Hunting. Again. ((Aphartimed to a vague point))

[tyrantmaker]

He knows he's come off the worst against Harth. He doesn't anticipate he'll win easily against this new creature. He will probably lose a few major advantages before he loses his life

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[vampindy]

A pebble sails past his head as he approaches, from behind.

Beckett is sitting on a window ledge, throwing pebbles at random targets, keeping his aim up.

"Welcome back. What's yer name, kid?"

[tyrantmaker]

He could have been a target a lot earlier, he reminds himself.

"Albert Wesker." And let the vampire choose which he'd use. "Yours?" He follows the flight of a pebble.

[vampindy]

"I'm Called Beckett."

He hops off the ledge, stretching, like a cat.

"Catch, Al."

And something small and golden is tossed his way. A ring, definately.

[tyrantmaker]

Wesker observes it on the way, taking a step up and catching it at what, to him, is the usual slow human speed. "But this is so sudden." He turns it over in one hand, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a notebook.

"The information I promised on people's. . . backgrounds. You may have had a look around and noticed why this is relevant."