Meanwhile, cradled in his own arms and smiling quietly in his dreams of looting, lechery, and liquor, the highwayman naps on at the base of the bar.

He grins a particularily large grin and his rapier, previously bent into a half-circle, twitches and then suddenly springs straight and true. He murmurs, "Ah, my little booboocitas! Yes, right there!", cradles himself a little tighter, and dreams on.