She can't help the light laugher that bubbles from her soft lips as Alistair sees fit to rise to the bait of her humor. It pleased her to elicit such a response from him, to break past the seemingly stoic façade he was so eager to present to the world and get a genuine reaction. He had a nice laugh, and she couldn't deny his smile was rather cute. "Luckily the Ark has... had a lot of storage and I hear they made excellent napkins." Sarcasm is something she possessed in spades, always good at twisting something unpleasant so it was at least slightly more humorous even if bits of the truth were buried within. It was easily the coping method she so often chose, easier to bury her true feelings and feign nonchalance than expose the how she really felt. Over time she had become used to presenting that mask to the world, a more palatable version of who she wished to be while allowing her to avoid making actual connections that could leave her vulnerable. It was better that way, easier she had convinced herself. Still she was breaking her own rules a bit, getting more personal with the Hunter as she couldn't resist inquiring more about where in that building he lived.

He seemed a touch surprised that she lived there at all, though quick enough to agree with her reasoning as to why they had never crossed paths within that building. For a moment she wondered if the same would be said moving forward, knowing he was just down the hallway cast a different light on things in her mind at least. She didn't have many friends to speak of outside of the Ark, and maybe it was presumptuous but she was beginning to think she wouldn't mind seeing more of the dark haired artist. His agreement to let her peruse his precious sketchbook only stoked that notion further, her hands taking it from his grasp with reverent delicacy as she became engrossed in the scene he had so skillfully captured.

Lowering herself to the sand beside him, her shoulder nearly brushing his own she couldn't keep herself from asking about keeping the piece for herself. Everything about it spoke to her, and the fact that it so perfectly captured his moment only added to its appeal. She didn't hesitate as she shook her head in disagreement to his flippant attitude toward it, fully aware that it was a sketchy, incomplete piece that typically he might never have spared a second thought. Her genuine words seemed to give him pause as she looked into his dark, fathomless eyes as he studied her in return. His head tilted ever so slightly even as her sweetheart lips pull up into that soft smile as if he hadn't expected such passion from the Were, and she found herself wondering what he was thinking. He seemed to come to a decision as his gaze swept back to the choppy waters as the waves crashed endlessly onto the beach. Her hazel eyes followed his as he replied, accepting her words yet as he continued on so perfectly capturing exactly why the piece meant so much to her she can't resist turning back to study the fine lines of his face in profile.

Backlit by the muted light of the stormy skies overhead, the dark clouds a perfect accent to the dark tendrils of hair that whipped around his face she wished she were an artist to recreate what she saw there. "You're exactly right." She acquiesced, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the sound of wind and wave "Thank you." Those last words softer but no doubt able to be heard as she had learned hunters possessed that heightened hearing not terribly different from her own kind's. With the matter settled she couldn't resist delving into the depths of that sketchbook further, uncovering such a myriad of work from logos to other sketches and detailed pieces it nearly flabbergasted her. Not until she came to rest on the building that was both unique and beautiful did she voice her curiosity, going so far as to ask what his focus had been at that prestigious academy when he identified it as Yale where he had studied. "Running the gamut to both ends of the spectrum there. You don't often hear of those two majors paired." Law and art were about as opposite of studies as you could get she imagined and wondered if studying the former at all had been his choice or a means to an end to follow his true passions. "Did you enjoy it?" She can't help but ask, her eyes had travelling back to the drawing cradled so delicately in her hands until he asked about her own education.

Pulling her aquamarine eyes back to his shadowed face she offered him the lightest simper, though a bit of disquiet lingered in her gaze. "No, I got accepted to Harvard but... I never made it." Her shoulders rolled in a light shrug, it was something she still regretted slightly but not for most of the traditional reasons. She had closed that door when she had run from her family and all the expectations which they had laid on her shoulders, and it had been nailed shut when she was turned. What good did dwelling on what could have been do?