[Simon isn't sure he'll be visiting the chapel regularly -- the makeshift altar in his bedroom has suited his needs thus far -- but he at least wants to see it before abandoning it to the living. Whatever holy power keeps some undead away from the place, it clearly doesn't work on Simon's kind: he strolls right in like it's his own neighborhood parish, hands in the pockets of his chinos as he looks around.

As a born and bred Catholic, it's a little disappointing: the blank secularism of it, the lack of the cross or the iconography he's so used to. He takes a pew in the front and kneels anyway, bloodless hands folded, praying in a quiet murmur: First Corinthians.]

For I am least of the apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain; but I labored more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.