Part II

The golden days of Maplewood were long gone. What used to be a beautiful park with a willow tree that whispered in the wind was now a patch of grass in a disappointing urban metropolis and shaggy grey trees that suffered and fried in the late dog days of summer.
Everyone suffered from the heat. The drunks got drunker and the weird got weirder.
Although the tenants of Maplewood Crest were strange and out-of-the-ordinary events often occurred, the town turned into a grey misshapen place where nothing unexpected had happened for years.

Sather was standing at the water-smeared window as the humidity and his breath fogged the inside. He was watching the piles of boxes being moved into the van below. The boxes were soggy and the armchair was soaked from the torrential rain that had been pouring down since 6 AM.

Something caught his eye and he shifted his gaze further down the street on his right: a little boy, no older than 10, was zooming down the street with his arms stretched out on either side of him. His Superman cape was flying behind him as he raced down the sidewalk towards the apartment building. In the next 5 seconds, the boy noticed something rather... unexpected. The boy tripped on his shoelace and went flying about 3 feet up the sidewalk and crashed face first into the concrete. He quickly got up, dusted off his knees, and laid his eyes directly on Sather in his window.

Sather quickly turned away and said something to Ruby. She nodded and smiled affectionately at him.

As for the looks of this strange man to the little boy, he probably thought Sather looked like a pale and angry ghost with a scowl.

Actually, he was young, in his early 30's with very dark black hair that he wore in a classic haircut. It wasn't shaggy and untamed, it was well groomed and brushed back. Most days, he wore a button down shirt with expensive looking pants that were usually some form of grey or black.
His voice wasn't rough or particularly gruff or scratchy. It had a smooth, inkiness to it and was so slippery and calm that people either listened to and became indulged in, or completely ignored. He had a Welsh slant to his words that was notable for its fast, highly accented manner of speech with a soft, lyrical sound to it.
His skin tone was somewhere in the range of pale white, but with a light and "alive" tone to it (as opposed to a sickly green pale color).

Overall, he was a gentleman, an average man from the Victorian age in the wrong town. Originally from Wales, he was used to the countryside and the rolling hills and the wells of water and the slow manner of townsfolk. But Maplewood wasn't a huge step up from where he was from. People still milled around and didn't appear to have any specific place to go in the grey city of Maplewood.

Except for, that little boy who tripped on his shoelace and saw this man standing in the window.