Bjørn watches Tipson from the corner of his eye as the car begins to move, the question he poses is quickly answered as the young man calls it boring. The corners of the hunter's lips turn upward slightly, a gruff, humorless snort is exhaled through Bjørn's nose as he maneuvers his car out onto the well-lit streets. A thought flickers across his mind and, for a brief moment, the older man ponders if should he tell Tipsy about himself. What would the young thief think of him if the hunter spoke of the years he spent alone in self-imposed isolation? Or the fact that it is easier to have just a few belongs for the time when he will inevitably move. Would Tipson feel pity if Bjørn told him that the hunter has already lived a lifetime alone? That everyone he has ever loved or cared about are buried somewhere far from here.
The hunter loves deeply and cares for people completely, which is why he has taken steps to shield his heart from others. The pain of their departure, whether from natural or unnatural causes, always leaves a scar on Bjørn's heart. No, the hunter knows there is no point in talking about such things. It is better to keep his stories to himself and others at arm's length. Thoughts come and go like the passing streetlights and silence falls in the car for a time. When Bjørn speaks up, asking about the story Tip will tell, the hunter's carefully constructed walls are firmly in place, his stoic expression only breaking for the lifting of an eyebrow. Tipsy gives a wave of his hand, a story falling from his lips as easily as the truth comes from the hunter and Bjørn gives a short nod.
Then Tipson asks why he is taking him and about not being in his job description. A dry chuckle rumbles out as the hunter says,