth, it remains well-lit because he is reading from a book that he received in the mail today from (his ex-fiancé Evelyn whom has gone on to marry one skeevy Eurotrash husband after another up until the dot-com bust where she had supposedly invested a significant amount of money into Pets.com) ( Read more... )

*Thom picks up a note at the bar, reads it, and reads it again. After staring at it for a minute or two, the scrap of paper vanishes; he sits down and pushes his hair out of his eyes, looking thoughtful.

Well, then.*

*Thom comes down the stairs in ripped jeans, running his fingers through his hair, and settles in a corner of the bar with a pencil. He taps it lightly on the surface of the table, just in case anyone will be annoyed.*

If one is looking for a bartending job, this is not the red-haired man in black to go to.

It is not like this one is truly easy to find. Unless one is looking for him, that is. He is in the bar room, tonight, in that corner booth that is never lit well enough to make it past shadowy and into merely dimHe blends into the shadows a little too ( Read more... )

*Outside, Thom: leaning against a tree, arms crossed, shoeless, snow in his hair. He looks like he should be smoking.

But isn't.*

*Thom walks into the bar, absently brushing snow off his collar with one hand.

He sits down at a table and puts his feet up on the opposite chair.*