Graverobber simply stared for a few moments, watching people move back and forth--even the clothing was slightly different. Casual. Brighter. Everything in this world seemed brighter yet he distinctly remembered neon tones in the hair of many, many of his 'nightwalkers,' as it were.
It was because of the blondes, he noticed: something as simple as the fact that one third of the population were bottle blondes piqued his interest. It was nice to see that even here everyone was obsessed with appearance.
They looked a lot happier, though.
He either didn't hear her or was ignoring Shilo, because he stepped away from the wall, weaving his way through the crowd and towards something he recognized as familiar: a newspaper stand.
He toyed with the idea of pulling out his monocle but ultimately decided against it, instead stooping his tall frame down to glance at the headlines.
2000?
He straightened slightly.
"This is interesting," he said nonchalantly, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a magazine: Shilo's face was on the cover with a headline reading 'Shilo refuses GeneCo?'
2057.
"When are we," he clarified, picking up the newspaper and handing it back to Shilo, whom he had no doubt was hovering nervously behind him.