"Hey." Balthazar's friend, the lanky, shabby, middle-aged guy with the guitar, looks up and gives a friendly smile. He's got the cup of dubious booze in his hand by then, but he hasn't tasted it yet, made wary by the angel's warning. "Candles, music, drinks, it's practically a party."

He hasn't seen much of Chuck, even though he's couch-surfing in the same house, now, so he's making even more than his usual effort to be inviting.