Luke had money. Luke had money, and not like he was searching through his El Camino for any change he could find. Working at Bubba's the night before had actually panned out well for him, and now he could afford to go to a "real" bar - Heme. He was sure that once the bouncers figured out he was there he'd get his ass thrown out again, but until then? Luke was all for having himself a good time and he hadn't gotten into trouble, yet. It wasn't like he tried to start a bar fight or piss off the wrong person, those sorts of things just happened sometimes. Such was the life of a Wayward Son, he couldn't outrun his bad luck even if he tried. He thought it better to embrace it, to accept it for what it was and just get on with his life.
Even though the El Camino had broken down on the way to Heme, Luke was in good spirits as he came into Heme. He even looked good, by his standards - his jeans were without holes, and the tank top he wore was relatively clean. He was all smiles as he took a seat at the bar, drumming his hands on the countertop. Here, there were so many other people milling around. Sure, there were vamps, but everything else too. A fair share of weres, maybe some elementals... and psychics. Luke could smell the psychics. So much that it had him distracted until the bartender snapped his fingers at him. "Hey buddy, are you going to order anything?"
"Oh!" Luke reached for the money in his pocket again, counting it in his head. "You got any O- psychic?" Honestly, it wouldn't hurt to ask.