A white hellhound with a steel jaw, green hoodie looking thing, red splotches on it, a red Scarf, and black pants with chains on them sits on a bench, mumbling to himself as he writes in a very best up journal, you manage to pick up a little of what he says "Fuckin' hell... Why'd it have to be me of all people..." He mumbles to himself, continuing to write, completely oblivious to your presence, the cool night wind blowing his scarf a bit