He could smell it in the air - that scent of rain all the more poignant than he had ever remembered it before. There were times when Alistair simply...forgot the intensity of those new Hunter senses, times when he was once again taken about by the potency of those colors, smells, and sensations. Softly, he inhaled a fresh breath of air, basking in the petrichor upon the squall as opened his sketchbook, sifting through the pages for the first empty one. He was entirely oblivious of the woman who watched him as he plucked a graphite pencil from its place, the vibrancy of his gaze instead lingering upon the crashing waves of the seashore in front of him as Alistair started yet another seascape. They had, since his move to the West, monopolized those freehand sketches, each one different, and yet, they'd somehow served as a calming way to clear his proverbial slate when whatever work occupied him had become a challenge. The sound of his pencil effortlessly brushing against the thick page of his notebook was drowned out by the violent crashing of the waves. That sound near all-encompassing and yet, it hardly stopped those Hunter senses that all but slammed into him.

Alistair was still terrible at ignoring them, his head lifting near immediately from his work as his gaze scanned the beachside. It was the sight of movement out of his peripheral that garnered his attention, the man well aware of what she was quite before he realized he also knew who she was. With the woman at what he deemed a safe distance away, and her own attention primarily preoccupied with the ocean itself, Alistair saw little reason not to return to his own affairs. The emerald of his gaze returned to his sketchbook as he began to give the vague outline of those waves far more detail, his pencil moving deftly, bringing a hint of hyperrealism to that black and white sketch. Alistair paused yet against as those instincts became far more nagging, the Were was clearly closing the distance between them. He glanced up, the emerald of his irises effortlessly refinding her petite figure before that recognition hit him, quite at the same moment that she too seemed to truly notice him. What were the coincidences of this?

"Carolina." He offered in response to her, his gaze altogether attentive to the way the corner of her lips seemed to perk upwards. It was her comment of his 'rebelliousness', however, that brought the first true hint of bemusement to his features as the Dark Hunter chuckled. Oh, if only she knew! Alistair was quite certain his own father would have deemed him the epitome of rebellion. "Uh...something like that...what about you? Should you be......" His voice trailed off as he glanced down the dockside. At the Ark. Shouldn't she be at the Ark? "What...happened to the boat anyways?" He inquired, his eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly in vague curiosity. Alistair, after all, was rather...out of the loop when it came to news both in the West and within the ranks of his own species, his knowledge of the missing floating cargo ship entirely restricted to the vague realization that something felt off about the city's skyline before he realized what it was. It was her comment of where he lived, however, that prompted a small shrug on his shoulders. "Oh, yeah, I moved in about...a year ago now, I think." Just before winter...just before he had been turned...though those details hardly mattered now, he supposed.

Alistair had, admittedly, almost forgotten the sketch he had been working on now that Carolina had joined him. For a moment, he glanced down at his work, only to look back up at her in a far more judgmental stare than he had ever offered her before. After all, Alistair trusted...distinctly few with that book, those pages filled with his illustrated thoughts and dreams, drafts for his clients' projects, and other mindless doodles he so rarely shared with the world. Still...Carolina was...different than the last woman who had asked after that same thing. For one, she wasn't inebriated. "Um....sure." He commented at last, handing her the singular book that was perhaps the most important thing in his world. After all..what was the worst she could do? Throw it in the sea? Actually...maybe he shouldn't consider that....