A dog bark rolls through the air past Garrick as he walks onto Sutter's Landing. The sound brings a smile to the white eyed Nosferatu's face. Too bad dogs don't like the dead otherwise having one would be nice. Just to be safe Garrick crosses the road to be further from the dog park. Boot steps sound off rhythmically as he walks, a well worn light jacket with jeans completes the facade of someone who cares that its in the 50s.
Even if he was alive Garrick wouldn't mind the cold, brisk nights are good nights. Now they only bring grey memories of debauchery. Kind of like how wearing sunglasses at night makes everything darker greyish.