Eddy was there all right, but he was busy, leaned over the counter and intently focused on something in his hands-- a sketchbook.  Luke couldn't see the drawing, not from where he was standing, but he could see how careful the man was being, his movements slow and planned.  It looked difficult, like it even hurt a little, and Luke simply watched for a few moments in silence.<br/><br/>Eddy was a mystery, Luke had only met him once before, and much of that meeting was fuzzy... But the young man had a gut feeling that the bartender hadn't always been a bartender.  Maybe he had worked creatively; it was obvious he'd done hard labor with his hands, but perhaps that labor had been more aesthetic than utilitarian.<br/><br/>To Luke, Eddy looked like an artist, bent entirely to the will of his medium.  Or at least the one he'd chosen for the night.  The glasses, the wild hair half-contained and strands loose about his lined face, all served to form an image of a man toiling in the limited, warm light that broke up the darkness.  The lamp made Eddy glow along his spine and shoulders, the light pooling onto the paper so he could see just enough.  The scene looked like a Rembrandt, a medieval masterpiece, but that was just Luke being sentimental.<br/><br/>Eddy was busy, probably expecting no one.  Luke wondered if he should just leave, slip off quietly and let the other continue his work... but it was hard to stop staring, to just watch in silence and enjoy the determination and intensity of the bartender as he drew.  Luke was feeling kind of selfish tonight anyways... Eddy should've locked up if he'd wanted to be alone.<br/><br/>Quietly, Luke stepped into the bar, and lightly tapped against the counter to let Eddy know he was there.  He didn't want to startle him too badly.  When the man looked up, the boy gave him a small smile, suddenly feeling shy and intrusive.  Maybe he shouldn't have interrupted.  "Um, hi.  Again...  This a good time...?"