He stands straight with his chest out past the gleaming toes of his shoes. In one hand he grasps a hockey stick like a palace guard’s pikestaff and, in the other, a set of hockey skates by the blades.
His long wool coat is houndstooth and his pants, visible beneath the hem, are GAP Original Khakis in the colour known by that company as “cedar” though it is a sandy beige, a shade lighter than his skin.
His head is shaved, but not recently. His beard—trimmed close to his square, meaty jaw—is styled into a goatee with thin blades of hair extended towards his ears.
Though his stance is solid, imposing and resolute, there is a self-conscious weakness in his eyes. He is uncomfortable with the attention he is drawing. He seems apologetic for the inconvenience he’s caused by the extra gear he is carrying though it is not encumbering anyone at all.
Two days later he is wearing the same coat but does not have the hockey equipment. Instead he is accompanied by a woman he guides off the train by the elbow with a slightly domineering air.