In truth, the artist hadn't expected to find himself privy to the events that had led up to Adrien's own changing. Somehow, the story of one's death seemed a distinctly intimate detail, one that Alistair himself hardly intended to share with just anyone. Even so, his head bobbed ever so slightly in a small effort to coax the man continue. He had anticipated, in some ways, that Adrien had simply fallen prey to the undead much like Alistair himself had. The story of his family's utter annihilation (though he still found himself questioning the reasons) was entirely unexpected and yet, the artist easily understood that desire for revenge that had caused Adrien to seek out the life that had been forced upon Alistair himself. It likely failed to fill the hole that had been left at the death of his parents at a young age but at least he was now able to do something. How those puzzle pieces now seemed to fall into place - why Adrien had been so concerned that the vampire that had attacked him knew his sister's name, why the man had been willing to offer him eternal life to pick up that very sword against the undead, hell, why he might even take a liking to a young, pretty fae that he too had rescued from the clutches of death. That singular story had revealed far more of Adrien then Alistair anticipated his maker had expected.

How well Alistair knew the look of defeat that seemed to cross his maker's face. For all the undead that Adrien dispensed, the tide seemed never-ending. The vampire population was thriving as much today as it surely was yesterday. Still, even he had to admit that Adrien certainly made a difference to those victims he saved. He had made a difference for Alistair, after all, and by the sound of it, so too had he made a difference for this 'Audi'. It was, perhaps, not entirely tactful to ignore the fate of Adrien's family though there was little Alistair could do beyond offering his maker his condolences. Rather, he took the opportunity to purposefully steer the conversation back towards the present and the woman Adrien was so clearly convincing himself not to pursue. After all, helping Adrien to find some sort of contentment in the present seemed...far more worthwhile. Alistair watched as the elder hunter's lips pressed together in a hard line, the man's baritone voice a soft rumble and yet, the artist merely shrugged in response. In some ways, Adrien had already helped him - he'd brought him back from the brink of death, he'd patched up his bleeding body, fed him, and answered the plethora of questions that the newly turned Hunter was still coming to terms with. What more, tonight, could Adrien do for him?

It was the hunter's insistence that he knew what Alistair was doing, however, that caused the artist's brow to rise. Admittedly, he had hardly veiled his tactics to push Adrien further towards the fae girl he was clearly crushing on, though it didn't make his point any less valid. He watched as Adrien leaned back within his chair, the Hunter clearly considering the suggestion to ask her out. It hadn't considered the gap that existed between them thanks to their species, Alistair's ignorance clearly playing a role and yet...he still found himself victorious. Or at least, half victorious. A soft snort left his nose at Adrien's insistence that he would think about it and yet, the artist was willing to leave it at that. His shoulders rose in a vague shrug as he finally placed his fork down, his plate clean of the stirfry he had practically inhaled. "Good luck." He commented leaning back in his own chair. Until that very moment, Alistair had entirely forgotten his own plans for the previous evening. Adrien's mention of someone waiting for him near immediately caused him to grimace. "My sister is probably freaking out, she was going to crash at my flat for a few days. She probably thinks I died but...I guess I kind of did." The man mused, only for an audible sigh to leave his lips. Emerance would hardly let him out of her sight if she knew what happened. That was not a story he was terribly keen on retelling lest she insisted staying for longer then she had already intended to.

His thoughts deviated from his older sibling, however, as Adrien moved to collect their plates. His emerald eyes followed the man across the small apartment, though his head shook slightly at Adrien's offer for more. "No, I'm fine...I think I might head home..." As much as he appreciated all Adrien had done for him, Alistair found himself craving the comforts of his own apartment. What he wouldn't kill for a hot cup of his favorite tea. He was oblivious, at that moment, to the care that Adrien placed in putting together the leftovers of the feast, much less the needs his body would have in the days to come. In fact, his thoughts were only dragged back to the present at Adrien's comment of his book. Near immediately the emerald of his gaze snapped upwards towards his companion, that one placid calm to his features replaced with utter panic. "My sketchbook! Did you grab it?! Shit, my pencils..." Adrien had grabbed his bag, hadn't he? It wasn't still back there, was it? Fuck! What if someone had taken it? His rough drafts for several of his work projects had been in that! Adrien's inquiry was altogether lost upon Alistair amid his panic, his mind already attempting to piece back the clothes he had found in Adrien's bedroom. He was certain he hadn't seen his bag there. Could he even remember where it had been in the alley? Did he even remember what alley it was?!?!