It had been a big week for Much, though, lately, he wasn't having any other type. Two nights ago he'd gone over to Freyja's and two nights before that he was at Aphrodite's, and things were good, they were good, they were both such excellent people. And lays. No! Not that he was thinking about them like that, god no. But both nights had been deeply satisfying and left him feeling very good about all his choices.
And if he wondered about Belinda, and what she was doing, and when she was going to call him again, then... then he wondered, and it made him feel full of cracking electric sexual energy and under that, a deeper, warning twang of guilt. But! It motivated him to get out there more and meet more women and they had a good time and he had a good time and no one was getting hurt, so, the warning twang was probably nothing and could continue being ignored while everything was still fine.
Much didn't let himself think about what it meant that he was giving himself this flavour of pep talk more than once a day.
Luckily, there wasn't all that much time to think about that sort of thing. He had drinks to make and filthy words in Old Norse to learn to make Freyja laugh with later (laugh, and maybe more?) and a bar to keep clean and - his face split into a grin when he recognised Qebhet - free drinks to make. "Hey! Welcome! It is so good to see you, it's been so long! I'd hug you, but," he pointed at the rather large bar in the way, but leaned over it toward her anyway, weight on his elbows. "What brings you in tonight?"