Seraph was riding shotgun with the master of glass. The church was in dire need of an upgrade to some windows, so of course the best in Chicago was sought for a top quality restoration to some panes that had lost their lustre. After agreeing to terms at Top Glass and a makeshift price, they decided it best they inspect the actual windows and finalise the details along with a plan of action.

The two had been travelling all but five minutes when they noticed a 1 ton pickup truck ahead of them that was pulled over and parked on the side of the road. It wasn't the car itself that caught their attention. It looked in good nick. It was the beautiful mare holding up traffic.

"Settle down you stupid beast!"

The man holding it's reins was tugging forcefully as he struggled to calm the majestic creature. She was white as snow, and feisty as all hell. For whatever reason, she was out on the road and unwilling to return to the trailer that was attached to the red '32 dodge.

"Well this is certainly something different." Seraph said as their vehicle came to a halt behind another. He had the window down and could hear the commotion, and poked his head out so he could see more clearly.

She looked uneasy and the man who Seraph assumed to be her owner seemed to be more of a problem than anything. His loud and rather aggressive tone, his constant pulling on the reins, it seemed obvious he was having a tough go of it. And that was just him.

The mare wasn't enjoying herself either. She actually seemed rather pissed.

Flint was imaging all the different biblical scenes he could do. It would be tough but he was looking forward to the challenge. He would have to read through some of the scriptures that Seraph was interested in having put up since it had been years since he had read one himself. The male blinked when they stopped and looked out the window. "Sure don't see that every day." He agreed, watching the pair. By the looks of it, the owner was going to get himself killed. Not that he cared really but it would be a shame if the horse got dirty over the tussle. He had an eye for beauty like any artist and to see something so beautiful be destroyed would be truly heartbreaking.

"I'll be right back." Flint told Seraph before getting out of the car. As he approached the man and the horse, he clicked his tongue. For some reason, it always got an animal's attention and the last thing he wanted to do was make thing worse by frightening the horse. "Hey, sir. Maybe you should calm down before you get trampled." He said, making sure the horse saw him as he knew the man surely did.

Seraph didn't say a word, but he thought some. Where the fuck was Flint off to, was the first and most prominent. After Flint had left the vehicle, Seraph just watched. And he basically had to. Flint was bloody driving.

As he kept close tabs on what was happening, Seraph slipped a hand into his inner jacket pocket and removed a flask. It was about that time. An hour or so since the last dabble.

After what seemed like some words being spoken from the master of glass, what came next had Seraph spray a mouthful of liquor onto the inner windshield and dashboard.

The horse looked like it was done with the antics. Who knows how long they'd been there, and what exactly caused the scene to begin with. What came to pass though would be a rather quick end to it.

Whomever was handling the horse seemed to have lost his concentration. Maybe it was Flint's presence. Seraph didn't know what was said to draw his attention, yet it had the man turn and step toward Flint, and to the left rear of the horse.

With a mighty kick, the horse clocked the man straight in the head. It was a swift double kick and caught the man unawares. One of the mare's neglected hoofs hit him directly in the temple, knocking him to the ground. His body started spazzing.

Seraph took another sip of the whisky, this time quickly gulping it down.

"What. The. Fuck." He said in a surprised and somewhat entertained manner, as if someone had pulled off a feat worthy of an instant replay. He then took another swig from the pocket sized metalic cannister. A cough followed, as part of the larger than usual mouthful slid down the wrong hole.

While still reeling from the incident and in the middle of a hearty coughing fit, Seraph excited the vehicle and made his way toward Flint and the horse. It was basically his fault they were where they were, so he wanted to make sure the death of one of Chicago's prominent businessmen wouldn't be another scar on his conscience. He had enough to drink to avoid as it was.

Seraph eventually came upon Flint, yet kept a decent distance as he was still dealing with the horse. Not knowing what else to do, he offered the cannister of liquor, silently, with a shake in his outstretched hand a few meters behind.

Flint mentally called the man an idiot. One never turned their back to a horse at the rear unless they had a death wish. He watched the body spasm, debating on whether he should cut the whole thing short and kill him. In the end, he decided the man deserved it for being cruel to something so beautiful. Not like he would be floundering about much longer anyway.

When Seraph approached him and held out the flask, Flint shook his head. Never was a good idea to mix alcohol with animals. The man motioned for Seraph to step back so the other wouldn't suffer the same fate as the man on the ground. He then made his way to the front of the horse. 

"Poor thing. Did the mean man hurt you?" He cooed at her, not even bothering to avoid stepping on the body when he did. As far as he was concerned, the man might as well be part of the road. He looked her over, looking for any serious damaged. Other than the shoes, she seemed fine. Other than her being upset of course. "Now, now. The mean man is dead. No need to continue your fuss." He said, holding his hand out to her, politely asking to pet her.

Seraph took the hint, and another sip of the liquor. It wasn't like the usual stuff he use to drink. Smoother. More complex. Money had a way of changing things. As he fastened the cap back on the flask he watched closely as Flint worked his magic.

Seraph had no idea about horses. He liked to watch the birds at play as a kid, but beyond that, animals weren't his strong suit. He even found it hard to keep his nerve around Takum. Such raw power frightened him. Even bolts of lightning had him in awe. Nature's beauty expressed in physical form. And with the display he witnessed moments ago, the horse also had him unnerved.

As things progressed with Flint, Seraph slid the flask into his inner jacket pocket. As he popped the collar up on his wollen jacket, his eyes caught onto something. The red dodge. If he could be of use, this was it.

Seraph made sure to walk well clear of the horse and headed for the dead mans truck. As he passed one of the cars that had stopped due to the commotion, the driver pressed down on the horn.

Flint glared at the man who was honking. Idoiot could spook the horse. He grumbled before gently patting her on the nose. "Ignore the noise. " He cooed, noticing Seraph was heading towards the trailer, he decided to follow. Taking the reigns, he tried to get her back into the trailer. "The mean man is dead so let's go for a little ride." He said, slowly leading the horse into the trailer. When she was all the way in, he shut it then followed Seraph up front. "Do you want to take her to the church and I'll follow you in the car?"

"You're all ideas, glass master. I'll meet you there." Seraph replied with a hint of sarcasm. He was now out of liquor and having to drive a horse around meant he'd be into his next drink that little longer.

Seraph opened the door and slid into the drivers seat. After turning over the engine with the keys still stuck in the ignition, he noticed rubbish on the floor of the passenger side to his right. What a slob, he thought, then remembered he was once a hobo and let it slide with a seasoning of shame.

His eyes fixated on the glove compartment. Without more thought, Seraph reached over and flicked open the little storehouse. Fuck it, no booze. But as he bent forward to have a closer look it hit him.

Marijuana. The smell smacked him upside the nostrils. And it was in a similar yellow envelope to what his guys in the church used when packing their product. A smile crept across his dial. Why the fuck not.

After a few minutes of idling, Seraph began to pull away from the shoulder of the road. The cars once backed up were now dispersed. Traffic was flowing again. And so were the good vibes. Back to the church. And to figuring out what the hell to do with this new possession.

On the opposite side of the road, the dead body still lay there. 'I wonder who that was', Seraph thought, as he caught a view of him in the trucks side mirror whilst he shifted the dodge into second gear.