The fog is thick outside, somehow thicker than he remembers it being, and the buildings are barely visible through the gloom, their tops lost in the gray. He can't see more than about twenty yards in front of them, but he had to find the closest church in this enough times the last time this happened, and he thinks he remembers how now.

"Stick close," he mutters, knowing that Neil won't do anything else.

Their footsteps are weirdly loud in the fog, as if they're echoing off something unseen. Maybe the air itself.

"This feel different to you?"