That artist was all but oblivious to attention his very scent had warranted, his focus solely settled upon the all too amiable kitten nestled in his arms. He was, quite certain, that she was hardly any normal stray. Her very appearance so distinctly fascinating that Alistair was certain she belonged to someone. She was likely one of those designer hybrid breeds worth thousands of dollars, the very sort of investment that would surely have it's absence go noticed. A small simper crossed his features as his fingers so delicately stroked the feline's head, scratching under its chin in a fashion that seemed to all but delight her. A purr rumbled in her chest, prompting a soft chuckle from his lips as he so willingly invited the kitten home, not that Alistair anticipated any sort of response from her. He turned with the cat nestled in his arms, fully intending to continue on that path home and towards his undoubtedly waiting sister when a distinctly peculiar sound caused him to stop abruptly within his tracks. A frown crossed his lips as he shifted, glancing back down that alleyway and towards the silhouette of a man that moved with such assurance down the depths of that dark pathway. It was the glint of the dim street lights upon the silver of his shoes that caused Alistair's gaze to skirt downwards, his eyebrows furrowing at the very sight of those spurs and yet, there was a sort of maliciousness that seemed to surround the stranger, the very likes of sorts he so effortlessly detected.

The man's very presence seemed to all but wipe away any hint of joyousness that had once afflicted the artist, his own voice distinctly frigid as he inquired exactly what the stranger desired, altogether oblivious, at the present moment, of exactly what it was he faced. That sly sort of grin upon the fellow's features was disconcerting, particularly when accompanied with the glint of those slightly sharpened canines. Vampire.. Oh the horror stories he had been told of those creatures that so hunted in the night. Sacrosanct was hardly a safe city by any means, his own family often choosing to hide behind those comfortable iron walls of the Northern neighborhoods. His own venture into the West was, admittedly, a glimpse of his own defiance when he had finally escaped the overbearing presence of his own father. Alistair swallowed that hint of nervousness down, attempting to provide the vampire with that steely gaze as the man paused in front of him, only to claim he was a thief. His emerald eyes narrowed as Darcy's hand rose only to point to the kitten nestled within his arms. A small frown crossed his lips as he glanced down at the cat and yet, Alistair stood his ground despite the click of each of those metal spurs that accompanied the vampire's slow and purposeful gait. "I didn't know she was yours." He commented, all too willing to offer the kitten back to it's rightful owner, regardless of how unexpected the vampire was.

The vampire's announcement that he disliked thieves, however, only caused that frown to deepen upon his features and yet, he hardly offered the man an answer. Rather, his shoulders shrugged ever so slightly, only for the man to be greeted with a high-pitched whistle. The very sound of it prompted the action of the kiten within his arms, the little thing near squirming free of his grip only to leap onto the ground, only to vault up and take its rightful place upon Darcy's shoulder. The very abruptness of it all but surprised Alistair, causing him to take a step back in clear surprise. His gaze swept over the vampire and cat, simply watching the way the feline seemed to so eye him as the vampire's fingers so stroked it's fur. "Look, you got your cat --" Those words hardly finished leaving his lips before the vampire simply disappeared from in front of him, that tug of his hair all but catching the man off guard, pulling him stumbling backwards and into the solid chest of the vampire. It was almost akin to colliding with a wall, the vampire quite near unmoving even despite that sudden weight of Alistair's form against him. "Get off of me." The artist all but hissed as his head was jerked backwards and against the vampire's collarbone.

He was hardly prepared for those words uttered so softly within his ear, that Southern draw so lacing the maliciousness behind Darcy's simple threat as the vampire's fingers reached out to dance across Alistair's skin. That pressure was nothing short of uncomfortable as the vampire so lifted his shirt in the process, his finger leaving a faint red line in its wake. It was, admittedly, almost a relief to hear the vampire lacked that knife or rope and yet, he was hardly ignorant enough to believe he had somehow escaped that danger. Rather, it was that tugging of his hair that resulted in his neck shifting to the side, revealing that long slope of his neck. He shuddered under the wet, slick sensation of the vampire's tongue against his skin. That soft rumble of the kitten in his other ear hardly helped to calm his fluttering heart and yet, that kitten was a far less of a threat to the boy, causing Alistair to press his cheek further towards the kitten in some vain effort to get further away from that mouth with it's sharpened canines, the very action all but displaying further the slope of his neck. "I think I'd rather not. You can just keep your fucking cat." He seethed, all but struggling against the vampire's hold and yet, how quickly aware he was becoming that his efforts to escape were all but worthless, his own strength clearly failing to cause even the slightest of inconvenience to the man behind him.