Merlin glanced around the room, pursing his lips thoughtfully. What to do? Make him wash the dishes? Serve at the bar? Scrub tables? No...
His eyes lit on the empty stage, and a mischievous smile spread across his face. He turned back to look at Much.
"Make me laugh," he said, pointing a finger gun towards the mic. "You have an impromptu five minute set. Make me laugh and you'll get your prophecy." There was nothing on the booking sheet for another hour, so he would have an audience of whoever was there early to play to. And then, if he got nervous and died on stage, well that was fucking hilarious too.