[ Neil might not have the age, or even the experience, but he can appreciate that look for what it is. Dressed in heavy jeans, a thin jumper pulled over an already-damp t-shirt, and not caring to wear anything above his head other than a prayer, he stops in a nearby puddle and looks up at the sky. ]
Hell of a night to say your peace. [ Assuming, of course, the other man came to the gardens for the same purpose. The Meister has one hand pocketed, the other holding a single calla lily, its petals barely protected from the rain by his cupped fingers. ]