<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">When Wes remarked on Scarlett’s characteristics, she could see how he drew to the similarities between them. Ava didn’t know the Hunter long, but from what she gathered in their very brief encounter in the Shifter territory, Wes shared some of those qualities. His plan that night was sound, but oversimplified in many ways. There was no consideration for other variables or a backup plan to fall back on. It was a very <i>Scarlett</i> thing to do, and in a way she found those qualities quite endearing when they were a source of irritation or trouble. It was why she found herself unable to help the occasional smile that crept onto her lips, or find humor in his terrible movie references or stay too upset with him when he was late. Those qualities were inherent, and she would no more fault him for that than she would her sister when she fell asleep on her shift for stakeouts or refused to wait till the count of three for infiltration. He knocked against the armrest, declaring that they would find her and a twinkle of appreciation formed in her eyes. He was even content with the information she provided, which was a relief since she wasn’t certain how much more she’d feel comfortable divulging. Ava would have been suspicious if he pressed her for more. She felt her answer was satisfactory, and while she wasn’t opposed to disclosing the more benign details of her Order, she would refrain from doing so unless context was necessary. <br/>
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“It’s fine. I’ve done my fair share of lashing out. I’d say we’re pretty even.” She said as she pulled the rifle from her bag so she could get to her handgun and knife. In a holster strapped to her thigh, she made sure she had a clip ready before attaching it to her side. The sheathed blade found a home there as well, the grip exposed that she could easily retrieve it when she needed to. Briefly Ava hoped she wouldn’t. It was for close quarters, and if she could help it the chupacabra wouldn’t ever be less than a few feet away. She was just about ready when she heard liquid sloshing in a bottle. With her brow raised she looked over to see the Hunter with Jack Daniels in hand, the bottle extended in her direction. Ava was pulling on her gloves, watching while he splashed a small amount onto his rifle, for luck it seemed. The act was paired with words that were familiar on her ears, though the meaning behind them was unknown. She recognized that it was Spanish, and for a moment she was impressed. Given his Texas origins it made sense-- like it made sense that many Louisiana natives also spoke French or French Creole. <br/>
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“Strange practice, but everyone has their thing.” She shrugged, taking the bottle and bringing it to her lips. Ava took a small swig, the burn of whiskey sobering like a shock to her system. She turned to lead the way, to conceal the twisted expression that she made until the burn dissipated. She pulled out her phone again, typing in the coordinates to make sure they were moving in the right direction. “Have <i>I</i> ever seen a Grunch? No. I actually didn’t think they were real until a few days ago. But, that description sounds about right. I think we’ll know it when we see it-- <i>if</i> we see it.” Her footfalls were swift as she led the way, tracking toward the blue dot on her screen. “And, ew. Are you one of those country-folk who eat gator and frog legs?” She looked back to see the grin on his face, knowing he was likely joking as he pondered on the idea of Grunch barbecue. As she moved through the woods, the dense clusters of trees and curtains of moss, she was confident and comfortable-- in her element as a Hunter. It was true that the woods weren’t so scary, even when the darkness created strange and monstrous shadows or when nocturnal creatures scurried about. “I like it out here. It’s peaceful, and I sometimes forget that despite the fact that the only reason I come to places like this is to kill something unnatural. Other than that, yeah. Not so scary at all.” She agreed. <br/>
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A ways from the car, through the unbeaten path and towering oaks and cypresses, they were finally approaching the location. Ava could hear the clumsy steps of the lone bovine, confused noises emitted from it as it called for its herd. Up ahead, in an area that was as much of a clearing as they were going to get-- where the trees were sparser than the ones behind them-- there she was; moving about slowly and aimlessly, tied to a thick oak. “My contact didn’t exactly say whether he wanted her back alive or dead, but I kind of prefer the former.” Ava was staring up in the trees, surveying the area for places to post up. "But . . . If that thing is as fast and nasty as the rumors say, we might not have so much say . . . Poor thing." </span>