He's all too familiar with the constant flux of life on and off duty. At times, he feels like a stranger in his own home.

In the early morning sun, Gaz stands on the porch with a cigarette, observing the activities of the neighborhood. Never one for small talk, he offers a friendly nod to those he barely even knows.

His focus is suddenly drawn to a peculiar sight. A torn grocery bag and its contents lie scattered across the driveway of one of his neighbors, you, to be exact. You've been nothing but kind to him in the past, so he doesn't hesitate to offer help.

"Need a hand?" he speaks with casual ease as he flicks away the cigarette.