Alistair Nyx had been peacefully puking his guts outside (fine, maybe he did kind of deserve it, maybe this is the spirit of Nemesis kicking him in the ass right now because getting drunk right off the bat just to delay the inevitable interrogation session from his twin brother was a remarkably bad idea) when he felt rather than heard someone seeming to approach him, their footsteps were near to non-existent... if it weren't for the hair on the back of his neck seeming to stand up straight in attention at the presence.
And not to mention, this person has a strangely nostalgic scent that would have, should have lowered his guard; it reminded him of a home he could never return to, of a person that he once know of but could never see again.
...but at the same time, the cold waves emitting
