Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

Chills

John and George walked into the building, their surroundings quite eerie. They were notified that a friend of theirs, Billy Preston, had died.
Apparently in this exact building. However, Paul and Ringo had already entered, which was not surprising at all. Those two were never late.
The building smelled absolutely horrendous, not too shocking due to how an actual person had died in it. John grinned at the sight of Ringo and Paul, knowing that he would soon be able to flaunt how well he could be in this situation. George, however, stayed modest, as he always was. He seemed very creeped out by the whole event.
"Ah, don't worry George! I can promise to you, nothing bad is going to happen to any of us. Still, I can understand why you'd feel this way. It's quite hard to lose such a dear friend of ours, honestly," John sympathized, placing his hand on George's shoulder.
"It's not only that, John. I have this certain gut feeling, and it's not good at all. It's like, you're cold, but not actually cold. Chills, yes, that's one way to describe it. Yet, the sensation isn't actually there," George explained, a hint of actual fear in his voice.
"I'll have to check if there's any water around here. That might settle your nerves a bit, y'know, help you to get calmed."
"That may help," George faintly smiled.
John nodded, walking over to the kitchen and looking into the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of water and walked over to George, handing it to him almost immediately.
"Thanks, John," George said as he twisted the cap off of the bottle, drinking a lot of its contents as soon as he got it into his hands.
He twisted the cap back onto the bottle, taking a deep breath.
"Better?" John questioned.
"Better."
"Hey, Paul!" John called out. "You've been awfully quiet!"
Still, Paul had no reaction at all. He was talking to Ringo, and was visibly distressed. His words were practically incoherent and jumbled.