Harry watched as the young man presented the completed sketch to the woman, who laughed and claimed it looked nothing like her. It really did, but it certainly wasn't his place to tell her that. He jumped slightly as he was spoken to, surprised. He hadn't been aware that the bloke even knew he was there, he seemed so engrossed in his work. Harry was no artist but he had to admit, it was fascinating to watch the sketch go from lines on a page to a complete drawing of someone. Comical, sure, but there was obvious talent there.
"It really did look like her," He commented, shoving his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose with his free hand as he came around and sat on the chair. "Since I can't say no, of course." He said with a little grin, adding, "I've never been drawn before." Well, that wasn't true. He'd received a few random Owls over the years of people's penciled, or sometimes painted, depictions of him. It was really flattering, if not entirely inaccurate and somewhat creepy. But he'd at least never sat in someone's presence while they drew him. He didn't bother correcting himself though. He looked up at the artist, vague familiarity licking at his memory. He shoved it away for the moment, cupping his still-hot coffee between his hands.