It does not! It looks very non-useless!

And occupied!

"- hi."

'. . . Hello.'

They step through and close the door behind them.

They're - a person, tall, wearing a fancy jacket and half a ballgown, cut out in the front to show off shiny pants and knee-high boots.  Their mouth doesn't move when they speak.

"Uh, welcome to Milliways. - it's not mine or anything, I got here same as you."

'Whose is it?'

"The bar is sapient but she calls whoever controls the door and other stuff 'the Landlords'."

'Are the Landlords around to be met?'

"It does not seem so."

They start walking around and looking at things.

There is a window beyond which stars are exploding brightly. The bar itself, unstaffed and with no drinks on the shelves beyond. Stairs. A hallway, leading most proximately to a bathroom. Booths and tables with benches and chairs respectively.

They occasionally run their fingertips over one thing or another; after a few minutes they approach the bar.  'Is there a purpose to this place?'

I'm not aware of an overarching goal, but I serve drinks - first one is free - and sell objects to patrons.

They make an inscrutable sort of gesture before correcting it to a nod.

Can I interest you in a beverage?

'You can.'

Here is a glass of something black with white foam.

"So what's your name, I'm Cam," says Cam.

'Ancorabenilisifentiliane.'  They take a sip.  'It is nice to meet the two of you.'

"Ancora- sorry, I didn't catch all of that -"

'Ben-i-lis-i-fen-til-i-a-ne.'

He writes it down this time. "Nice to meet you."

Sip.  'What are you; humans can't have wings by themselves and you are not one of mine.'

"We're called demons. I used to be a human, though, and I could put wings on a human."

'One of mine could put wings on a human who wasn't mine as well, but then that human would be mine, a little.  Who made demons?'

"It's not clear anyone did. What are you exactly?"

'An artist.'