Which was not to say that he wasn't always fidgety. It was just that, for some particular reason, that evening left him even more out of sorts than usual. Pacing around his house and flipping idly through books here and there wasn't doing the trick, which was what drove him to the great outdoors in the first place, wallet and phone and key absentmindedly jammed into his pockets and, amazingly, front door locked behind him. He ventured outside every now and then, more to study the inhabitants of the city than to actually socialize with them and to see if he could overhear anything of use, but he rarely felt driven out of his house as he did that evening.
He blamed it on lack of sleep, evidenced by the dark circles under his eyes, more pronounced than usual. When he did sleep, he was plagued by nightmares, half-remembered scenes of mayhem that normally would not bother him but were somehow intimate and bothersome. Visions of his wife and daughter that seemed personal and did not vanish completely upon waking up. He could not remember what had happened after injecting himself with G, and he worried the dreams had something to do with that.
Taking a turn into the park, he absently whistled as he meandered around, reaching out to touch a flower that caught his interest. Then he spotted a young girl - healthy seeming, obviously content, dressed peculiarly - and his eyebrows rose in interest, that scientific mind of his running at a mile a minute. Running a hand through his mussed hair, he approached her casually, awkwardly putting on a friendly smile.