The bartender looked like he was in pain, a lot of it, and the sound he made as he let go of his pencil and straightened his fingers said enough.  It was hard for him, but that tenacity just made Luke more impressed.  Not many people would try to do things that hurt them.  Eddy was tough, very tough; that was evident.<br/><br/>His face was hardened with an angry, almost bitter look, but it changed when he saw Luke.  The hardness dropped, replaced with surprise (and hopefully a bit of pleasure) upon seeing the young man.  Eddy must've thought Luke wouldn't be back, or at least that he wouldn't see him again here, or so soon.  Luke hoped he didn't mind.<br/><br/>Hearing the nickname made his hesitant smile grow, and he walked further in when invited.  He slipped onto a stool, elbows resting on the counter, and glanced at the sketch-- he couldn't help it, he was curious.  It was a skeleton, a decomposing corpse with little shreds of skin and sinews left on the bones; even so ugly an image, the lines were careful, precise and as clean as someone could make with hands that hurt so much.  It might have been something dead and decayed, but it was still quite beautiful in its creation.<br/><br/>Luke looked away after a few seconds, turning inquisitive eyes on Eddy, that small smile still there.  "I like it," he said softly, lightly tapping a fingertip near the open page.  And it was true, he did.  It reminded him of works he'd studied, the depth in the lines and shadows.<br/><br/>"Do you draw often late at night...?  Between serving drinks and helping people home, I mean."