Rain doesn't bother September. He hasn't got any hair to mess up, you see, and he doesn't care if his clothing gets wet because he can always just dry it. He might be a little chilly (okay, more than a little) but it doesn't show at all.

No, he's just walking down the street. He looks about at the sound of some kind of music coming from... somewhere. He even stops, pulls out those field glasses, and scans his surroundings. No band jamming away in a gazebo, no stereos, nothing. He keeps walking.

And then he starts to dance. There is absolutely no change to his facial expression, but he dances anyway, and man alive, has he got moves. He steps and twirls and pivots and shuffles like a mad (albeit poker-faced) Fred Astaire, and then joins in on the lyrics, which are complete nonsense.

"Hubba hubba zoot zoot, eba hoba zud zut, a-num num..."

This is definitely a sight. He hubba-zoots and taps and jigs his way down the street, dodging around other people and leaping onto benches. Anyone else would look like they were having a grand old time, but he's as expressionless as ever. He has no idea what's going on, but he's going to write this down. Possibly observe other people doing this if he can just... stop... singing....

"Ma-foo rayba foo rayba, ma-ha foo rayba, a-num num...."

Not bloody likely.