[Logged 2/23/2000]

- Pub of the Flaming Limey -

	A large grand pub done in the 'proper English style'. The main room is in 
the shape of an upside down 'L', with a wing of booths and tables swinging off 
to the right in the back. A pub of a cheerful atmosphere and good company. Step 
up to the massive brass bar and order the 'house specialty' or your favorite 
lager. Hundreds of bottles and glasses glimmer dimly in the half-light, each one 
ready to be filled with your favorite drink. Behind the bar is a large painting 
of a man with blond hair holding a large fireball in one hand. The plaque under 
the painting reads 'The Original Flaming Limey'. This whole pub is done in deep 
mahogany wood and brass and the place smells of unsmoked tobacco and beer. 
Several high-backed booths line the edges of the room and there is a long row of 
dart boards hanging on the far back wall.
	Solid wood tables with equally solid chairs scatter themselves around the 
floor. Pictures of hunting scenes, brass horns and the English countryside are 
hung on every wall. In the far left corner of the bar is a grand old fireplace 
with a huge mahogany mantle and a fine great hearth. An old TV set sits on one 
end of the bar, usually turned to a sports channel. There is a smallish wooden 
stage with a very simple lighting setup towards the front of the right wall, 
just in case some small band should care to provide musical entertainment. An 
old upright piano stands on the left side of the stage. The owner/bartender Mick 
Callahan is always ready with a joke, a sypathetic ear or a shot of something 
comforting.

Barbara rolls herself into the pub, pausing to take a peer about. This place 
is....hmm, now what's that word again? Oh, yes! Lame! That's it....the place is 
lame. Exceedingly so, and this thought is echoed by the look on her face.

Mike doesn't appear to have noticed the pub, deep in agitated discussion. "But 
didn't you see the twist coming from like a million miles away? It was 
*obvious*, I mean why else would we have had to sit through that thign where he 
sang to her??"

Blake is in a booth by himself, reading the newspaper. It doesn't look as if 
he's ordered anything yet.

Rimmer is just walking beside Mike and Babs, half listening to the conversation 
and adding in a few comments, "What about that little foreshadow thing where her 
hand came off? And then... they didn't do anything with it later on?"

Barbara actually manages to shake herself out of the mild horror of the 'English 
pub' and drags herself back to the conversation at hand. "Well, you can't expect 
it to be like Star Wars......and severe gangrene of the wrist is generally 
/expected/ to make the thing fall off in time."

Mike nods, enthused. "Yeah, they musta cut it about to get it passed for release 
- " he glances at Barbara. "I don't *want* it to be like Star Wars, all I ask is 
some kind of entertainment value, I mean was it me or did the third act seem 
about an hour long? Oh, hi, Blake," he adds, on catching sight of that person 
over in the booth.

Blake, who was about to flag down a waitress, smiles and nods at the group. 
"You've picked a bad night to come in here," he advises them. "The 
waitresschesch have been ignoring me all--" "Need some help?" a waitress asks 
Mike, Arnold, and Barbara immediately.

Rimmer just... blinks when he finally takes in the actual LOOK of this... pub. 
No, he hasn't been in many pubs. He was only in one once or twice, once because 
he got dragged there involuntarily and the other was when he stalked down Yvonne 
and ummm.. well anyway. He knows enough to... stare. After a few moments, and a 
sort of 'I don't believe my eyes' look directed at Babs, Mike, and yes, Blake 
when he sees him, he shakes his head and stares at the obviously American 
waitress when she asks them what they want. Welll.... she's pretty.... maybe not 
as nice looking as Babs but.... he's about to say something intended to be witty 
and a pick-up line but the girl's been working there long enough to recognize 
the look on his face before he even gets a chance to get it all out, "Ohh yes... 
I'd like.." She turns to Babs and Mike, "May I help you two? Please?" She gives 
them a sort of overly exhuberant, obviously rather forced, more out of annoyance 
with having to put up with guys like this all day than anything else, wide, 'her 
dentist should be proud' smile.

Barbara simply offers Rimmer a sympathetic look....she feels his pain, really 
she does, even though she's not English. She looks up now at the waitress.... 
"Three, actually," she says, indicating Arnie. "Table for three. Preferably with 
enough room for this contraption," she adds, patting one of her chair's wheels.

Mike shakes his head, "Hey, no, four. Blake's here, Barbara, you know him?" If 
he's introduced them he's forgotten. "Blake, come over here, this is my friend 
Barbara Gordon." He's slightly hyper from the movie and doesn't get around to 
ordering anything yet.

Blake, leaving his newspaper on the table, gets up and wanders over. Casting a 
sideays glance at the waitress, who looks a bit guilty, he offers to shake 
Barbara's hand. "Blake Schullivan," he intruduces himself.

Rimmer looks a bit glum, not only does the pub stink but the waitress is just 
like everyone else... doesn't even want him flirting a teensy bit. Hrmph. Oh 
well. He walks over to half-heartedly peek at some of the articles in the paper 
on the table. Presumably the waitress is ready to find them a seat once the 
introductions are done with. Rimmer is actually slouching a bit sideways and has 
one hand in his pocket while the other balances him by gripping the table 
properly around the edge. It's just sort of... odd. Usually he's rather stiff in 
any position... probably a bit out of habit. He never truly seems to be all -
that- relaxed.

Barbara reaches upwards to accept Blake's handshake, smiling a bit. "Pleased to 
meet you," she says politely. "Any friend of Mike's....." Has got to be 
/exceedingly/ forgiving, she leaves unsaid.

Mike pauses. What were we doing...drinks! Yeah. He trots off to the bar, calling 
over his shoulder, "What's everyone having? First round's on me but after that 
we gotta search under the cushions for loose change."

Carol wanders into the bar, looking to be in a cheerful mood. (For once.) She 
takes a seat at the bar, sets her bag on the floor next to her, and glances 
around.

Blake calls to him, "Schurprische me. Thanksch Mike. I'll get the next one." He 
turns to the others. "Scho how've you been?" he asks Rimmer, as the waitress 
leads the group towards a large corner booth.

Rimmer calls after Mike, "Ohh... whatever's strong and worth it." Well, not that 
that makes a lot of sense but hey... it's something. He picks up the newspaper, 
he has his duffle bag over his shoulder per usual by the by, and carries it with 
him while they're going to the booth, "Bored silly, nervous, and moody. You?" He 
says it non-chalantly, somehow, yet it's pretty obvious he's telling the truth. 
He notices Carol when she came in, how could he not, especially when he was 
looking at Mike and the both of them were in the same general direction. He 
doesn't think anything of it at the moment, though. Make of that what you 
will.... "This place is .... depressing."

Barbara tilts her head backwards at Rimmer a little, muttering softly.. "This 
place is hideous..." just loud enough for the Englishman to hear. Then she 
begins to follow after the waitress, calling to Mike. "This way, Mike. Not the 
bar. C'mon.....can you imagine me trying to drag myself onto a barstool? I think 
not...."

Carol drums her fingers on the countertop before looking around again, then 
motions a waitress over. She orders a drink, making idle chit-chat with the 
woman, then gives her the money when she hands her the drink. "Thanks," she 
murmurs, sipping it contently.

Mike turns his head and blinks. "I was getting drinks," he says, his tone mildly 
reproachful. "I'm not a total idiot." He gives Carol a sunny smile, "Hiya." Hmm, 
order, must get drinks...he gives up and orders four non-generic 'beers'. 
They'll taste horrible but at least they're strong.

Carol just stares at Mike for a moment, then nods in greeting. She doesn't talk 
much, apparently. Instead she returns to drinking her order.

Rimmer hears Babs of course and actually smiles at the comment a little. This 
was of course before his other comments. He gives another backward glance at 
Mike when Babs and Mike have their little bit of dialogue. Yeah, that strange 
chick is still there. Ohh hey. Who's he met or seen that's not strange, so far? 
Well... aside from Mike.. sort of.

Blake makes sure Barbara can situate herself okay at this table before having a 
seat. "You all right there?" he fusses over her. "I wouldn't put it pascht the 
people at thisch plasche to not pay attention to the comfort of their 
patronsch."

Barbara glances upwards at Blake, somehow managing to keep her expression 
neutral as he fusses over her. "I'm fine....I'm fine. I can't exactly complain 
about the comfort of the chair," she jokes mildly, settling herself onto a table 
side that's unoccupied by a chair.

Rimmer sets his bag down and actually half-heartedly joins in Blake's attempts 
to help out a bit, just a little... He gives Blake a bit of a smirk, not a mean 
one though, and adds, "We -would- know about that kind of thing, wouldn't we?" 
Well, it's something.

Mike comes back over, miraculously not spilling anything (note the date), and 
grins at Blake. 

"Jeez, leave her alone, Dad, she's a big girl now." He sits and passes a drink 
to everyone. "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may have to go to work."

Carol idly watches the group gathered, attempting to act like she isn't paying 
attention to them. she's just odd like that. Her drink finished, she pushes the 
glass aside and orders another one.

Rimmer sits down near the bag and leans back into the booth seat, slouching 
again before taking his own glass and responding simply to Mike, "I still 
haven't got a job so my problem would be different."

Blake has a seat as well. "You schtill don't have one?" he asks Rimmer, 
concerned. "Are you really hurting for money yet? You're not out on the 
schtreet, are you?"

Barbara offers Mike a smile of thanks as she accepts her drink, giving it a bit 
of a peer. Trust this 'pub's alcohol? Mmmm......maybe. Not quite yet, though. 
She still needs to gather up the courage.

Rimmer takes a sip of the drink and grimaces a bit... he looks at it warily and 
then looks over at Blake, "No, not yet. If I was, I'd have brought my suitcase 
with me too."

Mike tsks at Rimmer. "No self-pity, Arnie, we're not here to psychoanalyze, 
we're here to get drunk." He glances at Blake, frowns slightly, then thinks oh, 
what the hell, and drinks his drink. Well, quite a bit of his drink. Mm. Beer. 
Sorta.

Carol raises an eyebrow, setting her drink down on the counter. She glances at 
the bag and gives it a nudge. "I know my limits," she hisses, eyes narrowing as 
she takes another sip of her drink. "And I'm nowhere near it."

Blake samples his beer carefully, using his fingertip to carry a drop to his 
mouth. He frowns at Rimmer. "Lischten to Mike," he advises. "Take me, for 
inschtansche: I don't even know what time it isch, let alone the day. And do you 
think *I* care?"

Barbara finally takes an experimental sip of her drink, and the resulting 
contortion of her face is /very/ fascinating for any who might be looking at her 
at the time. "Ugh. Yeah......drunk. Y'know what? I'm going to be a designated 
driver tonight. Need to keep these wheels safe."

Mike grins at Barbara. "Great! I mean, uh...sorry. Do you need the rest of that, 
then?" Hey, he's a big guy, he can hold his drink. For a while.

Rimmer looks down at the drink and nods solemnly, "That IS what I'm here for. 
Now if only this didn't taste like dishwater in a dirty glass, I'd be fine." Ohh 
well... he tries a little more... sort of... He then looks over at Blake, "I... 
don't know what day it is either actually." He looks mildly embaressed though. 
Obviously he normally MIGHT but.... he hasn't got a calender. No, that one month 
in the duffle bag doesn't count.

Blake clinks his glass against Rimmer's. "To cluelesschnessch, then."

Barbara smiles over at Mike, pushing the glass towards him. "Be my guest," she 
invites. "So long as you don't mind risking cooties or some such thing," she 
adds with a wink. Well, she /did/ take one sip. A small one.

Carol finishes that drink as well and sighs, stretching as she ponders ordering 
another. oO(Nah...gotta study for a test tomorrow.)Oo She frowns at the bag 
again. "Didn't I tell you to stay quiet when we go out in public? Hmm? But you 
never listen to me..."

Mike grins broadly. "Cooties? You? Never." He chuckles at Blake. "I'll drink to 
*that*." He does. "Oh, and it's Wednesday. My day off."

Blake pretends to be cross with Mike. "Now you've ruined it," he grins. "God 
forbid I know the date. I schall now have to get hopelesschly drunk and forget." 
He takes a long drink.

Rimmer willingly clinks it. Dammit... he might as WELL revel in his cluelessness 
for once. For once it just doesn't matter, "To cluelessness." He also wants to 
get drunk... yeah... he drinks s'more.. it's starting to taste a little.. better 
now. A little. He's going slow though. It tastes awful and he's never really had 
much alcohol before... let alone stuff like this.

Barbara settles back to observe the males in their own habitat for a while. Joy 
of joys.....watch a bunch of guys get plastered. This could prove to be very 
interesting. No, really. Bet the Discovery Channel'd pay good money for 
something like this.......

Blake sets his glass down. "Scho Mike," he begins. "You schtill working that 
janitor schtint?"
Carol decides to go for it and orders her third drink, angrily glaring at the 
bag on the counter next to her. "Yeah, well, same to you," she mutters, downing 
the beverage in one gulp.

Mike finishes Barbara's drink as well. "Oh, yeah. Haven't broken anything that 
looked important yet. Except that one thing. But I hid the pieces, so, y'know." 
He drums his fingers on the edge of the table. Next round...

Rimmer swirls his finger in the glass and tries a drop... then tries a gulp.. 
somehow that works in downing more than before... yeah.... he's not used to 
alcohol, it's kind of obvious. Luckily he's kind of big... but that doesn't 
always mean much....

Blake is only halfway listening to Mike because he thinks he hears a familiar 
voice somewhere behind him. He twists in his seat, scanning the bar. Who was 
that?

Barbara grins in vague amusement at Mike... "When in doubt, hide the evidence. 
Well, hey....whatever works." She's watching him closely for the early signs of 
intoxication. Must remember details.....must make Discovery Channel 
documentary....erk. What is she thinking?
Carol sighs, shaking her head to clear the fog that's starting to settle. "Need 
to cut back. Really." She brushes her bangs out of her eyes then turns so that 
she can lean back against the counter.

Rimmer suddenly gets a thought, after looking Blake over a second, "Have you 
EVER met a girl as more or less odd looking as you?" It's not intended as an 
insult... He points at the bar, "Because if not, say hello to that girl at the 
bar." He doesn't know why Blake's looking around... maybe the beer's kicking in. 
Maybe. He downs a bit more... Well Blake and Carol DO look strange compared to 
the.... 'freaks' in here. "Stupid gitty posers... tryin' to be British here, you 
know." He drinks s'more and waves a flat palm at other patrons.

Mike looks at Blake. "Hey, it's your round, keep 'em coming, man." He addresses 
Barbara again. "Did you ever see 'Godzilla'? Cuz I have to say, I think that was 
an underrated movie. Sure, it was terrible, but you can now terrify eight-year-
olds just by *showing* em a gecko, which is always a good thing." What's he on 
about? Lord only knows.

Blake blinks. Yeah, that's her...the chick with the...with the...um...with the 
skull. Yeah. "Huh?" he says, turning back to Rimmer. He hadn't been listening 
properly, which is just as well. "I think I know that girl at the bar," he 
comments. "The one with the green hair. I think...yeah. I've met her."

Barbara offers Rimmer yet another sympathetic look.. "Yep. A travesty to your 
peoples' way of life," she agrees sagely. Is she egging them on? Well....of 
course she is. You don't get this opportunity for entertainment every day, 
y'know. Then she looks over at Mike to listen to his little spiel. "It was a 
pretty decent movie," she allows. "Matthew Broderick's often underrated..." 
Nevermind that she never even saw the movie. Just the trailers.

Carol slides off her stool and hrms, grabbing the bag as she mutters a few 
'choice' words at it. "Next time, you're staying home. And I hope the cat 
manages to roll you out of a window or something..."

Rimmer blinkblinks at Mike's Godzilla conversation, "What if the gecko bit 
them?" You know he's not a biologist... lord only knows what he even thinks a 
gecko is. He takes another gulp and grimaces at the taste, "My tongue's not numb 
just yet..." He then looks over at Blake, "Yeah? Maybe we ought to get her drunk 
as well..." That's got to be innocent... he's really leaning back into the chair 
and trying to decide on another gulp or a smaller swallow.

Blake remembers that it's his turn to buy the drinks and gets up. Woah. What'd 
they put in that beer? Oh well. He manages to heel-to-toe it to the bar. 
"Another round," he tells the bartender, vaguely waving in the booth's general 
vicinity. "I thought I recognized you," he tells Carol. "How'sch your father?"

Mike looks at Rimmer. "Wow, I dunno, do they bite?" He nodnods to Barbara. 
"Broderick was great in 'Ladyhawke'," he declares, "but he kinda lost the 
charisma gene or somethin' cus now he's just boring." He looks after 
Blake...drinks? Hellooo? Come on...

Carol looks over at Blake and half-smiles, nodding. "Hey. Haven't seen you for 
awhile." She hmms, "He's still around. Sadly." The bag moves and she hisses at 
it. "Don't make me pawn you!"
Rimmer finally somehow just drinks the rest down straight.... and erks, "I think 
I've actually killed my tastebuds now..." Then he blinks at Mike, "I've never 
met one. I wouldn't know. Maybe they just twitch." He then blinks, "What are we 
talking about?" He doesn't know... good sign or bad? You be the judge.

Barbara nods to Mike, managing through a supreme effort of will not to smirk. 
Don't worry, Babs, another round and they won't even notice your facial 
expressions. "Ladyhawke was excellent," she agrees. "And it had a happy 
ending.....I love happy endings." Do try not to wax melancholy, Babs.....just 
because /you/ haven't had many happy endings....

Blake takes ahold of Carol's arm. "You leaving? Come meet my friendsch, come 
on." He goes to lead her back to the booth. "Bring your dad, they'll love him."

Carol blinks as she's grabbed, shaking her head. "I don't know. I'm not a people 
person... And neither is my father."

Mike nods to Barbara. "Yeah, me too. Course tragic endings are kinda cool, 
remember 'Seven'? Brrr." He looks for Blake again and waves. "Hey, you two, come 
on!"

Blake looks back at her. "Your father isn't even a *perschon* perschon, 
anymore," he points out.

Rimmer sets the glass down and looks... rather... bleary or something. It's 
starting to kick in well. He may be as tall as Mike but he's not as heavy. He 
slumps down and nearly falls under the table. Looking around in wide-eyed 
surprise and confusion he soon pushes himself back up, "Did the table move?" He 
looks worried. He looks around at Mike and Babs, hoping for an answer.

An odd look flickers across Barbara's face at the mention of 'Seven'. 
"Ewughhh.....now /that/ movie was just messed up," she replies. "Somebody had 
entirely too many negative vibes to create that script...." Pause. What's this 
about perscho-...ahem...Person persons?

Carol smirks. "True, true..." She glances at the people around, feeling a bit 
nervous around them. "No, dad...I don't think they're AA rejects..."

Blake hauls Carol over to the table, arriving just after the second round. "Hey 
everyone," he says, "Look who I found." He pauses. "It'sch Carol," he announces 
at last. "Carol, thesche are um...thesche are...Thisch isch everyone."

Mike grins happily at Carol. He's having the time of his life. "Hiya, Carol, how 
do you know the artist, here?" And starts drinking his drink. Pause. Arnie said 
something. Rewind... "I don't think so," he tells Rimmer, rather belatedly.

Rimmer looks up and shakes his head, "Hrmmm... ohhh... films! Films... that's 
it." He looks up at Carol, "Are your eyes naturally that way?" Uhhh.... ... get 
the man another beer.
Barbara turns her wheelchair a little bit, offering Carol a bit of a(n 
apologetic?) smile. "I'm Barbara.....and that's Arnold and Mike. I guess you 
know...Blake." She manages to dredge the name up out of seemingly nowhere.

Mike corrects Rimmer quietly. "Movies."

Carol nods to everyone. "Um...hi." She idly waves, then blinks at Mike. 
"Oh..I've seen him around once or twice." Her eyes scan each person in turn, 
studying them carefully. She smiles back at Barbara, "Nice to meet you."

Rimmer looks at Mike and shakes his head, "No, films."

Mike insists. "Movies. You're in America now. Come on, say it. Movies. Movies."
Barbara is, thank goodness, completely sober. And she intends to stay that way. 
"Likewise. Don't mind the boys.....when they're not drunk, they're actually 
fairly tolerable," she says with a mild grin.

Rimmer blinks at Mike and raises a brow, "Why? Half of them don't even know what 
British people are like." He motions with his hand at the bar. Yeah, he's still 
here.

Carol snickers. "I'm used to drunk guys. A few of 'em are my..friends." She sets 
the bag down and folds her arms across her chest.

Rimmer shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest, "Films." He then 
looks over at Carol, "Hey wait... what are you protesting against?"

Mike is indignant. "I'm not drunk." He isn't, not really. "Yet. But I will be." 
Ahh, a bit more of the horrible beer. It's tasting better now, though.

Blake reaches for his glass. "What are we arguing about?" he asks Mike and 
Rimmer.

Carol hmms at Rimmer, "Protesting? What do you mean?"

Mike snorts. "Let's call the whole thing off," he suggests.

Rimmer takes another glass and drinks a nice-normal swallow, "I don't know. And 
I don't care." He winces a little, "Damn.... haven't completely lost my taste 
yet...." Another swig, "Ohh.. there we go." Then he eyes Carol, "Nevermind."

Blake shrugs. "Fine." He finishes his first beer.

Carol frowns slightly, taking a step back from the table. As she does so, 
however, she begins to chuckle. "Shhhh..." she whispers, kicking the bag 
lightly.

Mike sings quietly to himself. "You say tomayto and I say tomahto..." He trails 
off, can't remember the words and finishes the drink. Getting buzzed now. Which 
is nice.

Blake looks up at Carol. "Ohyeah," he says, remembering thet she's there. 
"Carol'sch my inschpiraschion." He manages the long word with a bit more 
difficulty and less coherence than normal. "I met her while I wasch painting on 
top of a building."

Barbara watches the boys slide further and swiftly into tispsiness, shaking her 
head in mild bemusement. Briefly, she toys with the idea of going ahead and 
getting the full experience.....but....no. It would hardly do if she got sloshed 
enough to start giving away secret identities. Nix that idea.

Mike looks at Carol. "He was painting you? You weren't swimming or anything, 
were ya?"

Carol tilts her head, "Wouldn't say inspiration...just got a poor fashion 
sense." She grins, giving Mike a look. "No. I was nude." There's a joking tone 
to her voice, but you never know with her...

Rimmer watchs Carol back-up and looks sadly at Babs, "You're the only woman 
who'll stay at least a foot near me for any length of time. Ohh well... the 
little blue haired girl doesn't quite count. She's too young." He then takes 
another drink before looking at Blake, "Why would you waste paint on the roof of 
a building?" He looks puzzled. "Snow's one thing..."

Blake chokes on his beer. "You were *nude*?" he grins. "Wow, I didn't even 
notische," he laughs.

Mike blinks. "That explains why the police are always after him," he observes to 
nobody in particular, and gives his empty glass a puzzled look. "Wasn't there a 
drink in here?"

Blake pushes his untouched second beer at Mike. "Take mine," he says. "The 
firscht one'sch already telling the voische in my head to act schtranger than 
normal."

Mike brightens. "Wow, thanks." This is the one with the drunk in it, be warned.

Carol just glances from person to person. oO(And I thought I got weird when I'm 
hammered...)Oo

Barbara raises a mild brow towards Rimmer, looking a bit surprised. Whether at 
the comment, or that he /said/ it, well....it doesn't really matter. "Oh, 
really? That's....uhm.....err. I'm sorry." Well, what else does one say?

Rimmer nearly chokes himself as the word nude filters in, "Nude? Nude?" He looks 
up with quite a bit more interest than he should probably have.

Mike chuckles at Rimmer. "Get a girlfriend, Arnie, it'll do you good," he says 
cheerfully. Too bad the drink isn't shutting him UP at all.

Rimmer sorts of rolls his eyes, "I wouldn't be this happy if I could, would I?" 
He then drinks a little more and suddenly sputters as something comes to mind. 
He looks just a little stunned but hurridly tries to cover this up while he 
wipes his face off with the back of his hand. Then he looks at Carol. "Ohh... 
hello. Who're you?" Err yeah... hard to tell from the look on his face if he's 
trying to play it off or seriously doesn't recall.

Blake stands up. "Okay. I schould go." Hanging onto the wall, he heads towards 
the door. "I'll schee everyone later," he addresses the group. "Goodnight, 
schir," he says politely to Carol's bowling bag, then stumbles out the door.

Mike waves cheerfully to Blake. "Later." He casts the bowling bag a puzzled 
look. "Sir? He's really polite."

Carol waves to Blake, then looks at Rimmer. "I'm Carol," she says, voice in its 
usual monotone.

Carol gives Mike an odd smile. "Yeah. He likes it when people are polite to 
him." Who's he?

Mike gives Carol his natural expression of polite bafflement. "He? You got a 
parrot in there?"

Barbara has settled back into silence for a moment.....she's looking genuinely 
confused. Him. Sir. The bad? This has /got/ to be a drunk thing. Really it does.

Rimmer just blinks and ohhs, "Yes!" He takes another drink and hrmmms, "We're 
all out of beer..." He then takes interest in the he of which we speak, "He?" 
Hrmmm.... "Ewww.. budgie in a bag...." He grimaces at that thought, thanks to 
Mike's parrot question. "Is it even still alive?"

Carol lifts the bag up and shakes her head. "Not exactly." With the usual zip 
sound she opens it and pulls out...a bowling ball? To be more precise, a bowling 
ball with a human skull suspended in the middle. How morbid.

Mike stares. And stares. And eventually says, "Uh...nice. You're gonna tell me 
it's Hitler or something, right?"

Carol laughs. "Nah. I don't care for evil dictators. This is Carmine." The ball 
just...stares.
Barbara seems to be staring nearly as much as Mike is..... "That's.....uhm. An 
interesting piece of memorabilia," she manages to get out. And here she thought 
she'd seen it all.....she /really/ should get out more.

Rimmer stares at the skull... and stares... and hrmmms.. then looks down at the 
table.. then back up at Carol, "Oddly enough I still feel... like hitting on 
you." Errr... ohh... hey. Here we go again... he'll be lucky if he doesn't get 
KOed.... Maybe it'll be chalked up the drunkness, which really is the only 
reason he would have put ANYTHING in that manner to begin with. .... And then he 
falls over sideways, mumbling, "Hey wait.... where did the table go?"
Mike shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Uh-huh. Hi, Carmine. I think I need 
another drink, scuse me." He gets up, pauses to assess state of motor 
control...hey, not bad...and starts for the bar, still more sober than drunk. He 
catches Arnie's 'hitting on you' comment and winces...oh boy.

Carol gives Rimmer a semi-disgusted-the-people-I-meet type of look, before 
turning to smile as 
Mike walks away. The ball seems to move as well, its freaky gaze following him.

Barbara raises a slow eyebrow, finally managing a polite, "Err...hello, 
Carmine." There. That should keep the insane green-haired lady at bay. But then 
again.....who knows? The skull could well be sentient. God knows the JLA has 
encountered stranger things....