Millennial Tree Cookie doesn’t mean to attract attention - or block off the sidewalk, for that matter - but… it just kind of happens. After all, he’s kind of hard to miss, even in this new form: A handsome, questionably-middle-aged man, straight brown hair brushing the sidewalk despite his notable height and white brows and lashes standing out starkly against his dark skin, clad in a delicate, sleeveless robe entirely unsuited to the weather. He doesn’t seem unaffected by that weather, either, his arms held against his shivering form with his hands clasped over his shoulders, but it doesn’t seem to have occurred to him to… you know, do anything else about it.

The Mudbray by his side might have started to pose something of a foot traffic obstruction, as well, having begun to wander as his trainer stays in one place. That one place is, not coincidentally, directly in front of a bakery window. He’s staring down at a tray of gingerbread men, as he has been since stopping here, gentle concern marking his face.

He can see no sign that any of the products in this window are alive, of course - or used to be, for that matter. Which is the only reason he’s still standing here instead of taking… whatever action he could, in his present state.

But it’s still somewhat disturbing.