Having looked down to fill in a bit of red on a sash, Jude missed the shift of his subject. He doesn't quite jump for the revelation. He learned at a young age to hold that kind of thing in, just set his eyes straight and finish the breath he was on when someone came up on him like that.

Slow, deliberate, he sets the pad flat on the table. Turning his head, he looks up--getting a closer look at the man he's spent the last hour sketching, but still missing what about him might be familiar.

Maybe a vague resemblance to some far flung part of Parker's family, and even that's just categorizing on appearance. "Hi," he says back, just as deliberate, no more understanding of the attention. "Can I help you?" His hands rest on the table, colored pencils standing up stuck between fingers.