[ OPEN ] Bar Mingle

[luckynumberthree]

Who: Everyone!
Where: Wonderland's Bar, Fifth Floor (of the first Mansion)
When: During the Fourth Wall Event
Rating: ???
Summary: The Bar is open and scrambling to keep up with the sudden unexpected flood of new visitors. Stop by for a drink or a game or just some interesting company.
The Story:

The bar is always one of the popular places in the Mansion, mostly because it's such a big coping mechanism for the people stuck here - or at least a necessary stop for new arrivals who are still coming to terms with the fact that they've just been kidnapped into a pocket universe based on a children's fairy tale. And that there are other worlds out there much weirder than the one they came from.

Although it's not always the alcohol that draws people in. Sometimes it's just the atmosphere, or the promise of interesting information and gossip. Sometimes it's just to get 'out' as much as one can in Wonderland.

Whatever the reason, the Bar's three bartenders are here to happily serve, or you can help yourself to the stock and closet supply. Jo, Simon and Cami will all be around - and might even be pulling in some emergency help when the number of newcomers keeps growing exponentially.

Feel free to pull up a stool and have a drink!

[ OOC Note: Feel free to drop your characters in for a top-level of their own if they want to hang out here for a while. The bartenders may or may not hit up random threads that get dropped into their bar as well. Let us know if you'd like someone specific! ]

Comments

[beatupgrass]

[maybe he's blind. maybe he just knows the smell of fur, because blind people are inherently better at smelling things or something. that is Rocket's latest train of thought when this weird dude says the magic word. shoot.

now we're getting somewhere.]

Hell yeah, I do. Damn good at it too, and I got the juiciest killware in the galaxy to back that claim up.

[haha_vegans]

I, too, like to shoot!

[ Ron pauses as he dissects the sentence. ] Juiciest killware means guns. Killware. [ He smiles, and - miracle of miracles - his smile is actually visible underneath his mustache. ] Delightful!

I have many firearms at home. [ Not as many as he'd had before - he might have backed off displaying so many of his guns once his daughters started coming around more often - but no one needs to know that. ] I tend to favor Side by Side shotguns and the classic Smith & Wesson 15. What are your preferences?

[beatupgrass]

[he laughs, the sound managing to sound surprised and a bit forced, but that's... mostly because all of his laughs are a bit forced.] No shit.

[he leans forward.] I had an Ion Cannon once, but that thing's crap compared to my Laser Cannon. Fires plasma rounds like a dream, and it's got a stun setting, but who the flark uses those, am I right?

[haha_vegans]

An Ion Cannon. [ Ron repeats the word carefully, enunciating each syllable. As Rocket continues, he repeats another phrase that seems to impress him. ] Laser Cannon.

These sound like they are either very dangerous or a pile of scientific malarkey.

[ It doesn't take a genius to see where this is going. He downs the rest of his drink without hesitation. ]

I would like to try shooting these. Without the stun setting. [ He grins - well, his version of a grin - at Rocket, because Rocket is right. Who the flark uses the stun setting? Flark. ]

Where can we get some of these Ion and Laser Cannons?

[ It's probably for the best that Diane isn't here. As much as he- he... has feelings for her, he deeply suspects she would try to stop him from shooting a cannon. At least, not around the girls. ]

[beatupgrass]

They're not exactly widely distributed around these parts. You gotta get out there in the galaxy.

[Rocket reaches down under his stool, where, half-hidden in shadows, he's placed his unfeasibly large gun.] You can try your hand at mine, though.

[haha_vegans]

[ Out there in the galaxy. Ron shakes his head. What, like Chicago? Because Ron will not go to Chicago. Pawnee is already a much larger city than it ought to be. It has over 50,000 people, when to be an ideal place it should really have no more than ten.

His eyes automatically follow the raccoon's movements, and his hand, halfway through carrying his drink to his lips, freezes when he sees what the raccoon's got in his paws.

Slowly, he puts the drink down. ]

That. Is a very large gun.

[ He looks away, eyeing the bottles of alcohol for light beer or anything else that ought to be shot. ] What's the target? [ For those who know Ron well, this is his utterly gleeful tone of voice. ]