Alistair looked somewhat surprised at the woman who deigned to speak to him; in truth, he felt somewhat bad for imposing upon her closing time, though it passed after a brief moment of consideration.

'Are you always this nice to customers who ruin your night? Or am I an exception?' He gave her a soft wink before continuing the slow draining of his glass, enjoying the all too familiar burn in his throat; the warmth as it spread from his stomach to the rest of his body. He pulled his cigarette pack out, offering her one. 'Smoke? Make the night that much more bearable.'

He pulled one out for himself, laying the pack down on the counter; pulling a lighter from his pocket, he lit the cigarette and pulled hard from it, letting the acrid smoke exhale through his nostrils. In truth, the man was pretty distracted. Not that stopped him from noticing the small things, how the place smelled; the way the lights flickered, almost unnoticeable.

The man stared into the glass, swirling it idly within his fingers.

'Well, the world is a shithole and full of people like me, who are so selfish as to ruin another persons night when they should be out, free and unchained to experience the many wonders of this world. It bothers me sometimes, that I can be so heartless as to deny you your wondrous pleasures the rather young night is to offer.' He shrugged. 'But that's the liquor talking. In truth, I am carefree; just passing through, on my way home.'

He looked up at her, 'Is there something bothering you?'

Alistair exhaled heavily, smoke clouding up around him; the acrid scent of brimstone and ash wafting from him. The cigarette remained unlit, however, as it rested between his lips. One of the few joys of modern age, the readily supply of tobacco. Although, back in his childhood, he wouldn't have needed such a cover.

He'd oft thought about passing as some cheap magician, but those guys were kind of lame. He still had some pride in himself.

But that pride had given way to something of an uncaring nature, a nature unsympathetic to those around him; that nature surrounding him in a melancholic aura that left the silver hues dead to the life that lived within.

He exhaled again, the same acrid smoke filling the air as his shoulders rolled in a shrug, loosening the jacket around them. His eyes closed, inhaling the smells around him as his body relaxed against the cool night air; the small breeze ruffling the long hair of Alistair; the silver being cast in an odd light as he began to walk, prowling the night for a place to drink.

Alistair had found himself in heart of the city before too long, passing by several places that had not passed his standards. Everything was too quiet or too loud; too many people, not enough. He sighed, irritation creasing his eyes. The exhalation releasing a spout of flame that burned the cigarette that rested so loosely upon his lips. He spit it out, disgusted, and replaced it with another.

He had passed a rather nice place, though it had recently closed; his eyes tracking the single woman finishing up inside. A small frown had existed then, watching with mild curiosity as to why she was alone, but shrugged.

What difference did it make?

In the end, he allowed himself to place small wards to protect the woman; wards that would dissipate come the dawn. When she had noticed his mucking around, he waved, gave a half smile, and left. A smile was on his face at her confused, if somewhat frightened look, on her face.

Not every time someone as beautiful as Alistair graced the world; if that beauty had been born of silver, cast in the image of the Grecian gods. But it was a beauty that was muted, diminished somewhat by the sands of time, allowing him a more rugged beauty. Still, he remained in his prime, in his thirties. But he knew the woman wasn't looking at him for that reason.

Entering the building he favored, he found himself at the bar, sipping idly at whiskey; fingers moving unconsciously along the wood.