A bike? Well, look at that. Cain arches his eyebrow in half-and half approval and oh really. Because as bikes go, that's one weird-looking one. The front wheel is about five times too small, for starters - but if it ain't broke, he sure won't fix it.

"Got caught in fake rain, ended up singing and dancing up and down the curb for a bit." He shrugs, not concerned enough to make a big deal of it.

"I got an instant-dry-spell right after, though."

Well. Instant, maybe, but not all inclusive. He brushes his hand over his hair, which just happens to be a bit damp. Hat in hand, though. He never leaves the house without it, after all.

"I think I'll have something hot to drink with lunch. Want a coffee? My treat."