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[h1]John Valentine[/h1]
Physical State: Healthy
Mental State: Sane


BGM
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xedrJaHGxvY[/youtube]
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The little store off of Church Street was a rock. Not in the literal sense of the term, no. But in the sense that no matter what chaos or disorder existed outside, still the store stood defiant and firm. Jars of Oreos, bottles of Dr. Pepper,  Baby Ruth bars and all other sorts of sugary delights lined the shelves of “Valentine’s”. Black Jack licorice gum and cigarettes could be purchased at the counter. The store was a welcome haven indeed for those seeking solace from recent events in the form of sugar or smoke. 

John Valentine, the store’s proprietor and only employee was currently explaining to a rather confused old lady that no, not all buildings on Church Street were indeed churches, and that yes the building just across the street was indeed a church, but once again no she could not say her prayers here but if she wanted a candy bar then he would be pleased to help her out otherwise he would have to ask her to take her business elsewhere, such as the church right across the street that he previously mentioned. [color=f26522]“Look lady, stop calling me St. Valentine and get out of here if you’re not going to buy anything.”[/color] He honestly had half a mind to direct her to the graveyard next door, God knows she looked like she’d wind up there in a week or two anyways. The old woman stared at him with her mouth agape for a few moments before wordlessly shuffling out the door into the cold winter air, making her way towards Christ Church. 

Needless to say, business had been a bit slow.

What with a few of his regular patrons ending up in the crazy house and half of his new potential customers turning out to be confused old people thinking that his building is a church, sales hadn’t exactly been the best recently. Still, John wasn’t going to let a few minor setbacks keep him from doing his job. Which is why he chose to not join the crowd of people at Miskatonic University listening to that fool on the roof blather about the end of times as he’d been doing all morning long.