Rincewind stumbles out of the kitchen, obviously shoved from behind. When he sees who is seated in his station, he tries to turn around and go back in. The door wobbles a bit, but doesn't open, as if someone is holding it closed from the other side. Rincewind heaves a sigh and slowly approaches the table. The look on his face rather suggests one being led to the gallows. He stops near the table, out of arms reach but not nearly out of wand reach and takes his pad from a pocket. "Gentlemen," he squeaks. "Would you care to hear out specials? We have a very fine headcheese today."