Crazy Eddie shakes off whatever it was that had him in its grip as the care in the woman's voice worked its way past his memories into his consciousness. His fingers went from bloodless white to a more normal dirty grey and he started laughing from the very bottom of his belly. "Have to go ... Only to the grave, girlie. Only to the grave..." he says still chuckling a little.<br/><br/>The Artist hears this and can't help but let a little laugh escape his lips. The sound is rich and velvety, casting with it the kind of agreement that accompanies acknowledging a Truth... Or a Cosmic Joke. In no time at all he had his sketchbook out and as Crazy Eddie turns from the girl he was talking to, the artist does a quick study of the homeless man's haunted, honest eyes.<br/><br/>Crazy Eddie walk back to his shopping cart and shoves it infront of himself as he heads down the street. As he does he alternates between chuckling, chortling, guffawing and giggling aloud making the crowd party for him and favor him with dad, scared or putting eyes. As he disappears in the distance, the artist leaves off from his drawing and looks up and around himself as if waking from a dream or a trance.