Dimitri let out a low grunt of annoyance as his jeep pulled up a few feet behind Cristelle's car. It was a nice night, the kind that, after completing his rounds, were spent teaching Brutus how to track on the beach with a couple of dried ghoul skins wrapped around sticks. After that he typically just let the pup run loose for about an hour before he went home. That's how it usually went: What was going on right now however was that he was stuck on cleanup detail for the mishaps of another team. The sights and sounds of Brutus pawing at the window and whining as Dimitri had pulled out of the garage had been pitiful to say the least.

The hunter pushed away the thought as he turned off the engine and stepped out of his vehicle. The massive teen's choice in garments were simple tonight: Dark grey overalls over a thick sweater, some old work boots, and thick gardeners gloves Fashionable? Not exactly. But Dimitri couldn't care less. On hunts like this he dressed for function. Dimitri spared a moment to rummage through the trunk of his jeep, pulling from it his weapons. The handgun was tucked into his waist band opposite his knife, the crowbar tucked into the back portion of the waist band, the shotgun however remained clenched firmly in his hand as he shut the trunk and made his way over to the others that had already arrived.

"[b]How many are there?[/b]" He asked bluntly, the aggravation as clear in his voice as it was on his face.