Michael
Hm. Stalker? Maybe. He slips it into his trenchcoat pocket, moving back into the street. He still had quite a bit of time before Falcone would be eating again, or his 'meeting' with the commissioner. All that time, and nothing to do. He couldn't head back to the Narrows until after those two were accomplished. He simply begins walking the streets, heading to the golf course to wait. Maybe he'd see something along the way.