It's not a stable hand who's up this early, it's a stable master who's dressed in a blue jacket, lined with silk and hood pulled up over his head. He's not really in a rush to start the day, and there's a cup of coffee (almost black, just a touch of cream and a touch of whiskey in but he's trying to cut down on that habit) in his hand. Styrofoam, with a lid.

Doc turns the corner, head down as he enters the stables but his senses immediately tell him that someone else is there, and his line of sight snaps up as he slows his walk.

He's grateful for the hood and the way his hair is falling a bit into his eyes, and he has a drink of the coffee before he speaks up.

"Howdy."