The emerald hue of his vibrant gaze was focused upon the tinted window at his side, his chin rested gently upon the palm of his hand, his elbow on the table, even in spite of all those etiquette classes both himself and his sister had been subjected to. Silence had befallen the small table - the very likes of which was wholly welcomed after hours of listening to the clicking of mouses and keyboards and the chatting of voices. Though he had become...accustomed to his overly sensitive senses that had come with his transformation, he still found the constant stimulus exhausting. At the very least, it was better than the headaches that used to constantly afflict him from too bright lights and sounds that seemed to echo too loud. His gaze followed a young mother as she attempted to juggle her shopping purchases and the hands of her two young children - only to shift to a pair of teenagers that passed her, their hands tentatively reaching for each other in an innocent, uncertain infatuation. His gaze fluttered away from the couple, Alistair was...oddly content in his people watching, the Hunter so far removed from those simple...peaceful lives. God, how he would have loved something so...ordinary. For a moment, he'd almost forgotten of the girl across from him entirely, until her soprano voice brought the man crashing back to the present.

His gaze turned towards the woman across from him as she insisted she had hardly made the best impression upon him. Alistair's brows furrowed as he watched her, wholly baffled as to why it mattered in the slightest what he thought of her. In a metropolis filled with strangers, they had a chance encounter, one that ultimately meant nothing more than the barista he'd met in the morning who poured him coffee. Frankly, Alistair wasn't even certain what he did think of her, she was...fearless, yes, courageous to fight for her life in the face of certain death when the odds were so stacked against her. But by the same token so too did she seem willing to spend every dime on frivolous purchases like...shoes and...fancy underwear. She had lofty dreams to write a whole novel and yet, she was so...exceedingly...forward, Alistair momentarily left remembering the sensation of her lips against his while Piper, across from him, blundered on with the insistence that she was interested in him and, given an hour of time, he would likely be interested in her too.

Well, shit.

He should have seen this coming.

It wasn't as if there hadn't been...well...numerous warning signs.

She had kissed him.

A soft breath left his lips before his hand rose to gingerly massage the side of his temple. Alistair was so not prepared to crush her heart. He had simply desired dinner...and a quiet evening. How had things gone so awry? For a moment, Alistair was silent before his lips parted, his baritone voice held a surprising hint of gentleness as he carefully disregarded her tender emotions of affection for him. Her infatuation, he was certain, would hardly last long if she truly knew him. If she knew the kind of man he was capable of being. Easily, he offered her an alternative - a way out, of sorts, as he promised to buy her dinner and listen about her book in exchange for...well...feeling 'thanked' for his pathetic efforts to save her. He was well aware, however, of how she stared at him, with one brow raised as she sat back within her seat, studying him with a clear difference of opinion. His efforts, it seemed, were going to fall upon deaf ears.

He watched as her gaze turned briefly out the window before she carefully chose to inform him that the phenomenon he called so common lacked a name entirely - a fact he was well aware of. For once, Alistair made no effort to interrupt her, however, the Artist wholly silent as she continued her thought, only to lean in slightly towards him. Her words caught the Dark Hunter entirely off guard, her very reaction to him was one he found himself mimicking as his brow rose in silence. His lips pursed together ever so slightly as Piper insisted she was not the type of woman he had described - that cooking dinner every night for her man was not within her interests. The crystalline hue of her gaze stared at him hard in some effort to drive her point home, the message was one he received loud and clear. Regardless of his own thoughts, Alistair let her continue as she pressed him on letting her decide whether or not she wanted to get to know him, only to add that, if he agreed, she had at least fifty-eight minutes longer to come to her own conclusion on the matter.

Alistair supposed he should be flattered at her determination to get to know him. Any other man might have been - but to him she seemed...like nothing more then trouble. She was the stark opposite of anything he desired, her efforts to call him out on his more...controlling tendencies only further cemented that very fact. "All right. You have fifty-eight minutes." Alistair uttered, giving into her belief that she might find a way to entice him in under an hour. He leaned back into his seat, his arms crossing over his chest as the full weight of those vivid discerning irises finally fell upon her entirely. "Though it's not looking very good for you right now, I don't usually prefer women so...demanding." If there was anything Alistair excelled at, it was keeping the world at an arm's length. Dissuading her from her insane belief that she was interested within him should be easy enough, particularly when she already seemed to find him...condescending as it was.