Rincewind practically runs out of the kitchen, glancing behind him fearfully. When nothing follows him, he slows down, only bumping into one other chair on his way back to the table. He hands around bread plates, cutlery and napkins. Much to his surprise, he doesn't drop anything or knock anything over. "You're dinners will be out shortly sirs," he announces breathlessly. "Will there be anything else while you wait?" His feet try to sidle away before they can answer. He glares down at them.