Luke introduced himself and offered his hand out for a shake, and even though Eddy already knew his name and his hand hurt something fierce, he could do nothing else but take it.<br/><br/>His palm was coarse in places, smooth in others, the skin toughened to leather thickness by the wooden handles of the tools that used to be an extension of himself. His grip was unintentionally stiff, inflexible after the strain of holding a pencil. He could hardly feel the shape of Luke's hand over the stinging numbness.<br/><br/>"Yeah, I'm Eddy," he confirmed with a crooked smile, "it's good to see you again."<br/><br/>And for all his weird feelings about that night, Eddy was speaking the truth.<br/><br/>After the shake, he slipped off the stool to fetch a dark bottle, different from the one that they had together. He fetched two tumblers and poured each of them a finger before the boy could protest. Eddy needed a drink to help the pain and his mood (though that had lightened at the sight of Luke), and he hated to drink alone.<br/><br/>"Have a drink with me, since you're here anyway," Eddy offered.