When he was watching over the citizens of Milton, as he did every night he wasn't too incapacitated to do so, Rorschach's mind tended to go in one of two directions. Either he thought of absolutely everything and usually ended up in one his long, rambling soliloquies. Or his mind just went a bit blank as he did the automatic motions of moving from house to house or ending up in a nearby tree. When that happened, his mind tended to just conjure up things from his past, usually songs he'd listened to growing up.

There hadn't been much in the way of watching TV, they couldn't afford one with how little money his mother actually made from her...."job", but at least they had been able to afford a radio. Hence old songs often got stuck in his brain.

He didn't come down when Lestat acknowledged him. For a moment, he thought he'd heard a voice, so close to him as to practically be right inside of his head. Startled, Rorschach looked around. But there was no one besides the blonde below him at this hour of the night. He brushed some snow off and sat down on the edge of the cold roof, preferring to have this amount of distance between himself and the charming weirdo he'd talked to before. "Patrolling." That was all he said in response to the question. It was his usual nighttime routine at play.