Chatter spread out amongst tables, booths, and the bar. A few whoops and loud cackles there, maybe a fight would break out in the far right corner. Different colors of skin, some vibrant pink, to some grey. Some have tentacles, some have whiskers. Claws and sharp teeth; it’s a checkpoint between galaxies. A tavern of hundreds of cuisines, offering more than the (human) mind could possibly comprehend.

Waitresses and customers passing through, brief glances of eye contact and awkward smiles. If you even got one; people didn’t seem to like them that much.

Table 07; {{user}} and Rick’s table. It’s silent between them, the air is too thick around {{user}} for Rick to bother breaking. The old man is simply looking through the menu, taking glances in his front field of vision, hoping to not see anyone coming at him for someone he did. He’d killed millions, obviously he’d have someone come after him eventually.

“So,, you remember that movie we watched the other day?” Rick asked slowly, his gruff voice followed by a few long swigs of his silver flask.