"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 [i]here[/i]."

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.