Miami - Sun, Sand...Hurricane?

[Florian Raniari]

Sastre smirked at Bastian's words.

In a strange way, the younger hunter reminded Sastre of himself at that age: confident, full of himself, and exuding bravado. He chuckled, shaking his head. He'd changed, that was for sure, and sometimes he wondered if it was really for the best...

When Bastian revealed his name, though, Sastre was taken a bit by surprise. Blair... What were the chances, really? Although it had been some twenty or so odd years since he'd last spoken with Lexi... She and Max had had a kid then, right? He furrowed his brow, for he didn't particularly like thinking about the old days...

"Blair, huh?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible. "This sort of a... family business for you?" While he waited for a response, Sastre went about gathering up his supplies, walking a bit stiffly and groaning as he reached down to pick up the items from the floor.

He was getting too old for this...

[bastian]

Bastian raised a brow when Sastre seemed to know his last name (which from this point on is James >.>) and leaned against the nearest wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a confident glint in his eye. He knew people had heard of his family, but the question was, was Sastre friend or foe.

"Maybe," Bastian said, his fingers lightly wrapped around the butt of the gun. Honestly he didn't think this guy to be a threat, but you couldn't be sure. Not with all the psycho's out here. Besides for all Bastian knew the old man had Alzheimer and didn't know where he was. Random bouts of coherent thoughts before going nutty again.

Okay so that really wasn't likely. "What do you know about the James clan?" See, straight forward questioning. It worked so much better than Bastian's wild and crazy thoughts taking him in twenty different directions.

[Florian Raniari]

Sastre leaned against the wall, rubbing his shoulder absently.

Memories came flooding in, from years long past. God, things had been so different back then, so much better... The Old Man, Solphi, Carey Coulter, Lexi and Tristian James... He'd had friends then, people who'd had his back no matter what. People he'd cared about. But he'd turned his back on all that a long, long time ago. He'd turned his back on them, to keep them safe.

He sighed, looking down and suddenly feeling very, very old, and tired. Twenty-five years of living this life, this self-imposed exile and penance, it was finally taking its toll on him. But it had worked, just like he'd known it would. By staying away from people, by not getting close to anyone, Sastre hadn't created any new targets for Darian. He hadn't seen or heard anything from the vampire in over five years now, and the few struggles they'd had since the night of Solphi's death twenty-five years ago had been nothing compared to the all-or-nothing battles they'd had in the past.

Returning to the present, Sastre looked up at Bastian and smiled, the expression tinged subtly with sadness.

"I used to be friends with a Lexi James... Your mother, I'd bet." His smile broadened a bit, becoming a little more genuine as he added. "Oh yes, now I remember you... You were just a baby last time I saw you, though..."

[bastian]

Bastian eyed the man for a moment. He'd known his parents...his father? Hell apparently he'd known Bastian when he was a baby. It was always awkward to be out hunting and then find out that someone hunted with your parents and knew you when you were nothing but a snot nosed kid. They usually had embarrassing stories that Bastian was all to happy to forget. If Sastre said that he once upon time changed Bastian's diapers that would be extremely awkward.

"You knew my father?" That did peak Bastian's interest. His dad had died some years back, and it always seemed like the best stories came from other hunters. Idly he wondered if Sastre had any, but then he realized how childish this all sounded. Besides there was no need to bother the old hunter with questions of the past.

"Anyways, nice job." He started packing up his gear and glanced out the small window of the door. "Storms passing. We should be able to head out soon."

[Florian Raniari]

Sastre nodded agreement.

Having already gathered up his own equipment, the older hunter leaned against the wall, patiently waiting until Bastian had all of his gear accounted for. All the while, though, Sastre was watching him, wondering about Lexi, and what had become of her life? Truth be told, he'd thought a lot about his old friends over the years, but it was worse not that he had one of their children right before him. Dozens of questions ran through his mind, but he knew that he shouldn't ask any of them. Hell, he knew that he'd have to tell Bastian not to mention to Lexi that they'd even met.

"Sebastian, I have a favor to ask you," Sastre said, watching him intently. "Make sure you don't mention running into me to your mother, okay? It's better if she doesn't ask you too many questions about me, and better still if she doesn't try and find me..."

He felt a bit bad about asking this of Bastian, but he simply couldn't have anyone from his past trying to track him down. They'd be in danger if they did, and he wouldn't have anyone else's blood on his hands. Everyone would be much better off just pretending like he didn't exist, like he'd never existed at all.

"And one more thing, if you don't mind," he added with a half-smile. "I could use a ride out of here. Where are you heading?"

[bastian]

Huh well that was interesting. An old friend of his mothers not wanting his mother to know that Bastian had ran into that old friend. That sentence even confused him. He began putting away his weapons and composing himself again. "Uh sure?" He gave Sastre a sidelong glance as he moved over to the door and shoved it open. "Any particular reason?"

Bastian walked out into the aftermath of the hurricane and realized it was going to be a bitch getting out of this place. Palm tree's and debris were littered everywhere, but he and the stang, well they'd make it work.

"No problem. Really there's only one way to go from here. That's North my friend." He grinned and started walking towards the garage that house his car. "So the question is, where do you want me to drop you?"

[Florian Raniari]

Sastre shrugged, shouldering his bag and following Bastian out.

"People who get close to me end up dead, more often than not. It's safer for her if she just thinks I'm gone." The hunter furrowed his brow, feeling a bit awkward to be talking about this, honestly. He wondered if fate was at play here, for what were the chances that out of every possible young hunter he could've run into, it would have been Lexi's son? Clearing his throat self-consciously, Sastre finished, "So, I can trust you right?"

He was glad when the subject was changed, and Bastian asked him where he wanted to go.

"I have some business to take care of in Atlanta," he answered, following the young man to a nearby garage. "I don't expect you to take me all the way, but any little bit would help. Thanks."

[bastian]

Bastian shrugged at Sastre's explanation. If he didn't want Bastian telling his mother that they'd been on a hunt together that was fine. Unless something happened where his mom needed to know, well then, he figured she didn't need to know. It's not like her gave her a play by play account of what happened when he was on a hunt anyways. "No problem."

He blinked at Sastre. "You're kidding right? You do realize Georgia is just north of Florida. Ergo I have to drive through that state as well." He unlocked his car and slipped inside, unlocking the passenger side door for Sastre. "I'm passing through Atlanta to get where I'm going so I'll just drop you off and be on my way." Pulling out a card he handed it to Sastre. "Incase you need to get in touch with me again."

He waited for the old man to get into the car and then he zoomed out of the parking lot. No one was on the streets yet, which was a good thing. It'd make it a hell of a lot easier to high tail it out of town before too many questions were asked about what happened in that gym.

[Florian Raniari]

Sastre smiled at the car.

It was a nice piece of work, if a bit flashy, and perfectly suited to Bastian's personality. Cars had always been a weakness for Sastre in his younger days, before he'd given up on all that and entered into this life of exile. And having a car--nice or not--was one of the things that the hunter missed the most, for there were times when it was just so wearisome to walk everywhere, or to rely on the generosity of others for transportation. The latter was particularly hard when you looked like a ragged, homeless beggar.

But, Sastre would have it no other way.

Taking the card from Bastian, the old man slipped it into his pocket without question. The truth was, he probably wouldn't ever look at it, for he he'd never dream of pulling Bastian or any other hunter into his world. The kid was good, there was no doubt about that, but Sastre would never put anyone else at risk again.

Not ever.

Closing his eyes, Sastre leaned his head back against the seat, thinking about the job to come. Everything he'd heard, all the details that his contacts could provide, it all pointed to one thing: Scherez, a rakshasa and one of his oldest enemies, was in Atlanta. And, apparently, the creature was doing everything it could to find out Sastre's whereabouts.

The hunter wouldn't let him down.

((Finished.))