Sebastian had seen all sorts in his centuries of life on Earth. He knew better than to judge someone based on their appearance - after all, he'd found most nobility to be far cruder than commoners, and no one would ever think to guess that he was anything other than a servant.
But he couldn't help and sniff a little at the man who'd just staggered up from the bench. Sebastian liked things to be beautiful, perfect, and a park in the rain still had beauty, but mumbling pedestrians took away from it.
On the other hand, his job had taught him to be courteous and polite to even the strangest of creatures (provided they weren't trying to kill him or his master), and some odd types had been turning up lately. He pulled out a black umbrella - seemingly from the depths of his coat - opened it, and held it out to the man.
"You're hardly dead," he said. "And you're in New York City."