With that promise set in place, the night looked even brighter. Even if Much wasn't looking forward to amateur theatrics, he figured tonight was going to be a good night.
But Much was looking forward to amateur theatrics, with or without the free wine. He and the other guys had spent so many nights in the forest entertaining themselves in whatever ways they could that he couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with anyone else trying their hand at entertainment. And things like talent didn't really matter if you had enthusiasm or earnestness on your side, not really. He was immortal, and still life was to short to critisie people for trying.