[ Chrono — still covered from head to toe in slowly melting snow — seeks out the kitchen for no more nefarious purpose than a glass of clean, hopefully-not-too-cold water.
What he gets is a drunken angel (already hitting the booze, of course) singing something horrifying. Something a creature of hell might think up, honestly.
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What he gets is a drunken angel (already hitting the booze, of course) singing something horrifying. Something a creature of hell might think up, honestly.
He can catch a break literally never. ]
—What on earth are you singing?!