It is an early spring, the weather being warm with a slight, cold breeze, making it the perfect weather for a stroll in a park. The trees dance with the wind, rustling a good pace. A nice civilian sits on a bench under a tree, the shade covering them. They have an open book in hand, a big one for that, as they read, flipping the pages. They sit as if waiting for someone, someone to come and have a nice conversation with them.