"Ginsberg," Ned confirms, with a little nod, "Like the poet. Got it."

At which point he returns his attention to his other customers, though as the minutes tick by, he finds himself always aware of Ginsberg's presence there. He makes sure he never runs out of coffee, looks with interest at the little things he's sketching on the napkins but doesn't ask questions. Ned uses the time wisely, cleaning the kitchen before closing and making everything neat and tidy so that he'll be able to leave at the earliest possible moment. A few minutes before nine, the last other customer leaves, and Ned gets rid of his apron, pauses a minute where he can't be seen in the kitchen to try to straighten his hair, his shirt sleeves, make sure he looks presentable.

"So you're, what, an artist?" he asks, nodding to the rather large pile of scrawled-on napkins.