The Bar at the End of the Universe

Mark was bored. As a general rule, this didn't bode well for the bar at large. Thankfully though, his 'more advanced years' gave him a modicum of patience about the feeling.

in an attempt to distract himself, he was currently lounged in one of the booths near the back, strumming at an electric guitar attached to a small amp. The music could be heard a distance away, but wasn't obnoxious by any stretch of the imagination.

Unless someone had something against the Kinks.

The area just outside the door to the forest of the bar resembled something of a construction site, tools and nails strewn amongst piles of wood. And in the center of the less-than-organized heap of progress was one (computer) engineer, looking at the blueprints the Bar had given him with the determined concentration of a lost foreigner trying to read a road sign in China. The directions were in English (after two other sheets, one completely unrecognizable, one in Japanese), but that wasn't helping Mark any.

So- how many Engineers does it take to build a fort? Apparently more than one.

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Near the reflection pond, a blur of curly brown hair and bright pink sundress squealed as she chased after the evasive ducks that had come over thanks to the promise of bread humans usually entailed. Off to the side, sitting on the park bench, that familiar face (this time with both the cane and the toddler to set him apart) sat reading a book, occasionally looking back towards the sound of hammering and cursing coming from near the door. He was in too much pain to go help- or actively corral the girl, for that matter- but he had enough strawberries in the bowl next to him to call her back, much like the bread worked for the ducks, if she got too far away.

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Back at the bar, hunched over a book with a sandwich in one hand, a beer in the other, was that 'wizard' PI again. The plate for the former was strategically placed under his right hand, so he could set the food down to turn the page of his latest book ('1001 More Spells Using Just Your Junk Drawer'; he'd thought it was a joke. It wasn't.) He still wasn't so sure about this 'magic bar' theory, but the place was definitely interesting. And other than a bit of a scare the night before, with some far-too-familiar howling, he was deciding to just go with it. It wasn't like they could pin this on him; and other than the decidedly late rent, and the fact that his cat was likely to get creative with his mice, in retribution, he didn't see how a bit of a vacation could hurt.

( Hiding )

( OOC )

Sitting at the bar was a possibly familiar-looking, definitely haggard looking wizard, staring down into a mug of beer as if he expected the answers to float to the surface. Despite having been in the bar for over a day, he was still in his trench coat, and rumpled enough to have not figured out there were rooms to be found. Other than the occasional drink from his beer, or look around, he kept to himself. He really wasn't sure what to make, out of being magically dragged into some sort of... magical bar.



Down the bar a ways was another man with a particularly familiar visage, lacking the child and the cane that usually set him apart from the others with his face. He was also nursing a beer, but substituted watching it, for working on a sudoku puzzle book, just to give him something to do with his hands. Normally, he'd be waiting over at the piano, but that was currently occupied by another. And while the music that drifted around the bar had a familiar tone to it, he didn't approach the stage, not really ready to deal with the realization that more of his 'family' was bastardized, here.



For his part, Mark was oblivious to the man at the bar- he was completely immersed in the song he was tinkering with, sheets of scribbled-and-rewritten music resting on the music stand in front of him. He was working on something, if the way he softly played and replayed the same piece of music, with only the occasional change, was any indication.

The front door of the bar opens and a red head walks through, shouting over her should, "Just make sure it's done by the time I get back!" Her head turns to look where she's going and her steps faulter a second as she realizes that it's not the downtown St. Louis she was expecting to be walking into. A glance back behind her shows no door to walk back through, which will earn a soft frustrated growl from her as she spins and makes her way to the bar.

She'll look like a certain telepath for a couple people in the bar, especially since she's only dressed in a simple jeans and t-shirt today. She settles at the bar, grumbling softly about disappearing doors.

Late in the evening (insofar as time was really paid any mind in the bar), there was a clatter of bottles on a rack from the kitchen behind the bar, followed by a few mumbled curses. The source of the noise emerged from the door a minute later- a tall, scraggly, and suddenly very excited young man. The artful mismatch of his clothes easily pegged him as a college student on laundry day, although the suitcoat he had on was nice enough. More noticible was the rather large pin on his lapel proudly proclaiming 'Kiss me- I'm Legal'.

Grinning like an idiot, Mark ambled out to the bar itself, running a hand along the wood top- and getting a shot for his effort.

"Best. Birthday. Ever." He declared with a mocking sort of reverence, before shooting the tequila. He didn't bother with doors, or family. They would come up eventually. For now, he was more interested on working his way to the customer side of the bar, to keep his party going.

( OOC )