<em>"...intoxication that pulls us, From where come all these words that attack me, Incomplete pleasures that bewitch me, We don't have the right to close these doors anymore...." </em><br/><br/>Luke shoved the glass door open carelessly with one deeply tanned elbow, snapping his fingers lazily as he sang along with the voice in his earbuds. The rain made his short black and red hair cling to his scalp, and his unbuttoned bright green and blue island shirt flopped wetly about him as he danced carelessly into the store. His shorts were mostly dry at least, thick, heavy cargo style denim cutoffs with more pockets than ten people could need, and his black rubber sandals "<strong>plop</strong>"-ed over the slick tile. Over the edges of dark, rimless shades, Luke noted Shaggy and the shop girl; a grin crept over his face as he wandered up and down the aisles, searching for suitable snackage and watching the pair surreptitiously.<br/><br/>'Ah, young love. How sweet thy kisses,' he thought wryly, bobbing and weaving to his music. Then his eyes fell on Frosty and his grin widened. 'No frakkin' way,' he thought as he snagged an apple from a stand of juicy reds. 'They couldn't possibly have hired<em>two </em>for this job...' Luke smiled as he rubbed the apple on his shorts and took a bite, savoring the juicy crunch as his teeth pierced the shiny skin.<br/><br/>'This might be fun, after all!'