Luke was having, what he considered quite definitively, one of the worst days of his life.  His car had broken down and even the Hail Mary attempts to choke out a couple more weeks of life hadn't worked... his rent had spiked and his payment had bounced, so now his landlord had him on the short list for eviction... and his boss had sat down with him at the end of his shift and said, "due to unfortunate circumstances, we're looking to streamline our staff and you're being let go.  You're fired.  Clean out your stuff.  Get bent."  Maybe not exactly those words, but that was the overall feel of the one-sided conversation and, at the moment, his life.  God telling him to get bent.<br/><br/>And then, as if on cue, Luke felt the first cold drops of rain land on his face.  He wrinkled his freckled nose, glancing up at the sky before getting another drop in the eye, then pulled up the hood of his thin sweatshirt and started walking faster.  Normally a brisk walk was something he enjoyed, but the air was too sharp tonight, and the damp was only increasing with the rain as it changed from a light drizzle to a steady downpour.  Luke shivered, hands buried deeper in his pockets and shoulders hunched, and tried to keep his mood from getting any bleaker.<br/><br/>In his efforts to calm his thoughts, Luke came to realize he'd missed his turn; the rain, the cold, everything had him in a whirl.  The young man stopped, took a quick glance around-- not too far off his route, just a bit skewed-- and noticed an alleyway, one he'd been by before.  If he remembered right, it was a shortcut that would maybe get him home faster... and at least it looked like less rain in between the buildings than out in the open street.  Plus, if anybody happened to try and rob him, they'd be sorely disappointed.<br/><br/>He stepped into the dark and did his best to manuever through the minefield of trash, puddles, and other questionable liquids and obscure objects.  It was slightly drier, but the breeze cut right through the alley and chilled Luke down to the skin, making him shiver once more.  At least he'd be home soon enough... for however long that would last.<br/><br/>Halfway down the alley, the dark was muted by a weak light seeping from a doorway: an old door, with rusty hinges and peeling paint that said simply, "EDDY'S".  A business, down here?  Noise floated softly from the doorway, the fuzzy, electric sounds of a tv.  A bar, then.  Definitely a bar.  Luke stopped, and stared, and realized he was incredibly thirsty.<br/><br/>He approached the entrance and glanced inside with a cautious gaze, seeing no patrons.  The bartender was a massive, older man, all muscle and bulk and greying hair; he was busy with his own drink, half-focused on a soccer game.  Luke pushed his hood back, stepping over the threshold into the room (what else could it be called, as small as it was), and lightly tapped on the corner of the bar.<br/><br/>"You, uh, you still open?"  When the bartender turned around, he'd find a soaking wet, slightly underfed and very tired freckled face staring at him, grey-blue eyes peering out from under messy, rain-glossed black hair.  Luke hung by the doorway, dripping onto the floor and hoping the 'all-night' vibe of the place was accurate.  A drink or ten sounded fantastic.