Discovering those senses was, perhaps, one of the more jarring changes within Alistair's life. That simple knowledge that someone was not what they appeared to be prompted it's fair share of paranoia within the untrained hunter, much less the constant worry of what might happen when they recognized him for what he was. Adrien had warned him of those that might come after him simply for being the Hunter he was and though he had yet to encounter any soul quite so vicious in his daily life, those thoughts still pressed largely within his mind every time he discovered an 'other'. The vague word was what he had taken to calling them - the other supernatural. After all, he had yet to discern what those senses were - the sensations of were, fae, and witch all an intermingled mess in his mind if only for his lack of any real teaching...but not her. He knew what she was. Dark Hunter was, admittedly, the only one he discovered he could discern with any striking clarity. Even so, Alistair was left...entirely uncertain as to what to do, now that he had found another of his kind. Adrien's explanation of their species had been vague and rushed at best. Was there protocol to follow? Was he supposed to say hi and play nice or did they ignore one another much like most strangers in the city did?

Alistair was painfully aware of her increasing proximity as she meandered towards the trash can near the bench he sat at. It was that very closeness that drew his malachite hued irises to her slender figure, the man considering those multitude of questions and the uncertainty that so rarely afflicted him. Alistair was so often the very epitome of self-assured. That transformation, however, had somehow rocked that foundation of confidence he had once so viewed the world with. She hardly seemed nearly as phased with his presence, however, as she tossed the end of the cigarette within the trash can, only to lean over the empty side of his bench and tie her shoe in an entirely lackadaisical manner. His lips pressed together in a hard line before the artist stood, entirely intending to return to his office away from the unpredictability to Sacrosanct's general populace and the supernatural that hid amongst it. He was, admittedly, inattentive in his hurry, pumping the table as his pencils rolled off with an audible clatter and onto the ground beneath them. That curse word was muttered under his breath as he reached down to collect his pencils, the artist entirely ill prepared for the feminine voice that reached out to him...followed by the hand that held but one of those graphite pencils within her fingertips.

A soft breath left the artist's lips as he reached out for the pencil in her hand. "Uh...yeah...probably. Thanks." He muttered with a glimpse of discontent upon his masculine features. He was, admittedly, hardly upset at her rather than frustrated at himself, the artist never one to take well to his own inadequacies, particularly when he worked hard to get to where he was in life, only to find himself knocked back into a world he was a complete novice in all over again. The vibrancy of his gaze rose up towards her, only to eye that coy smile upon her lips. A weak one crossed his own in return. Her mention of stabbing, someone, however, only twisted that attempt at a simper into a visible grimace. " Yeah....I don't...really do that...yet." That final word was added as an afterthought, the new Hunter certainly...considering taking up that role and yet...he hardly even knew where to even start with this whole...hunter stuff.