Chase was still trying to get used to the fact that he couldn't trust his doors, anymore. Maybe it was a good thing. He'd been recuperating and off-work for the last two weeks and he was well enough to be walking around without crutches, but he wasn't well enough to do much. So wandering through a door and finding the hotel before trying to get home and finding himself in a curling rink is pretty awkward.

Then again, so is someone asking about being 'vice-skip'. "I think they have another name for it," he says, wondering why no one cares that he's near the bench. Then again, it's not like he knew there were rule books for strange parallel door dimensions. "Not sure what it is. Curling's not exactly my sport."