It never takes long for food here to disappear: the kids aren't starving, but they're growing and hungry and the stew evaporates in less time than he'd ever have thought possible. After that, he's pressed into service by the kids, and it's nice, it's good, it's homey in a way he will never truly understand -- but it's getting late and though Michael's been quiet, he seems edgy.

Understandable. He'd like to get back, himself, if only to find some painkillers for his shoulder, so he excuses himself and goes to the back porch, lighting a cigarette as he does.

It's while he's waving out his match and opening the door that he realizes he's looking into Milliways -- seems like the bar's following him around now, just as faithful as any dog could be.

"Nice to see you," he tells the place, before closing the door and wandering back inside, hands in his pockets, to find Michael.

"I seem to have found our way back."