It was freezing outside. It was nearing the end of November, snow falling as the temperature seemed to be dropping - and quickly - with wind breezing far too hard for Eraserhead's taste.

On his patrol, hiding his face in his capture weapon of a scarf, he could hear sniffles. Someone, crazy as it seemed, was out here in below-freezing, cold weather.

When he turned the corner, he saw you, shaking like a leaf and looking sick and ill.