*The nights were getting cooler and, thankfully, less moist, Andrew thought to himself as he sat on a public bench in the heart of Manchester. Next to him was a strange sort of not glass box which he'd been floored to learn is where people wait for a massive horseless conveyance to collect them and take them through town. More shocking was the casual ease with which the often tired and dead eyed people who rode the marvel would part with the dollar it took to ride it. In fact, one of the things he'd had the most trouble adapting to was how the kine could possess such wealth and objects that made their lives so much simpler and less dangerous then when he'd been among the Quick and yet everyone looked so empty. Sighing, he adjusted the collar of the hawaiin shirt he was wearing that night (his "good" clothes were being tended to by his landlady) and resumed watching passersby. It was a trick, of course. The object was to take in as much information on those he saw from simple observation while, at the same time, displaying no sign of actually watching anyone. To facilitate this, he chose to sprawl some, legs crossed forward and arms around his chest, and tilting his head back as if dozing*