"You remember what I said," he says, forever soothing. "God has nothing to do with it."

He looks upwards as though looking at Him, God, but nothing is up there except for the sky, absent of stars, murky with light pollution. He is on a stage, right now. He is a performer.

He looks back to Howard.

"What you want, Howard, is happiness." He purses his lips. "Safety. That is your salvation."