It's raining hard, lightning streaking and thunder rumbling.
Chas walks the cold, grimy streets, alone, soaked, freezing, and therefore, understandably upset. There's a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket beside a damp, crumpled handful of bills that John sent for Chas' licorice, but the Super Market is closed and the gas station's out of Twizzlers.
"Shit," he mutters, kicking a rock.
He wanders down the street aimlessly. There's no reason to hurry home. Nothing to do there, anyway.
When Chas looks up, he's standing in front of a church; its doors are open wide, and a soft light is spilling onto the stairs. Involuntarily, he ascends the stone steps and goes inside.
It's eerily silent and empty, but Chas decides to stay for a minute to dry off.
He sits down in one of the pews and leans back. He's seen quite a bit of shit; he figures a little time in the Lord's house can't hurt him.
For a moment, all is still and Chas smiles as his anger turns to happiness.
But it soon turns to blind fear when Balthazar sits down beside him.