[Oh, there he is. At the sound of the remark, Death (or Bastian, rather, he's not really here on Official Business, though he'd be the first to argue that barbecue chicken poppers are the utmost in official business) turns and zeroes in on the table, his surprisingly youthful face breaking into a wide smile.]

Hey! You look terrible, what're you doing here? Did you come for the chicken poppers? You know it's funny because people say they're to die for.

[Like an old friend, he slides into the other side of the booth and promptly makes himself at home. He's probably neither, but you know what, who's going to tell him otherwise.]

I'm pretty sure that's, you know, figurative. But you never know!