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It’s dark and the residents are uneasy. They do not like new people, new people have kept them prisoners in their homes. The young stranger in green is given a few wary glances, but is otherwise ignored. They are curt in their conversations. Brief and to the point when faced with a question. A jab with a thumb over a shoulder is most common. Sometimes directions are given verbally, not often enough to be mistaken for welcomeness. The adults do not trust this newcomer, however polite he may be.
The children are considerably more hospitable. They lead with tiny, grubby hands, chattering away to this gorgeous youth, until their parents call them frantically back to their sides.
The animals swarm around booted ankles, yipping and meowing for affection, slurping and nuzzling at soft cheeks when their efforts are rewarded. Curled into sturdy arms, pressed up against a warm, green-clothed chest, content to dose and purr, rocked gently to the rhythm of careful footsteps.
It changes the perception of not all, but some. He finds comfort in kinder gazes, a hello, an apple pressed with a smile into gloved hands.
The change is a surprise, but certainly not an unwelcome one.