Well, the night wasn't over yet - not once an overwhelmingly strong mana pool almost set Wes' body to tingling, and that for sure had to be new; he would have noticed that in an instant. It couldn't be the kid, unless his joking suspicion of him somehow being this terrible creature was correct, but even then, wasn't there a football game happening right now? And what, to these simple-minded folk, could be more important than football? Not him, that he was certain of. It was close by. In fact, it was probably right outside the door. Wes was surprised for the second time that night - there probably was not enough time to prepare and orchestrate for a counter-attack of some kind before that person came through the door, so instead he lamely spun on his heel to face whomever - whatever - was about to come through that door. 

	[i]Someone needs some melanin[/i], was the first thought that crossed his mind, and it was true. This guy put Jack Frost to shame with his face, and the white eyes were especially disconcerting. Wes' fingers tightened around the gun he was holding, his blade having been abandoned when he had ducked to get it. Now it felt more like a toy wedged between his fingers, and he doubted it would do much at all.

	When his name was spoken, he had a hilarious moment of doubt that this guy was somehow related to the Disciples, and that somehow they had finally decided to go against their own doctrine; it passed quickly, but still, this guy somehow knew. Wes did not believe he was [i]that[/i] infamous, since he did his best not to be. Unless this guy somehow was on a revenge trip for one of Wes' previous targets, had somehow traced the bullet in a skull back to him and then managed to follow his multiple and quick movements...that was a possibility too. But he stayed his hand for now - unless this guy gave him a reason to attack, revealed himself as an immediate threat, he wasn't going to put himself in a more dangerous situation. He didn't lower the gun, but he did release his finger's slight press against the trigger.

	Before he had the chance to make a response, the man seemed to take an interest in the arm on the floor. So much so, in fact, that his face broke into a wide grin, throwing Wes off slightly. Well, at least someone was having fun with the situation so far. He still kept the gun trained on his new arrival and swallowed heavily as he spoke to the Hunter who was still sitting on the bed, her own biology rebelling against her as the shock, pain, and obvious blood loss caused her to rock slightly as she clung to trying to stay awake. She obviously knew the moment she let herself fall into unconsciousness, that was the end for her.

	Wes was more interested in the moral dilemma this stranger had provided. He had seen situations like this before, but in reverse - cornered Talents promising Hunters power, fame, fortune, whatever they thought most likely to get them out of there whole or at least alive - but he had never seen any of them take it. Then again, the Hunters were never the ones in danger, especially if there were two or three of them up against even a terribly powerful Talent. Did he feel guilty for what he had done to her? Not particularly, since she had probably done far worse to plenty of perfectly innocent people - people, not just Talents, they were humans first.

	The Hunter was having very different thoughts. She could hardly hear what the man was saying, but at that moment, anything that promised to take away the suffering was extremely appealing, and he was right - if she lived and went back as a cripple, what would they think of her then? Defeated by an ex-Disciple, humiliated in front of her peer? It wasn't like they would offer her the Talent this guy would, to fix her - she would become an exile too, but not an honourable one. If anything, maybe her own brothers and sisters would turn on her. And would they know? If he did it right, would anyone know? In a second, she could turn back the tables against these two and return home with a powerful Talent and the traitor's heads without even looking scratched. What was there to be lost for her?

	Maybe it was the blood loss, but she did trust this man, and thus she mustered the strength she had left and muttered "please, yes."

	Wes couldn't help it; he briefly giggled aloud. Though the situation wasn't that funny, more barbaric than anything, this supposed proud Hunter, who would take death before the hand of a Talent, was reduced to a begging mess. Fuck it, it [i]was[/i] funny. Whether she lived or died now, it would be in absolute shame, and what would whatever gods she had think of that?