A little more slowly than he’d intended, Chas followed Constantine up the stairs. If asked, he’d blame his slow pace on the fact that he was curiously looking around, but in fact he as merely pretty much noticed even less than before. Yet again, the boy was lost in thought, there were just too many questions running through his head: why they were here, where they were in the first place – and just what was everyone? Where there was one … ‘freak’, there sure were more. And that wasn’t the most comforting thought.
Prodding the door open with his foot, Chas slowly entered the bathroom before letting the door fall shut behind him. Not because he was necessarily such a privacy-loving person, but the overall company around? Definitely had invoked a whole new sense of that.
For a moment, he stood indecisively in the middle of the bathroom, as if whether or not to sit on the edge of the bathtub was the hardest decision he’d ever been faced with, before he turned to look at John instead. “Need help with that?” He asked offhandedly, tilting his head to the side. No matter how well practiced the routine, it was a tedious thing to do, especially on oneself.
Chas held back a comment about how John might just stab his eye out in his condition, then reached past him to open the cabinet. “I’d try cleaning it with those,” he muttered, not trying to sound like a know-it-all, just back to today’s overweighing feeling of concern. Pulling out a set of cotton swabs, he closed the cabinet again.
“..what’s wrong, John?” He didn’t look at the other at that, and he sure wasn’t talking about the cut. Or the headache, either, for that matter.