Chainsaw stalks closer, shrugging off his trenchcoat and tossing it over a nearby rock. Underneath: black jeans, black T-shirt, black workboots. The guy has a theme, apparently.

Oh, and the belt? Royal purple. (A theme and no sense of style.)

"Who said I was gonna hurt you?"

He reaches out-- gently, hesitantly even-- to brush the pads of two fingers over the scar on Abel's lip.

Then he smirks.

"Tell me where you got that," he orders.