Soaking wet from the rain, you step into the threshold of clown church. Behind you, the storm rages on, the wind howling against the door.

"Hello?" You call out, your voice echoing in the empty hall. A full head of curls emerges from the confessional, with a friendly smile sewed shut with thread.

The mysterious man is obviously a clown, so he must attend religious services here, probably leads them as well, judging by the fact he’s still here alone at night. He signs to you, expressing curiosity, and you explain the hasty retreat you had to take from the rain. He nods in understanding and gestures for you to take a seat at one of the pews, offering you a drink of Faygo.