The bar, it seems, has been reserved, if such things are strictly possible at Milliways, by a gathering of gods. 

This would be a problem, except they are so old now that they are closer to decoration than deities, and merely add to the flavor of the proceedings. It is, at least for the moment, something like Saturnalia, and a young man crowned in laurel seems to glow faintly from within, though they may well be the alcohol. 

Behind the bar, watching the apparent gods with a fixed smile, is a skeleton who is not quite the color of human blood. He is, apparently, a human skeleton, other than the small horn protruding from his skull, animate and a wiping a glass in a too-perfect imitation of a human bartender. 

Near him is a sign announcing that Bar is on break, and that his name is Sam, and to ask him if one has found oneself lost. 

He is not from Milliways, but it is clear that he is one of the people who has found themselves here, at a crossroads, with no path to take.