The new girl was enthusiastic, if anything, and John was rather relieved to know she was chatting with one of his shyest customer. "Anything at all?" John replied to her request cheerily. "All right, Miss, just wait there."

He kept an eye on the Restaurant while waiting for his cooks to make their dish. There are ways to get the food much faster. But he'd realised that people came to the Restaurant for conversations, not just the meal, and conversations is one of the few things in the world that can take advantage of waiting. The girl seemed like she was going to start a rather pleasant one with the fabric dwarf.

That would, however, leave the robot-ghost rather lonely, and he hadn't even finished his drink. He's a shy one. John wondered if he was going to be okay here. No, screw it, John was going to walk up to him and ask him if he's okay.

"Hey," he said to the half-ghost. "Are you doing fine, there?"

@Sundrop

---

"uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh, my head feels like it is exploding again, hey Caine your head ever exploded before. Last time mine did I had more drinks then there were at the party" Zig said in his delirious way

This was getting uncomfortable.

Pridopus could swear that they could feel the guard closest to them brush up slightly against their cloak, and they blanched. What if one of the guards saw them grab for their mace? It would be purely subconscious, of course - they'd never hurt an innocent child, even without guards! Oh, god. They'd be done for, never to return to their home planet.

...God, this sucked.

But the girl was still speaking, tone as upbeat as ever, and upon looking up from their octornapie Pridopus noticed that she was holding out her hand. Presumably for them to shake. Hesitantly, afraid of what might happen to them if they refused, Pridopus shook the tiny thing, holding it like it were an incredibly ripe tomato that was liable to implode at any given moment.

Lord and savior, was what the guard said. Hm. This little girl - what was her name, Send or something? - looked barely old enough to reach the barstool, let alone be anyone's "lord and savior". But not the most bizarre thing Pridopus had seen here, not by a long shot.

And she seemed friendly if nothing else.

Letting her hand go, Pridopus gently set their own hand down on the table between them. "Ah...hello, there. I don't believe we were much of...anywhere, really." And then they added, hesitantly, "I like your robes. They're very...flowy."

He'd zoned out again. It was almost valid to feel sorry for him, but leave it to Cledwynn to think it was unnecessary to feel anything close to that for him. Granted, he wasn't the depressed and self-deprecating type- he just felt that there was no real, tangible, valid reason for one to feel that way. But then, how could he talk about anything tangible when he was what he was?

Still, one could feel maybe a small semblance of disappointment if they were to find that Cledwynn was, now, slightly downtrodden that it seemed, at least to him, that his attempts at social interaction were quickly failing. Of course, maybe he shouldn't just stare at people, which brought his train of thought to the attention of the pamphlet he'd just been given by a gaudy, burly guardsman. It read "WONDERS OF PERFECTISM: THE RELIGION OF TOMORROW!".

Religion.

Ew.

If there was one thing that came as a sour topic to Cledwynn, it was religion. And it made sense that this was the case, given the situation he'd been in for many a year. Such a god-awful trial.. it almost made him want to do what everyone does with religious pamphlets, right?

Almost. Maybe he'd keep it as a sort of souvenir, a commemoration to something internally comical. To him, religion was mythodical, yet a satirical phenomenon as cynical as emo-screamo nihilism freakshows. Then again, something like that could be dimension-exclusive.

But maybe he wasn't thinking of the right words to describe that. Nihilistic? Cynical? Even the concept of cynicism itself was odd, wasn't it? Many things were, but that was a subject skimming far from the topic at hand. So, moving back to it, he considered this: given the pamphlet, maybe it wouldn't be very pleasing to converse with the small girl- or at least the two bigger men associated with her. After all, they seemed like people that felt no shame in staking up a sign that read "NO FUN ALLOWED".

But at the least, he had to be courteous, so maybe he'd read the pamphlet sometime later.

Speaking of courteous, his attention was turned to Sandra's words.

And upon hearing them, his eyes widened. She wasn't a Sandra at all.

"Authoress, hm..? That serves to be somewhat interesting. Though I have to address this- and no offense to you, or at least none intended- you seem.. lacking in emotion now."

Granted, she'd only just started talking again, but it did feel that way. At least somewhat.

"Still... I knew it! I knew you weren't just a Sandra, and with a name like Authoress, I know you must have some strange, abnormal quirk that separates you from regular people. Just.. like the rest of us."

He hadn't noticed it, but he'd gotten really talkative. Maybe it was the drink, which he calmly proceeded to take another sip of. Or maybe it was the need to keep a conversation going.

Then, as if on cue to the thought of conversation, his attention was drawn to the bartender who had just inquired on his... state of health? He had asked if Cledwynn was doing fine, but what exactly did that mean? Though, no matter what kind, his answer would be the same- as he turned to the bartender, he internally noted that whether mental, physical, or emotional, his answer had no reason to be anything but-

"Yes. I'm alright- why do you ask?"

It did warm his heart a little bit that this man came to ask if he were okay, but he was sure that the bartender didn't intend to make him feel any better.

Still, the devil's tails on his neck stretched themselves out as a sign of gratitude (since the bartender DID just make Cledwynn feel a little less like the odd one out here) before slumping on his shoulders, revealing themselves as they laid like locks of purplish hair. Perhaps it was a symbolic way of saying he felt a little less threatened by the current situation, like a turtle coming out of his shell even though he's in a public place and the poor turtle's a little antisocial- anyways, the point was there in spades, and it was as present as the neck-tails now were.

Even still, though, the newfound presence of them forced a slight, soft blush on Cledwynn's cheeks. How embarrassing...

Thankfully, those guards that had so intimidated Pridopus were now forced to sit in a booth near the bar and simmer. One of them calls over to John again, "Two gargle blasters." He requests a tad rudely. Rudeness is one of the many privelages you're afforded when you're a musclebound man carrying a big f*ck-off weapon.
Sen, on her part, really had no interest in what those old busybodies were up to, and was far more engrossed in this Pridopus fellow. After shaking his hand cheerfully, she gets around to saying, "I think we were just doing introductions, Er, I'm Sen, and like they insisted on mentioning I work in a temple as the Goddess. Y'know, it's much more boring work than you'd expect? Well, it is for me anyway, since My advisors are absolutely no fun at all," She sticks her tongue out at the guards, who, keeping to form, remain 100% stoic.
"But I don't want to hear about me, that's a subject I know a heck of a lot about already. Who are you? What brought you to the end of the universe?" She smiles up in wonderment at the view once more, "I was surprised to hear about this place... It's beautiful, isn't it? I mean, sad, yeah, but really pretty too...." She shakes her head, "Ah dangit, I'm not giving you a chance to talk, sorry, go on and tell me about yourself!"

Yylya was baffled and became more nervous by the second. What was she to do now? Where could she go? "Um okay... thank you" she said a bit sadly as now she was out of ideas. The girl went back to the entrance to look outside, only to find that there was no sign of a bus stop nor a taxi. That was when her phone beeped with an incoming message.

School cancelled. Assignments will be due next week.

"Yay! I get an extra week!" cheered Yylya - she had never been happy as his before. It felt like the Gods had given her a new life and now she was free to do whatever she wanted with her extra time. Her assignment was pretty much done, except maybe she could add a few more things to get those bonus points (as surely the other students would do the same). But apart from that, it meant she could use the remainder of her time to play video games and stuff! Yylya was extra happy and decided to check online to see who else was free. Maye someone could come and pick her up?

That was when Yylya found that there was no reception. No signal at all. She wanted to ask the bartender on whether there was free wifi here, but guessed that she had to buy something first. A student couldn't buy much, except for maybe a softdrink, and even then, something at a fancy place like this was too expensive. Was there a McDonald's around here?

Her Mum told her never to sit in the car with strangers or ask for a ride as there's no knowing who you could trust. But with no reception and not knowing where she was, Yylya didn't know what to do. Could she call the local police to come and pick her up? Maybe borrow a working phone from someone? Ehhh... the people here seemed to be minding their own business, but they looked sort of strange. That was when it clicked.

Oh my gosh must be a cosplay event nearby! Squeeee! Maybe she night stay here a while after all. Yylya went up to the small group (@Infamous Empath) at the bar. "Excuse me, would you know if there's a cosplay event nearby?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Absolutely," D'ren lied.

As Abigail laughed, Levi spun on the stool and brushed D'ren aside, leveling Yylya with a gaze. Recognizing her, he turned to Abigail. "Really?" He then turned back to the new Yylya. "No Yylya. There is no cosplay. You're not real, okay? Nothing here is real."

D'ren scoffed, nearly shoving Levi off his stool as he pushed forward. "Don't listen to this spoilsport, love," he said with his Irish accent. "The name's D'ren." He extended a hand.

"Yeah," groaned Levi, gesturing to a giant blob that had the rough shape of a dragon. "'Cause a couple guys from Birmingham dressed up as that."

The Authoress

"None taken."

Just like the rest of them? Perhaps Cledwynn was right in the sense that she was unlike regular people. However, she was unlike them as well, with perhaps the exception of the mysterious person who'd made a dramatic entrance.

"Your observation is correct. I am unable to access most, if not all, of my emotions," she said.

The sudden shift from his self-effacing nature to something more outspoken, no matter how slight, was unprecedented. It seemed there was a bright side to being unable to either observe or manipulate the time stream of this dimension. Mundane aspects of everyday interaction became something new, something unexpected. A breath of fresh air from constantly knowing everything that was about to happen.

"You would judge a person's attributes from their name alone?" The question was not accusatory - rather, she was only thinking aloud. "It's quite possible that my name could define me as what it is, at its most simplest; a female who writes."

She glanced at the bartender who had come over to inquire on Cledwynn's wellbeing. Of all the mysteries that riddled this dimension, he was one of the biggest. All she was able to glean off his mind was his name, John. Everything else was a blank. She could sense no outside forces of any sort barring access. It was almost as if everything else had been wiped clean. To her, he seemed to be nothing more than an average Joe. An easily forgettable one.

And yet. She couldn't help but surmise that he was the "main character" of this story.

Hmm.

"It isn't so much that I'm judging by your name, but.."

He took another sip of his drink. Damn, this was good. He'd have to make a note to ask of the recipe later. Though, seeing as how it looked like it was just some sort of sweetened water drink, it might be simple. Hell, it could have been store-bought. But Cledwynn was quick to pass that off, just as quick as he was to assume that Sandra- or, rather, the Authoress- was anything but normal. He at least knew he was right, and figured it was only polite to clarify as to how he was tipped off.

"A name- or should I say title- like the Authoress does not strike many people as something mundane. And you're not the only one that looks normal, but isn't- take that small child and her two guards, or the bartender."

He didn't mean to toot his own horn (after all, he's no Mr. Skeltal) but he felt like he had a lot of good evidence. It's always nice to pat one's self on the back every now and again, but he made a point not to let it affect him mentally- that is to say, most people would perhaps wear a sly smile or a smirk as if to say 'I've got you cornered now!' but this wasn't even the court of law. When it came to law, out here, Cledwynn was pretty sure that the bartender was the law. At least within these walls.

Speaking of walls, he told himself to check around later when conversation was over. There were more rooms.

In any case, his mental attention was no longer diverted, and it was back to the Authoress, considering he had one more reason he wanted to set free.

"But I think that the greatest reason why you couldn't be passed off as a normal child is that, well.. you're here."

He took another look at the End. He'd heard someone say it was beautiful, but also dreadfully sad, and honestly they were right. His thoughts wandered for a moment, but walked into a minefield of negative territory, so he gathered his resolve and continued speaking so that he wouldn't think about topics of aftermath.

"... Th-think about it. This area's way out in deep space, at the outline of a dying universe. It would take some sort of supernatural skill to get here, survive in the zero-oxygen environment you were in before you entered. I doubt that environment is the same here- there has to be oxygen in here or else my drink would have flash-frozen. In fact, I doubt any food or drinks here would have been preserved or edible if the lack of oxygen was present. ...At least, I think that's how that works. ... Well, uh, m-my point is that no regular space-traveling astronaut can get here through normal means, and the only way you could be a regular human is if you were somehow transported directly into the restaurant. .. But even then, if you found a way to teleport here, that itself is abnormal, for lack of a better term."

Hoo boy. Supernatural stuff was a real hit for the ghost-bot, and when it came to that he could talk for hours. That, and he loved his explanations. What good is a critically-thinking mind if all the information isn't spread to others with reason?

Still, he shut his mouth for the time being. His (hopefully) new friend also needed to speak.

Pridopus stared down at this young girl, who already seemed like she was taking the whole "constantly surrounded by mysterious guards" thing quite well, considering. Pridopus had noticed the guards handing out a series of brightly-colored pamphlets around to some of the restaurant patrons as time went on, and although Pridopus themself didn't receive one (yet), they could already guess what the contents would be. In their travels, they'd come across quite a few fringe religions - one could argue that they were part of a fringe religion, at one point - but a little girl as their...goddess?

Seriously?

Pridopus shook their head, bringing their focus back on...Sen, as she introduced herself. She'd mentioned something about...the end of the universe? What was that supposed to mean? (As, aside from the brightly flashing lights, Pridopus hadn't even noticed the literal end of time occurring just outside the restaurant's many, many windows. Astonishing, really.)

"Yes, it's quite nice in here..." they began, staring down at their octorapie with barely concealed desire. "But what exactly do you mean by 'the end of the universe'? I'm not exactly here by choice,
anyhow..."

The waiter who came in to bring the young goddess her meal had four arms and two heads who couldn't stop glancing and glaring at each other, at least until John glared back at them, after which they put up a smile and served the goddess Sen her plate: toasts, with sugars and chocolate chips. They discreetly went back to the kitchen, the two heads still looking like they want to strangle each other.

John turned his attention back to the rest of the bar. Seemed like everyone has somebody to talk to, which was excellent. Even the odd schoolgirl was fine having a talk with Mr. Trouble and Mr. Normal, who somehow seemed to be fine glaring at each other like the two-headed waiter, instead of going at each other throat. The robot-ghost didn't seem so shy anymore, as he was talking on about his theory on oddities with the Authoress: "And you're not the only one that looks normal, but isn't- take that small child and her two guards, or the bartender."

Oh no, John wanted to say, I am very ordinary, relatively, by some frame of reference. But it's not his place to change someone else's frame of thought, so he turned instead to the fabric dwarf and his new friend the goddess. "But what exactly do you mean by 'the end of the universe'?" he was saying.

"Ah, hmm," John started. "Maybe you ought to finish your meal before looking behind you, then." He gestured at the windows, where the universe was performing its final fireworks. "Or look behind you before you start eating."

---

out ranbomly after passing out again Zig screamed in his sleep "MMMMMMMOOOOOOOO!!!" and flew around the room and a greenish gas started coming out his nostril and suddenly he woke up not realising what was doing and yawned then suddenly jolted as he realised ther was green gas coming from his nostrils and shouted urgently "Everyone get out of the it's sleeping ggg... aa... sssssssssh" he said that last bit as the sleeping gas took effect on him

@Infamous Empath

"I'm not real?" replied Yylya. Was this some skit or acting from the cosplay arena? Okay... this was getting kinda awkward. unless... "Oh my gosh! You guys are Matrix fans aren't you? I loved the first movie!" Yylya said excitedly. "Uh, but how did you know my name?" she added at the end. Yylya quickly checked to see that her wallet and ID were still there, and thankfully they were.

Yylya had trouble pronouncing D'ren's name, so just called him Dren. She shook his hand, but otherwise was at a loss. "So how much are the tickets to the place? I hope it isn't invite-only" That was when Yylya noticed the giant blob thing. She gazed at it for a while, wondering how they pulled it off. Not only that, there were others around that Yylya didn't recognise - which movie were they from? Those costumes must have been made by the best. Yylya then took out her phone, wondering if now was the right time to take photos of everyone and stuff. Being a bit too shy to go and ask people (who seemed occupied with their own matters), Yylya could only take a few quick snaps. She became a little worried as no one knew she was here, but her phone had no reception.

"Um, would you guys have a phone I can borrow so I can call my Mum?" she asked hesistantly.

"How are you so mesmerized by mystical shit," Levi asked, "when you have pink skin and pointed ears?"

Abigail sighed. "Honey," she said in a Staten Island accent, placing her hand on Yylya's shoulder. "I'm afraid the boy's right. This isn't a cosplay convention, though I wish it were. You're a fictional character. But you can still have fun here. Levi and I know your name because you were here before, but..." She glanced to Levi, uncertain, and then back to Yylya. "Well, you don't remember. I took your place."

D'ren butted it, placing his hand on Yylya's back and coaxing her away from the bar. "Young lady," grinned The Infamous as he peered into her eyes. "Why don't we go somewhere...else?"

At the mention of "young lady," Levi appeared to have a mild stroke. As he seized and blinked rapidly, he clenched his jaw and fists. Levi lowered his head, his face nearly in his half-finished burrito plate. As he did this, Abigail looked over at him, concerned.

Before she could ask him what was wrong, her image flickered, as if she were a malfunctioning illusion. As if someone was channel-surfing a holographic TV, Abi's body rapidly changed to about half a dozen other women before landing on a much taller woman with long, golden blond hair, a taut expression of serenity and confidence, and a tan duster that looked like it had just came out of a western.

As drool stringed from his heavily breathing mouth and into his sour cream, Levi gaped at the new Author's Ambassador. "T-Talitha," he stammered.

D'ren glanced back at the changed Ambassador and shook his head with a sigh. "Tell your author to piss off."

The Authoress

As Cledwynn spoke, the Authoress maintained her steady gaze, clearly showing that he had her attention. She always did appreciate analytical minds such as his. His explanations did not disappoint.

"Fair enough," she said. She leaned forward on her elbows to stare into her coffee, wisps of steam warming her face. On the other hand, Cledwynn's observations depended entirely on his definition of "normal". With everything she'd seen, experienced, in the multiverse thus far, the word held as much meaning to her as time did. "Normal", for her, could stand for beings like Zig, or it could stand for humans like Sandy Caine. It didn't matter either way. They both knew that Cledwynn was right and attempting to counter his reasoning would be an entirely pointless endeavour.

She lifted her head, turning once more to face Cledwynn. "Speaking of the restaurant, despite its rather prosaic appearance, it's a curious place." The Authoress paused, reconsidering her words and her audience. "Perhaps I should rephrase that. A setting such as this is a common sight for me and, at first glance, it seemed to be no different than the dimensions I traverse. When I observed it closely, however, I realised that the very threads that made up this dimension proved otherwise."

Her gaze slid over to the inebriated dragon amoeba, unconcerned at his antics. Her right hand slid off her coffee mug, twitching her index and middle fingers. Any amount of sleeping gas that drifted in her direction immediately wafted around her immediate area, creating a safe zone of sorts.

"It's made everything more unexpected than usual," she mused, her dull eyes returning to Cledwynn.

Cledwynn's attention was affixed on the Authoress, and he held a modicum of startled surprise at how much she seemed used to this, but he couldn't stop himself from turning to the dragon amoeba, who was making one hell of a scene nearby. After all, if something that looked roughly like a dragon suddenly mooed at the top of his lungs and proceeded to fly while spewing out sleeping gas, you'd be pretty freaked out too. But his attention quickly dissipated once the dragamoeba lost consciousness once more, especially because the gas didn't affect him, considering he was a spirit.

At this point, the dragon was just starting to make him uncomfortable, so maybe it was best not to pay attention to him.

That said, he turned back to the Authoress, tilting his head as if to convey confusion.

"Okay, so.. you said you traverse dimensions, so it's likely you've seen a lot, but... It still surprises me that all that you've seen here is but second nature to you. It is.. sort of unfortunate that you seem so disinterested about being here. It.. might be weird to say, but I wouldn't mind helping you find a way to see something you've never seen before. Something you'd like. Though.. that probably sounds weird."

He rubbed the back of his ghostly neck, giving an awkward laugh, one that had a slightly shrill undertone to it, and it almost sounded demonic. That always happened when he laughed.. part of the curse, he assumed, even though it was such a strange and specific detail to add.

"But.. I don't doubt that you're not wrong. This restaurant is rather odd.. for lack of a better term. From the drink I was served to the restaurant's location and all that which lies in between, it's all very.. strange, again, for lack of a better term. Even more bizarre are its patrons. I know I'm not one to talk, though; I might be the most eccentric being here."

The devil's tails connected to him were busy doing their own thing. Two of them seemed to be playing around with each other, tangling and untangling with themselves while the third wrapped itself around the lower base of Cledwynn's glass that contained his drink. That aforementioned tail then started to trail the tip of itself around the rim of the glass as if it were the finger of a lone person at the front table of a bar, mildly intoxicated and desperately lonely while the usual slow-running piano number played on a mildly damaged yet flamboyantly coloured jukebox adorned with neon lighting.

However, and though it was obvious, this was not that, and it was not close nor would it come close to such a situation.

Which was good. Otherwise this would be going terribly.

Which- spoiler alert- it wasn't.

@Infamous Empath
"Oh, my ears and skin?..." started Yylya. Her mind seemed to freeze at that point for about a good few seconds. It was as if her soul wasn't there, possibly being tweaked by some unknown entity who was scrambling to patch a plothole. "...that's because everyone from where I am is like this!" she finished as she twirled around. "But that's odd. Why are all of you looking different? It's like you look normal, but not normal like me... Sorry no offense"

Abigail then tried to convince Yylya that she wasn't real. She was quite confused at how the woman had took her place. She now felt lost as if she had just stepped into a classroom when the lesson was already underway. Then there was a feeling of deja vu, and she felt like this had happened before. When it came to the specifics, whilst Yylya knew she was a schoolgirl, there were other parts of her mind that were oddly blank. Like who her friends were. Maybe it was the air around here that was making her feel funny.

Yylya jumped when Dren placed his hand on her back. She... felt scared. 'Stranger danger' echoed around in her mind, the thought bypassing all other parts of her conscience. Never had she before experienced such a strong will to get away. Those words sounded bad. Like those images of creepers in alleyways that... that... Yylya looked at Abigail in desperation and fear. She could escape, but it was better if the others here had her back.

Then a lot of things happened. A fight of sorts seemed to start and the woman was replaced by many. Yylya tried to get herself to a safe distance if she could, both mesmerised and scared at the same time. Yylya clutched her phone hard, as if her phone was the only way she could return home. What world did she just step into? Why was this bar filled with strange people? Either this was some twisted convention or these guys were...

ALIENS!

The Authoress

She shook her head. "That is a kind offer, but you misunderstand. My lack of emotions is the largest factor of my apparent disinterest. When you cannot feel primary emotions like happiness, misery, anger, and the like, it's nigh impossible to express anything genuine." The Authoress leaned back slightly and shifted her attention back to her coffee. A sphere of coffee lifted out of her mug, hovering right above its rim.

"The multiverse is a big place. There are infinite possibilities, infinite versions of everything spawning into existence for all of eternity." The sphere split into two smaller ones, then three, then four, and soon, there were several individual mini globes of coffee scattered in floating, neat rows. "Everything is new; nothing is ever the same. To find something that I've never seen before, as you say, would not be difficult. Take this dimension, for example, or the man over there who came in smoke." She gestured with her head in the direction of "D'ren". "As of now, they are both mysteries to me." The hovering coffee globes congealed into a singular sphere once more and dropped into the Authoress' mug with a gentle plop.

"To be awed or surprised by such discoveries is another matter entirely. I am simply unable to experience such emotions. On the other hand, I can be mildly intrigued by certain things, which leads me to believe that if I were to feel an emotion, it would be on a severely reduced level." She drew the mug nearer, eyeing the steam lazily unfurling into the air.

"It's a trait that I can appreciate, however. Emotions hardly serve as anything other than a distraction," she finished, lifting up her mug for another sip.

It was true. With her job as the Embodiment of Restraint, possessing emotions would only hinder her. They would befog her mind with unneeded morals, cloud her judgement. Worst case scenario, they would give her a conscience. The Authoress remembered when that had happened to Erised. It hadn't been pretty.

She set the mug down.

"Great elder stars of the heavens, Zig" John muttered under his breath. The old amoeba was flying around the room, disturbing the calmer customers around the restaurants and spewing out green sleeping gas, that most annoying of health hazard. John was quick, however. He pulled out a scroll from one of his pocket and whispered the spell written on it.

As it's spoken in a language that the Universal Translator somehow can't get a hold of (more likely, the wizard who sold him the scroll was just messing with him), it's best to just move on to describing the effect of the spell: the sleeping amoeba was suddenly surrounded in a bubble of water-like substance, enclosing the gas and preventing them from leaking out. The scroll in John's hand burned up as he finished the spell.

He sighed. He turned to the microphone behind him again. "Hey."

"Yeah, it's Zig," he continued. "Okay, yes. You told me so. Now can you get him? No, don't burn him up. Just put him in one of the rooms*."

* (Because of course the Restaurant has bedrooms. It can be rather hard to call a cab for a passed out customer when there are no longer cabs in the universe, or roads, or homes for those you're calling the cab for)

"Yes. Thank you." John pressed the mic off.

A voice boomed from the loudspeaker throughout the room. It was definitely not John's voice. It was much more in charge than anything you can expect coming out of everyman John's voice. It's the kind of voice you expect from a higher-up, a superior, from the owner of a place as bizarre as this. The voice said, in calm apologetic manner, "We apologize for the earlier disturbance. Please, return to your meal. If you or a loved one is feeling sleepy, be assured that the Restaurant is a safe place to doze off for a second."

That done, John returned to watching the room. The gas were contained, but some might have seeped out. The Authoress and Cledwynn were carrying on as if nothing was happening. Mr. Trouble was, wait, was he trying to seduce the little girl? It didn't seem to be working. And Mr. Sports Jacket... was almost dropping into his plate. John went over to check on him.

"Are you alright, sir?" he asked the man, who did not look quite okay. John turned to Abigail... who was no longer Abigail, but has transformed into another woman entirely. Okay, sure. "I think he might've been affected by the sleeping gas."

---