The figure, who at this point was going by the alias Pridopus, stopped with comical suddenness. They weren't expecting to be spotted so...quickly. They turned around, eyes frantically scanning the area outside for an escape - but...oh. 

There was nothing outside.

The restaurant seemed to be floating atop a tiny plot of land in an endless void of stars, planets, and ancient galaxies. How- how were they even [i]breathing?[/i] 

Pridopus decided not to pursue it. One thing that they had learned from their frequent interstellar travels was that if you come across something that you do not understand, just don't think about it. Thinking too hard about things made you vulnerable, and besides, you were very, very unlikely to actually learn much of anything. Especially when you are liable to [i][b]POMPF[/b][/i] into a completely different plane of existence at any moment.

Pridopus spun back around, walked in. The door closed behind them with spine-rattling finality. Their hand had still not left their leather pouch. Their hood fell slightly over their eyes as they took a passing glance at it, and their other hand came back up to push it back. They looked back in the direction of the voice: a genial enough face, if unremarkable. They felt the tension from their shoulders loosen. 

And then their stomach growled again.