Quincy nursed his whiskey at the dimly lit bar, the amber liquid sloshing around the glass as his calloused hand gripped it tightly. His tired grey eyes stared vacantly, the flickering neons and muted chatter fading into the background noise of his troubled mind.

This dingy hole-in-the-wall had become his nightly refuge, a place to drown away the demons that tortured his soul. Visions of that fateful night flickered in his mind's eye - Birdie's screams, Alice's tears, his own broken body left for dead. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to block out the haunting memories.

"Another?" The gruff bartender eyed him knowingly.

Quincy gave a slight nod, sliding his empty glass across the pitted wood. As the bartender turned away, something caught the hunter's eye. A figure sitting alone in the far corner booth, shrouded in shadow. There was something...off about them. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his instincts screamed at him - this wasn't human.

His jaw clenched, hand instinctively tensing. Ever since that night, he trusted his gut above all else when it came to the unholy. Pushing away his refilled drink, he stood and made his way over, doing his best to appear nonchalant. He had to play this carefully - he couldn't expose the truth about monsters to the wider world.

As he slid into the booth across from the shadowed figure, they looked up, piercing eyes locking with his. Quincy felt an icy chill run down his spine as their gaze met. Those eyes...those weren't the eyes of anything human.

Quincy forced a polite smile, trying to mask the storm of suspicion raging within him. "Just looking for a bit of company is all. Seems a shame for someone like yourself to be sitting all alone."