"Ah, I see. You're somewhat of a joker."

He had to chuckle, of course. After all, most teenagers were, even back in the eras of his past lives. He hadn't seen many people- especially teenagers- that WEREN'T little comedians in their own ways. Granted, it could have just been like this in HIS world and not others, but he would never know for sure. He took another sip of the strange drink before him, still marveling at how well it resonated with his ghostly taste buds.

For that brief moment he wondered how it was he had taste buds despite being a ghost, but then remembered that he was also harbouring a beating heart and functioning brain, so something as miniscule as this wasn't worth considering as much as other things. He hadn't quite worked his way around what he truly was yet, but with the bizarre people showing up, maybe someone would be able to clarify his form.

Speaking of people showing up, he'd started now to take into account how many people had been arriving. It really felt like a bar now- a community, populous, yet an oddity filling slowly to the brim as did glasses filling to the rim with liquid courage, the cold golden-brown tankards of moonshine and mesmerizers that made one all but forget one's troubles, leaving only a stench in one's breath and a stream of bile in one's esophagus the following morning.

The concept of alcohol was not at all new to Cledwynn. In his own world, it was in fact a law to eat, drink, and be merry.

Or, rather, drink, drink, and be drunk. It wasn't nearly as abhorrent here, though. Not everyone here, in this space, was falling over on themselves, slurring and sounding like they were trying to imitate the sound of a baby pachyderm trampling atop the keys of a broken piano. There wasn't the constant sound of woozy hiccups and grog-laden belches spreading the tasteless stench of 'specialty' alcoholic drinks about the room. There wasn't that one guy in the corner rambling on about wanting to go to the moon to 'slam some awesome crazy lunar dunks that are out of this world' and 'make b-ball pasta' here.

What the hell was b-ball pasta anyway?

He lightly shook the thoughts from his head. The point was that this Restaurant was quaint in its own rowdy way. And Cledwynn enjoyed it. At least for now. There shouldn't be a need for conflict, not in his mind.

"It's well and good to make your acquaintance, Sandra."

Under normal circumstances he would follow with 'well met', or open with it. But this was a teenage girl, and chronologically speaking, Cledwynn had to be somewhere in the hundreds- maybe even the thousands- in age. There would be a generational gap, obviously, and some found that awkward. Who's to say that he didn't time travel between deaths?

Wait. Now that he thought about it, 'Sandra' was the rather commonplace name. She couldn't just be a teenage girl with nothing special about her, right? He'd certainly thought that before, yeah, but his mind ran right back to it again.

And by now he had a few pieces of evidence to support this theory. It felt wrong wanting so badly to know about any powers he was SURE she could have, but he couldn't very much help himself. Besides, it was partly her fault for being so commonplace, not that this was a bad thing.

Still, he felt a little embarrassed at this, and even more so at the hidden thought that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong about everything and would very soon cause their conversation to tip over at the speed of an anvil falling onto the upper end of a see-saw.

And then it'd sink with all the calmness of a currently derailing runaway train that was initially moving at somewhere over some 100 miles per hour.

If ghosts could sweat, he'd have been considered caught in the rain.

Well, perhaps THAT was an exaggeration. But now, considering what thoughts flowed into the mind of the somewhat bashful apparition, he was getting to that state. Not fairly quickly, but getting there.

He hadn't felt this in a long time. That feeling people call panic. It was slight, but he could feel it in his heart, which started to beat a bit more quickly.

It was so tense he could almost hear his heart beating, but he knew that this was just a side effect of panic- thinking he could hear his own pulse. What he didn't know was that, if one were to really listen closely, his pulse could be heard by all. It was faint, but not as muffled as the heart of a living human since the only thing blocking his heart was his clothing.

Thankfully, Sandra was busy with another newcomer, the one eerily clad in fabrics.

He savoured this time, taking it to deeply breathe, and calm himself down. He didn't need his conversational partner to know he was feeling that tense, and luckily he loosened himself up that small amount. It wasn't much, but it was critical.

Needless to say, he felt better than he did a few seconds ago.

@Infamous Empath @Framing A Moose

The three of them seems to be happy chatting up: Sandra, Cledwynn, the fabric-clad person, in their own awkward, nervous way. John couldn't help smiling a bit. He's always happy to facilitate meetings between odd introverts. The other newcomer, though, Levi, he seems a more sullen type. The man was staring at nothing, and the girl he was with seemed unable to take him out of his runt. His beer was left undrunk; clearly it was not a thing he was into. A bit of it spilled to his clothes after he was rattled by one of the explosions outside

John cleared his throat. "Mr. McLeod, is it? I take it this is your first time in the Restaurant? Sorry about that explosion. Most people are surprised the first time, but once you get used to it, it's very nice to look at."

He turned to the elfish girl. "And what's your name, Miss?"

"Hey, uh, boss. Do we got any of them nifty MedBot things lyin' around? One of the cooks got a faceful of boiling chili and plate shards."

And that was his part-time waitress, just arrived with plates of food for the bounty huntress. John sighed, although his face was amused. "What, again? I thought they're the best in the business. I'm going to have to look up their certifications again." He pulled open a panel under the bar and fiddled about it. "And I need to resupply the MedBots, but there should be one on its way now. Thanks, ah, Robin."

---

through all of this Zig was passed out on the floor muttering something about 'kook - a - mook - a' and 'z z z z zopook' and then suddenly with a jolt Zig woke up shouting to cledwyn "she's a telepath!" in a sober tone and then following it up with a more slurred "man, my head"
@Sundrop

@Pseudo Stygian

John cleared his throat. "Mr. McLeod, is it? I take it this is your first time in the Restaurant? Sorry about that explosion. Most people are surprised the first time, but once you get used to it, it's very nice to look at."

He turned to the elfish girl. "And what's your name, Miss?"

Pulling out an mp3 player and untangling with the earbuds, Yylya answered for both herself and Levi. "I am Yylya, and yes it's our first time here. Please forgive Levi, he is just having an existential crisis. His creator has informed me that he will be ok however."

Levi slowly turned to give Yylya an annoyed scowl. Then he turned back to John. "The end of the universe was quite beautiful. I've read about it in...uh, books."

"Beautiful and sad," Yylya turned to gaze out a massive window, her brows knitted in sorrow, as she listened to her emotional music.

Levi groaned, "It's not real."

She turned to him, upset. "It is to these people. Stop ruining things. Besides, it might happen to your universe too. The WorldWeaver has no qualms about destroying his creations."

"Yeah, yeah. Unless his name is D'ren; died 5 times over the last 15 years... Well, 30 or so years of D'ren's life. Point is, he keeps bringing him back." Then to John, Levi asked, "Can I get a Sundrop?"

Yylya rolled her eyes, but she did not say anything since she knew that Levi's choice of drink was not consciously related to a certain character's author. She propped her elbow on the bar and lazily rested her chin in her palm. She watched the ghost-robot and "Sandra", as well as the gnome or whatever it was.

Suddenly all of the lights in the restaurant dimmed...

Here he comes... Yylya thought to herself.

Levi noticed as well, and made an amendment to his order: "Hey John, can I get a cyanide pill with that Sundrop?"

"Thanks a bunch hun." The bounty hunter smiled and put the gun down on the table, eagerly accepting the food. "Oh man. If this is anything like The Cantina, then we are going to be firm friends. Don't worry about the amount of time it took. Waitressing is a shitty job that no..." She yawned loudly. "No human should have to deal with in his or her lifetime."

@Infamous Empath

John served a glass of Sundrop for Levi and took back the glass of undrunk beer. "Hmm. Well, people always take it differently," he said, referring to the spectacle right outside the window. "Some enjoy seeing the fireworks. My regulars stop thinking of it as the universe ending and just as another speck of reality, but then again those who are my regulars tend to be well-travelled."

He was thinking of asking the man and the girl how they got here, why, and where they were from, and who is this creator they were talking about: the simple questions, but then the lights dimmed. Not the kind caused by electronic malfunction, John knew. He just checked in on the Engine downstairs a couple of hours ago. This one had a bit of a supernatural feel to it.

He was a bit annoyed, but not the least bit troubled. "A friend of yours?" he asked to the pair.

---

@Night_ Star
@Pseudo Stygian
Pridopus stared at the mug the Authoress offered oddly; it wasn't like they hadn't seen coffee - or its equivalent - before, but more so that it had just been so long. Greedily they took it from the woman, muttering a quick and nearly inaudible "Thank you," under their breath. One hand came to lower the bandanna from their mouth just a tad, revealing it to be humanoid. The mug was still hot, but they couldn't find it in them to care, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of the drink until they had drained the entire thing.

Upon realizing what they had done, Pridopus set the mug back in the Authoress's hands. They felt a shameful blush rise to their cheeks, but still they did not feel guilty. The coffee left a rather pleasant warmness to settle in their belly, and if they were in a more comfortable situation they, perhaps, would have taken their hood from their face. But that could be left for another time. Now, they still had to deal with the pain in their stomach. The drink might have satiated it for now, but presently Pridopus had their eyes set on the unassuming bartender that the Authoress had pointed out.

Making sure to thank the altruistic woman again, Pridopus began to walk over to the bar counter-

And then the lights dimmed, just a tad. Hm...how odd. Nobody seemed to be reacting to it, though, so they supposed that it was just a normal occurrence for this place. Nevermind the flashing lights booming from outside the windows - they didn't even notice. That was the thing about hunger, about true hunger. It gnawed and gnawed until it became the one thing on your mind, all higher thinking regulated to background noise in favor of finding something to eat as fast and as easily as possible.

And those fries the other woman at the bar seemed to be enjoying looked pretty good. Had this not been such a public location, Pridopus would have had have the mind to just grab a handful and abscond. But instead, they simply eyed them for a bit too long and shook their head, raising the bandanna back over their mouth as they closed the distance between themselves and the bar.

Oh. The bartender seemed to be talking to someone. Rather than go ahead and get his attention, Pridopus resigned themselves to hovering by the bar in silence, waiting to be noticed.

He was thinking of asking the man and the girl how they got here, why, and where they were from, and who is this creator they were talking about...

but then the lights dimmed.

He was a bit annoyed, but not the least bit troubled. "A friend of yours?" he asked to the pair.

After sipping his Sundrop and gently setting it down on the table, Levi tiredly cast his eyes back up to the bartender. "If by 'friend' you mean 'douchebag extraordinaire, from hell', then sure."

Yylya, who knew what John had been thinking only because the WorldWeaver had told her, answered his questions without him having to ask: "We were simply sent here by our creator so that Levi can interact with other people and not be in such despair. Levi is from a dystopic America set in 2020, and I was literally created specifically for this role-uh, Restaurant, to guide this pathetic author." Yylya playfully smacked the back of Levi's shoulder, causing him to want to scoot away form her. She then said, "And the creator is just our, well, creator, from another dimension who wants to know what the answer to life, the universe, and everything is. And no, he doesn't mean '42'..."

With that said, she vanished, replaced by another woman instantly. This woman was clearly very nearly the antithesis of the previous ambassador. Though she appeared human, her outward looks seemed to be the extent of her humanity. Her restrained rage and spiritual darkness permeated throughout the bar. She had dark blond hair, pulled into a bun on her head, and a cruelly beautiful but angry-looking face. She wore a long light blue dress.

When she noticed what the author had written for her to wear, she glanced down and groaned with frustration. But she half-shrugged as she apparently got over it and continued in her ominous demeanor. Looking up, she glared at John with meaningless hatred. "Three large bean and cheese burritos please."

Suddenly in the middle of the restaurant, just outside the bar, The Infamous appeared in a black cloud of smoke, flanked by two scantly armored women, a drow and a vampire. The Infamous himself wore a white muscle shirt, black leather trousers, combat boots, and a black leather punk rock style jacket adorned with rock band patches, chains, and pins. His hair was tousled and dark, a five o'clock shadow meandering about his jowl. He had a long scar that ran across his face, and wild, penetrating green eyes that seemed to entrap the souls they landed on.

As The Infamous glanced around at the various patrons and employees of the restaurant, his teleportation signature, the smoke, slowly wafted away, but the sulfuric scent remained for a time. He chuckled as he eyed everyone before turning to an unseen partner in crime.

"Chaos, me friend," he told someone. "See what ye can rile up."

The red-haired vampiress asked, "Where did our army go?"

"No matter that love," replied The Infamous. "We have an appointment to keep." He started to swagger toward the bar entrance, his wicked eyes locked onto those of the perpetually hostile Author's Ambassador.

Levi turned to the new Author's Ambassador and said, "Didn't you blow his head off? I'm pretty sure you are both dead."

"I can do what I want," she said as the author himself. "I have a sick attachment to these characters, admittedly. But come on, you can't tell me this won't be just a little bit fun."

"Oh no," Levi said with a nod as he reached for his Sundrop, "I can definitely tell you it won't be." After a sip, he turned to John. "Just ignore them. They'll go away. Eventually. Maybe..."

"hey if you touch levi I will SMITE you and I'll make sure you stay smited" said Zig with a drunk snarl on his face while still lying on floor then he shouted up to the WorldWeaver "And if you dare bring him to life I'll have a massive shonen style fight with you!"

@ZeroCuero @Framing A Moose

"And the creator is just our, well, creator, from another dimension who wants to know what the answer to life, the universe, and everything is. And no, he doesn't mean '42'..."

John made a mental note in his mind. And that would be the... hmm, that's the first time someone has made that 42 reference in twenty-four hours, actually. Must be a record. He didn't know how people came to find that number out---even Robin his employee, a perfectly ordinary girl from Earth, giggled when she first mentioned it. All John knew about it was that it was plastered all over the insides of his Infinity Engine for no reason he can think of, and that people keep somehow connected it to the answer to some ultimate question or whatever about Everything. Capital E Everything.

John might afterwards ask Yylya which version of the question she meant when she was very suddenly replaced by another woman. This one was fierce, angry, and ordered her food with absolutely no preamble. John kept up his smile anyway. He turned around and spoke to the small microphone to the wall, "Well, you heard her, didn't you? Three large bean and cheese burritos." To Robin, he said, "And you should bring the food out, kay?"

That errand done, John returned to scanning his customers. The fabric-clad dwarf seemed like he was going to say something, and John would have been all ears when trouble popped up in the Restaurant. Or rather, someone who had trouble written all over his face. Not literally, but if someone appeared in your establishment with a black cloud of smoke and flaked by sexy vampire women, well, that can be either your best customer or your worst.

"Ah, Robin," John started. "Can you also check on the Guardians? Make sure they're still callable? Just in case."

After a sip, he turned to John. "Just ignore them. They'll go away. Eventually. Maybe..."

"Uhuh. Well, as long as they don't start picking a fight with anyone."

And then finally, he turned to the fabric-loving dwarf. It was hard to tell under the clothes, but in closer look, they did seem awfully hungry. "Sorry about that. Is there anything that you'd like? We serve anything imaginable here." He paused, glanced at Mr. Trouble. "And in case things start flying, there's a Safe Room, over there, to the left. You can tell the others about it too. You can eat there too."

@Pseudo Stygian

Pridopus, having at first noticed the bartender's attention turn for the briefest of moments towards them, was juuuust about to request one of those tantalizing dishes currently surrounding them to chow down on -

- before a dark puff of fog filled the entrance of the restaurant before dissipating. Pridopus pulled their bandanna up just a bit more in an attempt to filter it out, craning their torso in the direction of the following noise. Their noise crinkled at the rotten-eggs smell emanating from it, and they would have turned back if it weren't for the newcomer's...interesting appearance. He looked - well, for lack of a better term, this guy seemed like an absolute prick.

While the newcomer chatted with two...ah, equally interesting-looking women, one of the people at the bar mentioned at this man was likely to "go away, eventually". No one else seemed that much troubled by the man and his cronies, aside from the dragonoid drunkard shouting at what appeared to be the ceiling.

Alrighty then. Pridopus wouldn't pursue it - oh, and it seems that the bartender was addressing them again. Anything imaginable, eh? Anything? because man, would they like to have their favorite comfort food right now...they twisted back around, nodding their head to show that they had heard.

And apparently this place had a Safe Room, which seemed awesome. Peace, quiet, and perhaps a rest from all of this over-stimulation? Great. Hopefully no one tries to start anything before they can do that.

Leaning in as close as possible (given their short legs), Pridopus lowered their bandanna just enough so as to make their speech comprehensible, and said, "Would you happen to have...octornapie?"

Octornapie was a curious thing. The natives of Pridopus's home realm, TRAPPIST-1d, was home to a gigantic ocean bordering its largest colony. Seeing as agriculture was quite difficult on the terraformed planet, many citizens relied on capturing whatever horrifying creatures that arose from the deep. One of these was the octornapus, a relative of the pentapus. Octornapuses are small and light blue in color, resembling some unholy mix of squid and cat. They are also, TRAPPISTligns soon learned, absolutely scrumptious when baked into a pie.

But all of that information was absolutely unnecessary to this moment anyway.

The Authoress

Sudden realisation clicked in place.

That underlying, nagging sense of something she couldn't quite place had stopped. Mainly because the Authoress had managed to pin down what it was her instinct was attempting to tell her. The plane of existence this dimension resided in was unlike all the other dimensions she'd visited. It was similar to the one the Randomer existed in.

Most people who knew what she was truly capable of always immediately assumed that she was able to will anything to happen on a whim. Perhaps that wasn't quite untrue but it wasn't entirely true either. To use any of her powers or abilities, she had to know which power it was, how it worked, and what she intended to use it for. It may sound tedious to anyone else; however, she had lived with such powers for as long as she could remember. In addition, the variety of her powers provided her with ample loopholes to overcome possible setbacks. As the midget-ah. A change of plans. She may as well drop the pretense. 'Sandra' no longer served any purpose here. As Ga'Ria drained her cup of coffee, she carefully glanced around the Restaurant, Dimensional View kicking in.

There it was. The very threads that held this particular dimension together. She could see them - finely woven and yet, tangled in places. She reached out mentally to interact with them but her action proved to be in vain. They were intangible, untouchable to her. As she had suspected, she was no longer the one pulling the strings here. Much like how the workings of the Randomer were an enigma to her, the workings of this dimension proved to be as such. How intriguing. She had no reason to realise this sooner - encountering another dimension alike to the Randomer was an occurrence that had never happened before.

The Authoress took back the mug from Ga'Ria. She did not acknowledge his appreciative words, nor had she Cledwynn's friendly ones. Her expression had already assumed its natural state - the epitome of neutral dispassion.

When the lights dimmed in an abrupt fashion, the Authoress narrowed her eyes, thought it was not out of surprise. She was aware that she'd made a mistake. Underestimating a dimension was one thing; underestimating the personalities it attracted was another. Had it not been for her belated realisation, she would most likely had been caught off guard at some point. Her gaze flickered over at Levi when he dryly requested for a cyanide pill. He had an idea of what was happening, then. Or what was about to happen, it seemed.

The arrival of the Restaurant's most recent patron came with quite dramatic flair. The Authoress tilted her head slightly, eyeing the dark-haired man. His energy levels were...strange, to say the least. She couldn't quite tell. Stranger still, she hadn't been able to skim off his name from his mind. It was blocked. Though from what she remembered from the conversation between Levi and the Author's Ambassador, the name "D'ren" had been mentioned. It was likely that this was "D'ren" then.

An unprecedented turn of events, indeed. She hadn't needed Sandra to manipulate this dimension at all, as limited as her effects were here. The unique characters this particular dimension attracted had been enough. The Authoress stared back when the assumed "D'ren" sent her a brief glance. She then turned to John, placing her empty mug on the counter.

"Another cup, if you'd please." Her tone had returned to one of impersonality, holding none of the politeness the words offered. While she was more than capable of refilling the mug on her own, it would be rude to do so at a restaurant. It wasn't as if she cared for social ethics but there was currently no purpose in neglecting propriety.

The Infamous nodded to his two girls and they walked away from him, to opposite sides of the restaurant, as if on guard. Meanwhile, the evil warlord himself walked into the bar, ignored the giant dragon-amoeba, and headed straight for Levi. He exchanged smirks with Abigail, the new author's ambassador, as he placed his hand on Levi's shoulder.

"Mr. Half-a-Jeans-Company!" chuckled the Irishman as he vigorously but good-humorously shook the fictional author, as if glad to see him. "It's been awhile, mate!"

Levi lowered his head in despair. "Not real, not real, not real..."

"D'ren," Abi said to him, offering him his plate of burritos.

"Oh, thanks, love," said The Infamous, whose first name was D'ren, and took the proffered plate.

The Infamous sat down on the other side of Levi and started eating. With his mouth full of bean and cheese and sour cream (for whomsoever does not put sour cream on their burritos are not truly human), D'ren turned to Levi and playfully smacked his arm.

"Oi!" he said, "Did you save the multiverse after I died or what?"

Levi gave him an incredulous look. "You remember that? What...?"

Abi answered for him, "Yeah, the WorldWeaver let him remember everything that ever happened to him before his current age, 28."

"Oh," stated Levi. "So he doesn't know that he turns good soon and helps save people with his nemesis, a hero."

"A hero!?" D'ren spat, throwing his fork down on the bar. "I would never!"

Levi smirked and took a bite of his own burrito. "Yeah, you'll see...mate."

Abigail snickered darkly. "The WorldWeaver is a meta master, is he not?"

Levi ignored her. He continued eating. Realizing she was being ignored, Abi scowled and turned to take a bite of her own burrito.

As if to explain, Abi told John, "The WorldWeaver has eaten bean and cheese burritos almost every day for the last ten or so years. So naturally, we love burritos too."

The train came to an abrupt stop at the station, the sudden jolt waking Yylya who was sitting in one of it's seats. She became startled and confused, the only thought in her mind was that the train was about to leave! This was her stop for school! Yylya grabbed her bag and bolted out the door, just as the doors slammed shut behind her. She stood there for a while, breathless as the train started to depart.

That was when Yylya noticed that this was not her stop! She had got off one station too... Where was this station? Yylya didn't recognise it at all. Oh no! She must have caught the wrong line! Panicking, the girl looked around for the screens which said when the next train was coming. All of them were blank. There was no voice announcements and nor were there any other people standing around. The windows were closed and even the vending machine was turned off and empty.

"Where... am I?" she said the herself. "Hello? Can anybody help me?". There was no response. Yylya started to become worried. This felt like a dead town. What happened here? Did a nuclear bomb go off? Why would the train let her off here. Yylya looked towards the distance and there was no sight of the train. Her hands trembled a bit as she stepped towards the road outside, not finding anything. No vehicles, no guards, nothing.

All except for a building in the distance. She had an assignment due in today, so Yylya ran across the road and burst through the door. Not paying much heed to the other patrons, she rushed up to the bartender. "Excuse me, do you know where the nearest train station is? I have to go to school, but the one outside seems closed. Can you please tell me where I am?" asked the girl worriedly. Was class starting without her?

Religious people have, on the whole, probably started more wars in their efforts to bring peace and prosperity to all sentient beings than those sentient beings would've if left to their own devices. Some of them were of the opinion that the other bastards just wouldn't shut up and let them get on with spreading spreading the good word, but others saw the situation with a slightly more nuanced gaze and realized that if all the religious people could just agree on one god, which was provably better than all the others, then all these problems ought to go away.

With that in mind, they set to work; they created a whole religion (scriptures and everything) based around the worship of an utterly omnipotent being who was so pure and innocent that they couldn't possibly bugger everything up like the others. With that (and the help of an old fashioned finite improbability drive combined with a damn good cup of tea), the religion of Perfectism (an irritating name that was unfortunately the best they could get that wasn't already copyrighted) was born, along with its Goddess, Sen.

There was a problem, however. They hadn't quite accounted for what someone would need to be for them to be so utterly innocent like they had asked for, and it was to their extreme annoyance that when Sen finally appeared on the nice alter they had made for her, she was a little girl of about six years old, and she would stay that way, because they had been very clear that their god was an eternal one, damnit, none of this "Dead but dreaming," bullshit.

An omnipotent little girl was not really something anyone wanted; sure, she wasn't vindictive or cruel, but she really wasn't cut out for the job. Worse, all her followers had to obey her orders (a fact that one of the scripture writers got fired over) so they couldn't really do too much to fix it. They sort of just had to guide her and go along with her ideas. When, for example, she was in a meeting with another god who mentioned the end of the universe, and somebody else mentioned that he had once had a damn good lunch there, she absolutely insisted on going to see it.

So, here she is, at Milliways. She doesn't look strange per say, she's wearing a comfortable robe (one of the best things the Greek gods invented, in her opinion) and has her hair long and intricately braided (which she hates, but her advisers insist is only proper; In reality, it's just so she'll at least somewhat match their branding). The only strange things, really, are the two guards flanking her, dressed in holy garb that rather clashes with the laser pistols they've got strapped to them. They're more there to keep her from screwing anything up, honestly, though an assassin could, in theory, simply shoot her and put an end to the whole church. Goddess she may be, but her body is still that of a child.

Sandra was asking for a refill on her cup of coffee. Wait, Sandra? She didn't look like a Sandra anymore; she didn't look like on before, but now even more so with that indifferent look on her eyes. John decided not to bother too much with the details and just poured her another coffee. "Here you go, Ma'am."

The diminutive dwarf covered in piles of fabric was asking for Octornapie. Octornapie. Octornapie. He pulled out his Guide from under the bar: a thin sheet of plastic with the knowledge of the worlds in it (along with small friendly letter on its side which for some reason says "ON'T PANI". It's slightly smudged). He scrolled through the screen. Octornapie. Octopipie? He remembered some squid-headed water god buying that to make fun of a linguist. No, that can't be it. Octornapie. Ah, here it is. A pie made of a specific variation of octopus.

John touched some buttons and went to the microphone at the back wall. "Hey. Someone ordered an Octornapie. I just sent the details. Get Ryan on the temporal drive to get the ingredients, alright?" John paused and glanced at his customer. They seemed completely famished. He went back to the mic. "Actually just get the pie there and bring it with you, just so- oh, ok. That was fast."

A door slid open on the wall, revealing a freshly-made octonarpie. John took it gingerly and served it to the fabric-clad dwarf. "Here you go. I hope it's to your liking."

John took a glance at the other customers. Levi was chatting, rather unhappily, with Mr. Trouble and his entourage. No problems yet on that front. And on the front door-

A teenage girl burst in.

"Excuse me, do you know where the nearest train station is? I have to go to school, but the one outside seems closed. Can you please tell me where I am?"

"Train station? Ah, err." John blinked. Yet another person who only vaguely looked like someone who looked exactly like them. The new girl was the splitting image of Levi's previous companion, Yylya, but with wildly different temperament. "There's no train stations here, girl. This is the Restaurant at the End of the Universe." He pointed to the sign above his head.

And after that, from the front door, came a little robed girl flanked by guards. "Welcome to the Restaurant!" John waved merrily at at the newcomers. The Restaurant was getting some very interesting customers one after another.

---

As the lighting altered itself, Cledwynn just sort of gasped in a startled manner. What, he had to wonder, was going on? He had zoned out for just a brief moment and was only barely taking into account what was said and what was taking place. He was prone to do this, and sometimes it stopped him from properly keeping up with the constantly increasing commotion. Knowing this, he explored the constructs of his mind for the smallest of timestamps, recalling what was said and what was happening. Someone said 'she's a telepath'... Who said that, and who was the subject in question? The lights dimmed, and Sandra ... was gone? Wait.. No, there she was, getting a refill on coffee, but.. something was off about her, which saddened him- he really didn't want to end their conversation so soon. Maybe it was his fault. No one, he felt, would find him interesting enough to hold conversation. Not if they got a sample of his drab personality, that is. At least, he felt that way. Before he could really figure that out, though, he noticed more people arriving.. oddly dressed men surrounded by women of the rather temptingly voluptuous variety, as well as.. a young child flanked by two guards.

A child? That caught his interest- a small child out in space, surrounded by men in spiritual garb, wielding what looked like toy pistols.

He hadn't realized it yet, but he was kind of awkwardly staring, his head tilted and a quirky yet confused look on his face.

The guards flanking Sen murmur something in her ear about, "Not using your powers on anyone while we're gone," Then quickly move over to the two individuals who were staring at or greeting Sen.
The first heads over to the bar, and gives a curt nod to John, "Evening, I'm going to need one or two things. It's of vital, perhaps world-changing importance that you do not give that child any alcohol, or for that matter too much sugar. Don't refuse her order, just give her a virgin drink. And don't tell her I told you this." With those hasty instructions gone, he moves off without even properly introducing himself.
As for the other, he approaches Cledwyn with zero acknowledgment of his, shall we say, eccentric biology, and gruffly says, "Could you please refrain from staring at our most holy lord and savior, Sen the infallibly omnipotent? I typically wouldn't mind, but we hold exclusive rights to her image so you really ought to convert if you're going to ogle at her." And with that, he hands the man a pamphlet about the "WONDERS OF PERFECTISM: THE RELIGION OF TOMORROW!" And returns to the child.
As for Sen, she's nowehere near as gruff and professional as her guards (or half as professional as they'd prefer her to be). No, she just stares up at the view of the universe ending for a while, until the batman greets her, at which point she gives a friendly wave and says, "Hi! Do you run this place? It's so cool! Can I please have something to eat? I don't really care what it is, I just wanna try what you make best!" By the time she's finished this message, her guard has walked over to clarify what's off the table. She doesn't even remotely notice the fellow staring at her, and after staring at the spectacle for a moment more, she happily hops into a chair next to the bar and waits for her meal.

Pridopus was pleasantly surprised to see their native meal brought out to them in no time at all - ah, yes, there it was. Still steaming, and cooked just so that the tentacles were in plain sight - as is tradition - and curled decoratively over the thin, green crust. They lowered their bandanna more so that now it hung limply around their neck, exposing the entire lower half of their face to anyone who cared. They sniffed audibly; the pungent aroma of the sea surrounded their dish.

Pridopus was just about to take off their gloves in order to dig ravenously at the octornapie with their bare hands - once again, as is tradition - when yet another group of strange-looking individuals entered the restaurant. This seemed to be - why, this seemed to be just a young girl! Those long, flowing robes that she wore seemed awfully comfortable, at least. Even if the guards flanking her seemed rather intimidating.

Pridopus neglected to begin feasting on their octornapie, opting to grab both sides of the tin with their hands just in case they needed to flee to that Safe Room the bartender had mentioned. The guards began to speak with said bartender, and judging by their manner of speech Pridopus had half the mind to reach for their mace, just in case. It just didn't feel safe, especially with that little girl around.

Speaking of which.

The little girl seemed like no stranger to conversation with adults, even as she hopped up to the bar and took a seat (coincidentally next to Pridopus, who scooted as far from the girl as possible without falling off the stool altogether). The girl was saying something to the bartender - Pridopus had to get his name, eventually. But Pridopus wasn't listening, opting to simply ogle the octornapie until they had determined that it was absolutely safe to begin eating it, vulnerable.

With a sigh, the guards move to either side of their 'leader', so as to minimize the possibility of her meeting someone new or getting any ideas. Sometimes she was a tad... Too helpful. Like when a little girl asked to be a princess, and in granting her wish Sen accidentally crashed the local economy.
Unfortunately, the best laid plans of mice and men typically end in a cockup. Sen just leans forward and cheerfully says, "Hello!" To the gentleman who's sitting near her. "How's it going? I'm Sen, it's nice to meet you!" She extends her hand for the man to shake.
The guard nearest the man gives him a whithering glare, and mutters, "...It's Our lord and savior, Sen the infallibly omnipotent..."
This elicits an eye-roll and an audible groan from Sen, "Guys, can you just let me talk for a bit? Go get a drink over there or something." She gestures vaguely at one of the tables.
"B-but your holiness, you should be given the respect and protection that is-"
"Please?" She interrupts with an insistent look.
The guards sigh, and nod in unison, murmuring, "As you wish, your holiness," Before both ordering a drink (pan galactic gargle blasters for both of them. They may be at work, but they sure as hell are gonna need it) from the bartender and wandering off to a table.
Finally having gained some privacy, Sen sighs in relief and once again smiles at the gentleman next to her, "Sorry about that, where were we?"