If he had to hear the name Brad one more time, Alistair was certain he might snap. For nearly a week now he had been dealing with the insufferable creative director. How many times had the man attempted to throw Alistair under the bus? How many times were there new changes expected of him that he'd heard nothing about? Or deadlines he'd 'failed' to meet without any records of one being mentioned within the first place. It was infuriating to say the least, the artist's interest in the project so quickly waning the more pressure placed upon him by his 'client'. Frankly, he almost wanted to be fired by the guy, if only the company that stood behind him wasn't such a great stepping stone within Alistair's career. The name alone would look great within his portfolio. It was that which he kept telling himself as he modified his design yet again, for the eighth time since he'd presented it. "Alistair, go home, don't stress about it, he's a dick." His boss's voice caused the artist to glance up, only for a soft sigh to echo upon his lips. "Yeah, I will." He promised, placing his tablet's pen down in its holder. His boss was right though, a bit of distance, a drink maybe...it would help clear his head for tomorrow, and frankly, Alistair was sure he needed it. With a press of a button, Alistair turned off his monitor, the emerald green of his gaze shifted towards the large windows of his office. How...dark it was outside, and so early too. The sun had already set, the cities lights filling the horizon as he pulled his woolen jacket over his broad shoulders.

A polite farewell and brief wave was all Alistair gave to some of the junior members of the firm before he stepped onto the already full elevator. This, he was sure, was his least favorite part of his job. So many offices lined the skyrise that the elevator was frequently full in the evenings, tonight hardly any different. It was almost a relief, really, when the doors silently slid open to the vast hallway, even if Alistair was stuck waiting a few moments before the people in front of him filed out and he was finally released from the cramped elevator. The vibrancy of his gaze was far more focused upon the area in front of him, the artist effectively tunning out his surroundings in a way he knew his maker would have yelled at him for. Still, crowds were still a bit...much for him. The assault on his hyperactive senses something he had adjusted to in small doses but this was the part he always hated. The barista to his left at the coffee stand that gave him coffee every morning was a were, the security guard he'd nodded to on the nights he left particularly late was a warlock, there was a fairy at the customer service desk, two vampires in an elevator headed upwards who looked like they were in some 90's punk rock band, a veritable 'pack' of college preps were leaving the shopping district somewhere behind him and that was just within his immediate vicinity.

Alistair was utterly oblivious that he had garnered the attention of any singular individual - nor did he notice as the familiar young woman began to move towards him, abandoning her post at the coffee shop. It was a flash of blonde out of his periphery that caused him to glance towards her, a look of genuine surprise fluttered across his features as Alistair realized he recognized her. The...vampire bait girl with the weird book. She looked up at him as if she could feel his gaze upon her, her features seeming to brighten as her lips parted. Those words, however, were cut off before they could be spoken as, abruptly, a snap filled the air between them and suddenly, she fell onto the slick marbled floors underfoot, the shopping bags within her hands crashing onto the ground, some of their contents falling out from their colorful wrappings. Alistair halted within his very tracks, his foot falling on a wayward pair of red, lacy underwear with a newly purchased purse beside his shoe. It was with a soft sound upon her lips that the girl sat upwards, the bright blue of her eyes slowly turning towards him almost bashfully as he look down at her. Slowly, Alistair's eyebrow rose as she waved off her clearly unexpected fall.

That girlish giggle upon her lips caused his eyes to roll as she offered him a quickly throught up quip. His head shook ever so slightly as he glanced up and away from her, entirely aware of the way the crowd around them had largely paused to stare at them. A soft sigh left Alistair's lips as he glanced back down at her, offering the young woman his hand with a distinctly unimpressed look upon his features. "Do you ever look where you're going?" The artist complained as he silently offered to help the girl up. She was, admittedly everything the women he was used to were not. In the boarding school he attended, the girls were taught to be ladies, they were expected to be intelligent and quiet and well behaved. In his college law classes, they were serious, studious, and overachieving. And then there was her...ditzy... an airheaded....and apparently a shopping fiend. Just what had Alistair gotten himself into now.