The Bar at the End of the Universe

It's been a whiiiile since Much last found his way to the bar. Of course, as soon as he got here, he saw free food. Of course, Much has not been here often enough to have learned the dangers of free food in Milliways, and even if he had, he'd probably take it anyway, because he is a glutton.

Now, of course, he is settled in a booth, staaaaring at the observation window with an expression of increasing fascination.

Come chat with the stoned outlaw.


[ooc: and beware of mun disappearing for brief periods over the next hour or so.]

The door opens, and an outlaw enters. He seems marginally bemused to find his imaginary piece of heaven reappear no in a barn this time, but in someone's cellar. He'd almost forgotten that dream he had about a bar where one could watch the stars die...

...yet here it is again! Just when he was getting really hungry. How lucky is that?? The outlaws are blessed today!

He slips in and to the magical but not evil Bar, where he collects a mug of ale and a plate of mutton, and settles into a booth to watch the observation window. He sprawls with his legs up on the booth seat as if he owns the place.

Lord Much has arrived!

And this being a dream -- a dream where good things happen -- perhaps every now and then, his eyes wander a bit, back to the door, maybe hoping to see someone walk through it, maybe registering just a little disappointment when it isn't the one he'd hoped to see again...

Father's Day? There is no such holiday in 1192. Not that he has any parents or children to celebrate it with anyway. Thus the outlaw, in continuing oblivious contentment, is lounging cheerfully in a booth with a mug of ale and a bowl of fruit, idly watching both the people and the window out to the universe.

Maybe he's watching you...

Much arrived yesterday to a friendly face and a ready explanation -- luckily for him, or he'd still believe himself to be in a dream, or dead. Consecrated biscuits indeed.

But now he has begun to believe more in the reality of the situation. His door, while it is THERE, still will not open for him, and so here he is, lounging in a booth with his feet stretched out on the bench, taking full advantage of the situation with a mug of ale and a bowl of cherries, dropping the pits into an empty teacup. And outside the window, the universe ends, and all is well, because apparently this is a dream where time stops until you wake up.

He could get used to this.

And so, the outlaw is available to be poked at by otherworlders. How exciting!