"Yes. A collector." Except he didn't always collect - he didn't like collecting things, let dust accumulate on unused surfaces, and having to move them randomly around his storage rooms every couple of days. Life was about maintaining a balance and achieving a good, steady flow - stagnation and idleness was an incurable disease of man.
They kept a comfortable pace, and he kept his gaze on the uneven, dark footpath they walked on, not even sparing a glance at the wailing sirens and flashing lights speeding past them, always too late, always one step behind everyone else.
"Tell me then, Zeke, if you don't mind me asking - what are you doing around these parts, alone, at this time of the night? It's not safe. You know."