Alcohol had always been one of Alistair's preferred vices. The artist so easily tempted with a good drink, despite how stereotypical it was of him. He hadn't anticipated Buffy inviting him out and yet....the more he considered it..the more he could see the benefits of better becoming familiar to his own 'co-workers', as Alistair had so begun to think of them as. His inquiry of the Cull and Pistol seemed to prompt a warm smile upon Buffy's features, the bar one she clearly knew well. He watched as her brow rose, her hip cocking to the side ever so slightly and for a moment, Alistair thought she might decline him...till she didn't. Her easy accepted prompted a rise of his own brow. The boy said nothing of his own internal thoughts, however, as he followed her through the sand and onto the sidewalk. The vibrancy of his jade-colored irises glanced up at her as she paused, that inquiry was one he had heard many times before. His shoulder lifted in a vague shrug. "A sandcastle." His answer was, perhaps, vague in some aspects, hardly doing the sketch any real justice and yet, it hardly truly mattered. Alistair, after all, had never been terribly keen on conversation, even if he found his present company agreeable enough...for the most part. Thankfully, Cull and Pistol was hardly far off, even if he was condemning himself to whatever small talk Hunters so typically engaged in. This...was going to be interesting.