SCENE: REACHING OUT
March 1, Sunday
Piper enlists other people's help in figuring out what's upsetting her youngest child.

While at the manor, Phoebe senses that her niece, Prue, is having suicidal thoughts. (Prue has a theory that suicide will help her become more powerful because it will allow her access to whitelighter powers.) Phoebe negates Prue's theory: she explains that witches don't become whitelighters after they die and, even if they did, people who commit suicide can't become whitelighters. (At this point Phoebe is 3 months pregnant.)

Prue refuses to try therapy. Prue: "I'm not a crazy."

Piper defers to Prue's wishes, but still wants some way to help Prue before she shuts herself off completely. She decides to call Eva Nicholae (the gypsy) for help because Eva has a number of daughters, all of whom seem rather well-adjusted to a passive magical lifestyle. (The magic of a gypsy is based mostly on passive magic.) Eva offers her daughter Rina (Chris's friend) to spend time with Prue: to act like a "big sis" of sorts, hang out with her, mentor her, take her places, etc.

At first Prue is reluctant and stubborn. She feels the relationship is artificial and that Rina wouldn't really want to spend time with her if not forced to do so. But Rina is so open about what's going on (she doesn't try to pretend that the relationship is natural, but also won't let Prue push her away) that ultimately Prue's original discomfort dissipates.

Prue: You're only hanging out with me because my mom asked you to."

Instead of denying it, Rina: "Yeah, so? I could've said no, right?" Her matter-of-factness rebuffs a lot of Prue's attitude.

. . .

SCENE: FAMILY NIGHT
March 2, Monday
Chris attends Jake's Meet the Family Night after school.

Chris attends. One of Jake's classmates recognizes Chris from when he visited Jake in a previously written chapter. (At that point Chris had used "cousin" as his cover story.) Classmate to Jake: "Hey, cool, your cousin came? I didn't think to invite my aunt and uncle!"

Chris has to leave early because his mom has insisted that he come back on time. (This sentiment from Piper is a combination of feeling that Chris has neglected his schoolwork and a new level of overprotectiveness after the shocking revelation that Prue has been unhappy all this time.) When the time nears for Chris to leave, he bends down to let Jake know.

"Jake," he said, still holding the boy's hand, "I need to go in fifteen minutes."

Jake's smile vanished. "Why?" he asked, crestfallen.

"I, uh, kind of have curfew. I have to be home by nine o' clock."

Unexpectedly, Jake began to giggle. Chris stared at him in bewilderment. He'd expected Jake to be upset, certainly. What was so funny about what he'd said?

"Angels… angels have curfews?" Jake managed to get out between snorts. Chris couldn't help but chuckle along. Okay, he hadn't quite seen it like that.

"This one does," he admitted with a grin. He clasped his hands loosely around Jake's shoulders to recapture the seriousness for a moment. "Listen, I'm sorry for leaving like this. If I had my way, I'd stay all night long - I'd stay with you forever. You have to know that, all right?"

Jake shrugged. "Sure."

"You have to always remember it," Chris persisted, then gave Jake's shoulders one firm pat. "And I promise I'll pop by for a visit as soon as I can, 'kay, buddy?"

Jake nodded. He threw his arms around his angel's neck in a tight embrace, and when he pulled away Chris saw a quirked smile. "Sure, Chris. But you should go before you get grounded." Chris rolled his eyes, but grinned right back.

A few minutes after Chris leaves, Carmen arrives. Jake had thrown away the flyer from the teacher, but Carmen had noticed it in the trash. She is clearly very proud of Jake, and displays it in a conversation with Mrs. Apostle. (Mrs. Apostle hasn't met Carmen before because Carmen didn't come to the parent/teacher conferences earlier in the year.)

. . .

SCENE: LUKE
March 7, Saturday
Chris has to go to the emergency room. While there, he meets another version of himself: a six-year-old Chris with leukemia. This version's nickname becomes "Luke" (short for "leukemia")

While Chris is playing football with some friends, the Elders jingle for him. The call distracts Chris, so he gets tackled and ends up falling on his wrist. Since it's a normal injury, Piper decides it's not fair to disturb Paige for it. Instead, she drives Chris to the emergency room, where they find out his wrist has been badly sprained.

Chris waits in the patient room while Piper signs necessary papers. In the empty bed beside Chris, he sees a version of himself as a boy, with his feet over the edge, swinging back and forth. He's wearing a hospital gown and has no hair, which makes his eyes look even bigger and brighter than they are.

Boy: "Hello, mister."

Chris: "Uh, hi…"

Boy: "My name's Chris. What're you in for?"

Chris: "Sprained wrist. You?"

Boy: "Cancer."

Chris froze, stared at the spot long after the boy's body had faded away and the eyes, wide and round, had disappeared into nothing.

In the Valley, the other Chrises gather around the boy, trying to decide what to call him.

Demon: "We can call him Hairless. Or Leukemia. Nobody'll get confused there."

Mutt: "That's a long name."

Perry: "Luke, then." Luke is very good-natured and a pacifist at heart, so he doesn't mind the nickname. (He's more like Leo than Piper in his timeline.)

Mutt gets bored of the new addition and turns to Demon, whom he has taken a liking to. Mutt to Demon: "Wanta play Go Fish?"

Demon: "No."

Mutt: "How 'bout War?"

Demon (annoyed): "Why do you like me so much?"

Mutt: "'Cuz I can trust ya."

Demon (snorts): "I'm a demon."

Mutt: "I know. It's them good ones ya can't trust—'cuz ya never expect it when they turn 'round and stab ya. Them demon ones ya know gonna do it."

Demon: "You know what? I like you, kid. You know your stuff."

Luke is sitting on his bed in the Valley, playing with his toy racecars. A shadow falls over him; it's Lord Christopher. Luke looks up and offers him a racecar. "Wanna play?"

Lord Christopher: "You are unbelievably naïve."

Luke: "Why? 'Cuz I know I'm gonna die and I'm not afraid?"

Lord Christopher is surprised by Luke's blunt response, which reminds him of his little brother.

. . .

A memory from Luke's world:
SCENE: LUKE'S WORLD
March 18, 2010
[Age: 5]
The day he is diagnosed with leukemia.

Piper sat with her head in her hands, clutching together the pieces of herself that had begun to unravel the day she saw the first cluster of bruises along her son's spine. Since then she had come to expect the black and blue appearing randomly on his formerly unblemished skin. At first she had ignored it, passed it off as her active little boy's forgetfulness. He was a quick healer at any rate, she had reasoned at the time. She had even refused to let Paige heal him. Normal injuries called for normal treatment, after all. But after a couple of weeks, she began to grow worried when new ones continued to pop up. The past two weeks had been doctor after doctor, test after test, until their trusted pediatrician had frozen her with a single word: Oncologist.

Now her son lay on a mattress far too large for his small body, swimming in white blankets. He had grown so pale that his mother hardly recognized him as the boy whose skin used to alternate between cherry red and peeling tan from all the time he spent in the sun. He was asleep, chest rising and falling at a steady pace. The dark mop of hair splayed across his forehead was a stark contrast to the white of his skin. Gently, she cupped one of his frail hands in her own, cradling it as she wished she could the boy himself.

"Mrs. Halliwell?"

She turned, eyes glistening, toward the tall white lab coat. When she rose to greet him, the doctor nodded to her with a grim smile that made Piper's heart drop to her gut. He was a heavyset man with a round face. Beneath the collar of his lab coat, his striped button-down shirt was white and blue. Piper squinted at the nametag pinned to his chest: Dr. Kimmerick.

"Did you get the test results?" she asked. Her fingers fumbled with each other, intertwining as she tried to reign in her concern. She was almost heartsick after the endless wait in unknown territory. Now she was about to find out whether or not her child had a disease that would in all likelihood carry him to death's door. Somehow, though she had pined so long for answers, she almost wished he still did not know.

"Yes, Mrs. Halliwell." The doctor glanced down at the clipboard held firmly in both hands, as if the papers clipped to it would tell him more than just what to say—but how to say it. "Unfortunately—"

Piper didn't hear anything after that. Words floated to her—"cancerous"—"malignant"—"radiation"—but really, hadn't she already known, from the moment she had risen to greet him? Hadn't she already sensed this, weeks ago, as only a mother could?

Piper was alone. At some point the doctor must have left, though she didn't remember it. She was sitting again in the plastic chair beside Chris's bed. Her hands were clasped on top of his blanket, trembling.

She looked up when she felt a warm hand cover hers. Chris was sitting on his knees, staring at her through his bangs. His eyes were bright. Compassionate. Wise beyond their years.

"Don't be sad, Mommy," he said. "It'll be okay."

. . .

SCENE: KRIS
March 20, Friday
Another version of Chris appears. This Chris is a fifteen-year-old girl who spells her name with a "K" ("Kris").

Chris and Dwight are in the hallway at school. Dwight is complaining about Mr. Garcia, the biology teacher. Dwight: "If you ask me, Mr. Garcia should get a sex change because he is the perfect bi—"

Someone sweeps past Chris's shoulder, distracting him from Dwight's rant. It's a girl their age. At the end of the hall, she turns around, and winks at Chris. Her body fades as she turns the corner, leaving a single eye, caught in a perpetual blink until it too popped out of existence. Chris stares at the spot she just stood.

Chris: "Oh. My. God."

Rant interrupted, Dwight glances over. Dwight: "What?"

Chris speaks slowly, not really sure he believes it—or wants to. He remembers how he felt when he realizes there was a demonic version of him, but this was much worse. Chris: "Remember when I told you about that power I have to see other versions of myself?"

Dwight: "Yeah."

Chris: "Well, I just saw one."

Dwight: "Is that bad?"

Chris: "Well… I was a… well, you were talking about sex changes, and my powers are generally based on what's going on around me, so…"

Dwight's eyes widen, and then he begins to laugh. "You were a girl? Were you hot?"

Chris (shudders): "You are so disturbed."

Kris's arrival in the Valley [this scene is way too dramatic, tone it down]:

The Valley was bright today, with vague white clouds coasting the span above its inhabitants. Last time had been light as well, but more of a muted daylight, as if its carrier were trying not to disturb the others who found it bothersome. This day shone in defiance, daring others to complain. As he watched the door, Lord Christopher rolled his eyes, shading them behind one raised arm. He had a feeling he would take an immediate dislike to this bratty newcomer, whoever it was.

When the space beside Ian's "room" began to shimmer, Demon let out a sigh of relief. He was really glad the newcomer would not sleep beside him. He was perfectly satisfied with his current neighbors, thank you very much. Perry kept mostly to himself, and that Mutt—well, he wasn't so bad. For an eight-year-old.

The air tasted of a familiar sweetness, which each Chris placed in his mind, linking it to a memory. For Mutt it resurrected thoughts that it never occurred to him to remember, days spent climbing his jungle gym, nights with a stomach full and warm and satisfied—but at the same time pining for something. He couldn't pinpoint what exactly, but he knew enough to miss it.

Merlin fought against the memories that played before his eyes as if to mock him. Nights before the divorce, when his father had been home to tuck him to bed, to kiss his forehead. Phone calls to his dad, telling him about his day, asking when he could visit. Viciously, he swiped them away, a glare folding over his face to deter any other such memories from disobediently cropping up. Lord Christopher frowned into the expanse, eyes roving over the Valley. Inwardly, he wondered what he was searching for. Would he know when he had found it?

The scent reminded him of his little brother and, strangely, of that foolish little version of himself dying of leukemia. It brought to mind something else, too, a taste of a memory just out of his reach. He looked deeper but met only a well made of black marble that glistened with the promise of hundreds of lost moments. The emptiness left him with an ache just below his heart, soft and pulsing and constant. It struck him through the tightness in his chest; the dryness of his throat; and the sudden, inexplicable wetness of his eyes.

The others were in similar states, locked in one memory or another. All but Demon, a lonely figure watching them all. As his eyes groped the faces around him, he felt himself grow somewhat uneasy. The scent was one of flowers and of a hot oven, of waking up from a nightmare in somebody's arms. It was the scent of motherhood and overprotection, with a hint of childish defiance sprinkled in for good measure. It thrust them all into such memories, whilst Demon himself had experienced nothing of this. Even Mutt, poor, motherless Mutt, knew it well. To Demon, the smell was unfamiliar.

As the taste in the air began to fade, the Valley's door started to glow. Its pale lavender hue spread steadily from the bottom upward. Tendrils of it curled around the doorknob, which twisted and allowed the door itself to creak open. Out of it stepped a fiery face, long brown hair, and defiant eyes of emerald. She stepped forward commandingly, shoulders shoved backwards. As she surveyed her surroundings, the others gave her a once-over of their own. Lord Christopher looked disdainful; Demon, bored. Most of the others had an air of mild curiosity about them. A girl—they had never had one of those before.

"Lemme guess," Demon drawled, "Is your name… Chris, by any chance?" A slow sneer captured his face.

"Yeah," the female responded, an edge to her voice. "That's Kris—with a K." She said it with the finality of someone who had announced the same statement often in the past.

Lord Christopher defused her bravado in a cold, sneering tone, though his face remained unmoving. "Well, that's a relief. I suppose if it's spelled with a 'K,' then we will most certainly know to whom we are referring when we speak the name."

She turned to face the speaker, a look of distaste already blooming across her face. When their clashing green eyes met, both could tell this was the start of a distinctly unfriendly relationship. Annoyed, Kris demanded, "And who are you exactly?"

Lord Christopher's upper lip curled. The others, who had known him long enough by now, could practically see his mind forming the branding word: Idiot. "Just like everyone else here," he said, speaking slowly as one would to a child, "I am Chris. I would have assumed that by this point it would have been obvious." The word clung to his lips, glaring at the foolish girl to whom they had been directed. When she opened her mouth to bite back, he added, "I am called Lord Christopher."

Kris's eyebrows rose in incredulity. "There is no way I'm calling you 'Lord' anything, buster."

Lord Christopher turned away, unconcerned. "It isn't necessary," he said. "You need not speak to me at all." He returned to his desk without another thought to the newcomer.

Kris stood with one of the younger members of the Valley. The others had departed, returning to what had had them engaged prior to the latest arrival. Now, they were the only two left at the large, round table placed between them all. She sat in a simple-looking chair. Its only oddity was its color: a bright, pulsating, vibrant red. To her right, on a muddy-colored chair, sat the boy who had agreed to explain everything to her.

"It's…"—she hesitated—"Ian, right?" The boy nodded.

"Mom thought my full name was Christian when she adopted me," he explained.

"You're adopted?"

"Yep. Mom and Dad and Thomas are gypsies." He blushed, embarrassed of being so different from his family, but tried to draw himself up at the same time. "I'm a witch," he added. "Mom's been teaching me what she can of Wiccan magic, with my powers and all." He gave half of a shrug.

"Well, that sounds pretty cool," Kris offered. "So how long have you been here?"

He frowned, eyebrows scrunched over small, lively eyes. "Dunno," he admitted. "That's not really how this place works. I came before Merlin. That's that guy over there." He pointed over to the far end of the Valley, where a sullen teenager was lighting up a cigarette.

Kris: "And Luke, is he the youngest? He seems sweet."

Lord Christopher's space was near enough for him to hear the conversation without paying it his full attention. Without looking up from the folder and notebook open on his desk, he remarked, "He is naïve."

"And you're eavesdropping," Kris snapped. Standing, she dragged Ian away from the table to the furthest corner of the Valley. "LC is such a jerk," she sniffed. She refused to call him by his given nickname, so he would just have to get used to LC.

Ian: "Nah, he's just all tough on the outside. He likes Luke best of everyone. He's got a soft spot for him."

Kris: "He's got a funny way of showing it."

Kris tries to befriend the other young versions of Chris, but Mutter isn't nearly as receptive as Ian. (Mutt: "Beat it, Girl.") Luke, on the other hand, is much more open to her presence. They get into a pleasant conversation.

When Kris finds out the meaning behind Luke's name (that he's named after the disease that's killing him), she's horrified. Kris: "How can you let them call you that?"

Luke doesn't seem at all bothered. "At least they don't call me Baldy. I kinda like Luke."

Kris gripes about it a bit more, but eventually they get on to other topics of conversation. Kris: "So what sort of powers do you have?"

Luke: "I can orb and heal." He chuckles. "Everybody says I'm the most whitelighter of us all. I got telepathy, too, but I don't like to use it. It's not polite to read people's minds without asking first. That stuff's private."

Kris smiles.

Luke: "Lord Christopher says that's stupid."

Frowning, Kris demands, "Why do you let LC"—she stresses the nickname—"talk to you like that? Someone should stop it."

Luke only smiles, as if Kris has overlooked something that makes her reaction foolish. "Nah, he just says that stuff."

Kris: "You don't think he means it?"

Luke: "No, no, he means it. He doesn't lie 'bout stuff like that. But he's just saying it 'cuz he likes me. Otherwise he wouldn't care enough. 'Sides, naïve's not so bad as stupid or being a meanie."

Kris: "Huh?"

With a private smile, Luke says, "Never mind."

. . .

SCENE: BONDING
March 20, Friday
Later that same day, a bonding moment between two unlikely Chrises: innocent Luke and warlord LC. Luke has a nightmare and LC comforts him in his own stoic way.

"LC?"

LC was sitting hunched over his desk, poring over a notebook and scribbling furiously inside it. The dim light on his desk threw the rest of his area into shadow, which was exactly how he liked it. His hand paused over the pale, blue lines of his notebook, and his head came up. He had to blink to readjust his eyes and, while doing so, cracked his neck from one side to the other in order to loosen tense muscles. Then, he glanced to his left, where the soft question of a voice had come from.

Luke stood at the border between their two spaces, his toes just barely overstepping the invisible line. Somehow, though Luke's space was always bright, the light never seeped to LC's side; just as, conversely, not one shadow crossed to him. He wore his red racecar pajamas. Normally big eyes were squinted shut. In his arms he had gathered up half of his blanket. The rest trailed behind him like a thick and rumpled walkway. Tucked safely beneath one arm was his trustee teddy bear.

LC sighed. "Luke," he acknowledged. "Why are you awake?" Luke didn't turn the question back on him. Even without telepathy, he wouldn't have had to.

The boy inched across the line, sending a cautious look back over his shoulder as if to make sure the light was still there. LC set down his pen and turned in his chair to face the boy. If Luke was willing to leave the light of his room for the scary darkness on this side, something had to have really scared the boy. LC chose to say nothing, however, until Luke voiced his thoughts himself.

In a small voice Luke admitted, "I had a nightmare." He stepped bravely, moving farther from his own haven and deeper into the dreaded darkness.

LC watched the boy's eyes shift around. The kid was too free with his emotions. He had no concept of concealing his fears from others. LC had to wonder if he were capable at all. On second thought, he was pretty sure not.

Shaking his head, he muttered a quick incantation and watched a soft but steady light flair up in the middle of the room. He pulled a face—he kept his space dark for a reason, after all—but Luke's face brightened with relief. The light fell across the pale skin of his bald scalp. It tucked into the reservoirs of his eyes.

Smiling tiredly, Luke dropped his blanket to the floor and clamored onto LC's bed. He settled himself comfortably on the maroon mattress, sitting on his knees. Eyebrows raised, LC stood and joined the boy at the edge of the bed.

[LC thinks of his own nightmares.]

LC stared at his desk as he said, "You let a little nightmare scare you?" His voice came out more harshly than was necessary, but Luke knew well enough not to take it to heart. "Nightmares aren't real. They can't hurt you." Finally, he looked up and captured Luke's eyes with his own, two pairs of the same color that were somehow still worlds apart. He leaned toward Luke and tapped a finger to the boy's bare temple. "It's all just in your head. None of it is real."

Biting his lip, Luke broke his gaze away and stared into his lap. His fingers twined together in what LC identified as deep thought. All was silent for a few moments, but LC did not want to intrude on the boy's pensiveness. He waited.

At length, Luke murmured in a soft, thoughtful voice, "But we…" His eyes spanned the Valley and then returned to LC's unmoving face. "All of us, I mean," he clarified unnecessarily. "We're all just inside someone's head." He spoke slowly, as if contemplating the words even as they left his mouth. His next question sounded like a plea: "Aren't we real?"

. . .

SCENE: BIANCA
March 26, Thursday
Demoriel hires a she-demon to attack Chris.

Demoriel is speaking to a female demon who looks to be nineteen or twenty. "I believe acquiring powers is a specialty of yours?"

The demoness smirks. "Do you have a specific power in mind?"

Demoriel: "A specific witch, actually. With powers that he could never begin to comprehend, powers that are squandered on him. I want you to get them for me. Your target is elusive and well-protected, but I have the utmost faith in your abilities."

Demoness: "Who is it?"

Demoriel: "He is the second son of the eldest Charmed One." The demoness arches her eyebrows but doesn't respond. Demoriel continues, "You're a trained assassin, so I expect nothing short of perfection from you."

Demoness: "Which is precisely what you will receive." She bows her head and sweeps her arms outward in a show of submission, revealing a bird-shaped birthmark on the inside of her wrist. While still in this position, she shimmers out of the cavern.

March 31, Tuesday
After school, the demoness (Bianca) attacks Chris and Ms. Gowell. That night, in the Valley, Chris experiences the memories of how other versions of himself met Bianca: Perry, LC, and Demon (which was already described in scene "Demon's World").

Marcy flattened herself up against the wall and was surprised when Chris did the same. He usually didn't show fear when dealing with demons. This unusual display caused her fear to spike. "Chris, what is she?" she questioned out of the corner of her mouth.

"Phoenix," he replied quickly. "Deadly demonic assassins. They're hybrids—part witch, part demon—which is what makes them so powerful." He relayed all this information without taking his eyes off the advancing teenage demon.

"And is there any chance that this particular demon-witch would prefer to be a good witch instead of an evil demon?" she asked with false hope, staring at the girl's impassive expression.

"Yeah," Chris remarked dryly. "Slim to none."

The demoness paused, smirking at the pair of them. "I'll tell you what," she said in a voice as cool as running water. "Since I'm in such a good mood today, I'll be generous. My target is Chris"—she pointed at the teenager, eyes on Marcy—"so you can go."

"How did you know is name?" Marcy asked, doing anything she could to delay the attack. Inside, her heart was racing, but she forced her voice not to waver.

"I know everything there is to know about him," the assassin said. "A Phoenix does her homework before she attacks. That's why we never fail."

Conceited much? Chris thought to himself with a soft snort.

"Now hold on a second," he said in a mocking tone. Inwardly, Marcy groaned. Chris opening his mouth was a sure way of making a bad situation worse. "You know so much about me, and I don't even get a name? How am I going to know who to vanquish for pissing me off after you shimmer away with your tail feathers between your legs?"

"You seem pretty confident in you abilities, Whitelighter," she spat.

"Likewise," he shot back, then persisted, "Care to share a name?"

The assassin's lips curled. "Bianca. Remember it well, whitelighter. It is the name of your successor." She conjured an athame in her right hand and started towards him.

"Yeah, I'll bet," he grunted, taking a wary step toward his attacker, fists clenched at his sides. She threw the athame, but he dodged it with ease.

"Is that the best you've got?" he taunted. He waved his hand, and she flew backwards into a wooden table in the corner of the room. Her weight caused the table to snap in half. Instantly, she was back on her feet. Then, just as quickly, the air around her rippled and she disappeared. Marcy released a breath, until she noticed that Chris had remained tense. A moment later the assassin had shimmered behind him, hand around his throat.

"This is too easy," she sneered, tightening her grip. "I thought a Halliwell would be a challenge. Perhaps your brother would have been a more formidable foe."

Without thinking, Marcy grabbed a splintered piece of wood from the broken table and used it to smack the back of Bianca's knees. The Phoenix's legs gave out, and she dropped to the floor, releasing Chris, who stumbled away from her. He sucked in breath after grateful breath. With each release, it got less painful to breathe.

"Thanks," he croaked. Marcy smiled weakly at him. The piece of wood in her hands clattered to the floor as she rushed to him.

"We should go," she said. He nodded, touched her shoulder, and orbed her to safety.

That night, talking to his other selves, Chris is surprised to learn that many of them recognize Bianca. Some of them even know her personally. When Chris arrives at the Valley, Perry is in a brooding mood. He refuses to talk about how he knows Bianca, but the Valley walls extract a memory from the first time he ever met her. (Evil Wyatt had sent the most skilled people out to bring his brother back to him unharmed; Bianca was the first to find him, although he escaped.) Chris notices the similarities between his own first encounter with Bianca and Perry's, but when he voices this point Perry becomes even more ill-tempered. (Chris doesn't know about the rest of Perry's history with Bianca: falling in love, proposing, etc.)

Meanwhile, Demon is grinning, making clear that his encounters with Bianca were rather a bit of fun for him - aka, casual sex (which began the second time he met her, the first being when he bought her a drink at the demonic pub). Perry takes a distinct disliking to that.

Perry (irritably): "She's not just some floozy for you to mess around with."

Demon: "Maybe not in your world—"

Perry: "Shut up."

Demon is enjoying this rare event. It's not often that Perry loses his temper. Demon: "Oh, chill. We both enjoyed ourselves. On more than one occasion, I should add."

Perry scowls. Chris leaves feeling more confused than when he arrived.