ways_back_room | And with a Crash-

And with a Crash-

Fading out is an echo of two voices...

"He's an angsty, emo, heartless sorcerer swordsman."

"He totally needs to get laid, then."

There's never a good closet around when you need one- at least, ever since someone came up with Rule #3. So what if Laini and Zelgadiss missed the stairs and whatever else door they were aiming for- They're at least out of the bar right now, and Laini is doing her best to get him out of his clothes.

(As for hers- Shapeshifter. That will only take a moment, unless he wants to help as well!)

They crash the door into the back room and onto a convenient couch. Zel winces a bit as the back of his head hits the armrest (because Laini is totally doing the pouncing) and, noticing their surroundings, says eloquently, "Um. Where are we?"

Laini blinks, maybe finally distracted. Somewhat. "Good question- though someone did leave a drink here."

Zelgadiss eyes said drink. It's blue. Very blue. "Yeah, but what sort is it?"

BACKROOM INVASION! Tag freely! Threadhop! Make crack! It's not canon and it doesn't really happen! Allons-y!

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A cat-shaped Yrael pulls himself out from under the couch (you don't know terror until the springs you're hiding under descend on you, under the force of two people collapsing onto them), looking for all the world like nothing is wrong.

"It's the good kind, that's what."

Meester Bond, being a naturally curious person as he is, sees the new opening in the bar and goes to investigate.

Humph! Dull sort of place this looks! What goes on back here?

From a sofa in the corner, heavy irregular topping stops suddenly, and eyebrows raise over gilt rimmed glasses on a face that otherwise remains fixed in position, turned towards a laptop screen.

"Oh," says the blonde. "Bugger."

Charlie wanders in after Laini and Zelgadiss.

"Huh," he says. "It's a room."

He has a crate of clementines under one arm.

Will has a bucket.

Don't be stealin' it. He has to keep his feet in sea water.

There is a Panther, looking around in a bewildered manner.

"Oh, great. This again. At least none of my pups want to kill me."

Come say hi to the girl in the shirt with three birds on it!

Sarah and baby wander out.

She probably shouldn't be investigating strange places with Valerie in tow, but she can't help her curiosity.

Captain Morgan is here.

And he has rum. In a barrel. Which he has one foot on. Natch.

Need a drink?

"Oh!"

Look at all the people. And...and...and...

"Oh my goodness!"

There's a commotion going on, and Clark figures someone better check it out. You never know when someone will need rescuing.

...

This isn't quite what he was expecting.

The brown-haired girl with the bottle of Diet Coke looks way too happy to be here.

"I've never gotten to one of these things on time before!" she exclaims gleefully, and starts scanning the room with rather the air of an avid bird-watcher who has found her way into the best aviary ever.

"Oh Jesus Christ."

Phoenix, bundled up in a red blanket with her laptop perched on her knees (it's playing a sixth-season episode of Scrubs), stares at the influx tumbling in the door.

Very weakly: "I am so, so very glad Sylar's unconscious right now." Beat. "Somebody warn me if they see him? Please?"

"Oh crap."

There's a wide-eyed Aura, looking quite bewildered and holding the top of her trousers.

"This isn't my bathroom."

Cue pee-induced hopping.

What's that sound? Patta-patta-patta-PLOPPLOP!

Why, that's a certain Feather running at full tilt in ridiculous heels and skidding to a halt.

"Oh no! What's that?! What's that?! Oh no, the DALEKS are coming! Allons-y everyone!"

She turns around and flails dorkily while pressing the forward switch on her tiny remote control.

Beat.

Beat.

"Come on, come on, EXTERMINATE!"

Beat.

Beat.

And here comes the tiny remote control Dalek!

"The world, she is now mine!" And Feather cackles!

In a corner, there is a girl holding a PS2 controller. She... doesn't really notice the commotion at first.

She's wrapped in a blanket, cursing at the screen while her spikey-haired kid with a key gets seven flavors of hell beat out of him by a red-haired guy with spikey wheels of flaming death.

"Augh!"

The overweight redaired girl looks up from the game of solitaire she had going on her iPod, and sighs.

"Not this again."

And then there was a girl who was about to go to bed, and then Things Happened, and now she's shaking her fist at the lot of you.

Shakeshakeshake.

She may, in fact, be stuck in this position.

Alas.

"For the love of God, SOMEBODY GET IT OFF!" Screams the flailing Toaster. There appears to be a small blue alien gnawing on his cranium.

The woman typing on her laptop eeped, "Oh hell! Not again! Quick, man the blanket forts!"

She-Hulk, it will be noted, endures - and often instigates - the shattering of any Fourth, Fifth, or Sixth Wall with aplomb.

"Is this Byrne's fault, or Quesada's?"

People, silliness, the Pirate King is just going to add his lovely baritone to the background noise,

"Oh it is a glorious thing to be a Pirate King."

Okay. A change from that Arrested Development that's been going on all day.

Still! The girl in the space-themed pajamas won't complain. More reasons not to do homework!

Jayne wanders over to a wall and leans against it, looking large, dangerous and disgruntled.

Lots of girls with clothes on, and no booze far as the eye can see. Where the hell's the fun in that?

There is the sound of coconuts clopclopping.

Then, HALT!

...

Followed by evil snickering at being evil to her poor pup and waiting for the crack to take over. IT BREEDS LIKE SEAMONKEYS.

Two bipedal cats peek through the door curiously, wondering what all the commotion is about.

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