He watches Finch for the most of it, his doodles and everything, sips at his beer all the while with a half-cocked smile at the corner of his mouth. It's livening up the page at least, better than his mindless circles and nothing that were on it before.

But he gives Finch some of his space when he gets into the real sketching, because he knows he personally gets himself a little self-conscious when people are peeking at his work. He flips through a magazine on the table for about the billionth time, drums some more on the arm of the chair, gets up to get himself a new beer out of the fridge. By the time he comes back from that, it's really starting to look like something - well, something familiar - and he pauses, leans a hand on the back of the couch as his eyes sketch over the drawing. Is that him?

"What're you doin'?"