The sealevel of his black tar cocktail was dwindling rapidly. Crayons, or maybe just preschool art, frenzied him. Lukas must have drained the last two-thirds of his steaming cup in between heavy swipes of crayola wax. When she approached, he spared a glance while the heel of his hand ushered that project beneath the porcelain rim of his platter and there was a nudge of his shallow mug in her direction.
But then, formed in a final moment, there seemed to be an expression of eureka! because he brought up a hand in excited halt after she'd refilled his coffee. Before she could flee again, he scripted another note of request on a free space in his notepad.
Ketchup?
The only thing this greasy, vegetarian meal was lacking.