A saint!

Two days later…

In a vast desert, Christopher stood outside a white shuttle, staring into the distance.

He wore a brown trench coat, a scarf around his neck and slid both hands inside his coat's pockets.

Placed on his head was his signature hat, which matched his brown boots.

Smoke from his cigarette drifted into the distance and dispersed.

"Do you know who he's waiting for?" Sam asked.

He stood at the window gazing at Christopher while Nila stood beside Derek, who sat on the dining table.

"Ask him." Derek's unhelpful answer made Sam snort. "I wasn't asking you." He said.

"I know, but the old man doesn't really speak much." Derek replied calmly.

"Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?" Sam retorted. He scoffed and glanced at Derek, who also stared back at him.

The current Derek couldn't match previous handsome looks. He was actually a bit ugly as his face was covered with scars, with an eye being dull silver.