[If he'd actually looked, Bruce would realize that the one staring was actually fairly close to the ground: a grey and white pittie with only three legs. They walk over, giving Bruce's shoes a good sniff.]

[It gets the attention of the man holding the leash: on the taller side, handsome, with windswept black hair. He hums slightly, reaching down to scoop the puppy up.]

Haley, come on. You can't just go wandering up to folks. It's not polite. [He gives the man a smile.] Sorry about that. She's just friendly.

[And this new guy is very familiar, somehow. Even with the smeared grease paint.] You...uh. Got a little. Something. On your face.