When he hears her call out, he thinks about walking straight past and pretending not to have heard. But the courtesy in him, while not yet refined to art, is still strong and demands to be taken seriously. So he pauses, and gives her a curious stare, before he lifts a hand to return the greeting. The sleeve of the coat slides even more, making him a rather pathetic sight.

“Nothin’ in particular, mam’selle,” he says, though his voice is low and almost uncertain. He tries to stand up straight and not hunch as he is wont to do, to look like he knows exactly what he’s talking about and where he’s going. “Just… takin’ a stroll.”

That’s legit, right? It sounded good in his head at least.