Far From the Fires

Anyone who happened to look towards the square that evening would have witnessed a bright flash of light as a column of fire seemed to erupt from its heart. The square was undamaged, the stones not even scorched, but the fire had left something behind.

There, lying at its epicenter was a man. His eyes were shut and his body unclad. He appeared to be unconscious. Perhaps, just maybe, he was.

Brock had been having a pretty good night. He'd scored three chicks, took them home, and was currently returning all three of them to their appropriate residences.

"Sorry babes." He said, winking at each of them. "I've got to check this out." They pouted and moaned, but he was adamant about it, and they slouched off without him.

Now downtrodden at the thought of cutting short his play, Brock made his way toward where the light had faded, humming softly under his breath.

He sniffed the air as he came to the square, noting the scent of brimstone. The cobblestone was completely unmarked, however. He wrote it away to spells and sorcery, as he had been for the last few years.

"Oh, what have we here?" He asked himself, looking down on the naked form before him. He whistled softly. "Well, friend, you've gotten yourself in a predicament, it seems." Carefully, he shrugged off his jacket, laying it over the man. He riffled through his pockets for his salts, ready to wake the man up.

The man stirred, drawing in a deep breath. Then, he abruptly opened his eyes. They were brown.

His gaze immediately went to the man standing over him, lip automatically curling back in a faint sneer. He looked down at himself, noting the jacket covering him and - upon further investigation - the fact that he was naked.

"Charming," Djinn muttered. His voice was hoarse, throat unbelievably dry. He sat up, letting the jacket pool in his lap as he looked at his surrounding. Azorat Square. Quietly, he took stock of himself, discontent with what he found.

Satan was a right bastard, sometimes.

Turning his gaze back to the other man, Djinn quietly regarded him a moment. "I suppose a thanks is in order," he rasped, indicating the jacket. And that was as much of a thanks as the man was about to get, as well.

Brock grinned charmingly. "No need to thank me. We've all woken up naked in a town square, haven't we?" He glanced around. "Very nice pyrotechnics by the way. Probably was seen for miles."

Smile still in place, he nodded to the man. "I have extra clothes at my place. Wouldn't be too hard to get you some, if you'd be willing."

Djinn made a noncommittal sound. If only he had been the one to make said pyrotechnics. He was fairly certain that he hadn't been - and that bothered him far more than he would ever admit.

"Very well," he agreed, voice still gravelly from thirst. What an odd sensation, thirst. Rather unpleasant. He levered himself up off the ground, holding the jacket to his front with one hand. The entire world seemed different, somehow, though that thought was preposterous. The world didn't change simply because he had changed...

Or did it?

Brock shrugged. "Follow me." he said, straightening his shirt. He eyed the man before leading him a few blocks away, glad they passed almost no one. He held open the door for the man, walking in after him. The place was a bit shabby, to be truthful, but it was almost made up for by the size and the amount giggling girls running around, some in their underwear, some not.

"Brock!" Came a greeting from a Pack Wolf, nodding his head. "Who's that."

"No one." Brock countered, leading the man up the stairs. He dodged a wolf who was running after a scantly clad giggler, and rolled his eyes. "Ignore them. They're all animals."

He ushered the man into a spare room, after checking that it was unoccupied. "There are clothes in the drawer. Feel free to make yourself at home or leave. You can keep whatever clothes you wish." This was almost standard New Wolf procedure. Brock's place was one of the favorite pack hang outs, but he was only home on occasion.

With a yawn, he left the man alone, leaving him in favor of a blond that passed him. With a sniff he was after her, ending up down in the living room with her in his lap.

Gotta love a Pack Life.

Djinn followed the man. He sneered faintly at some of those they passed in the house. Werewolves, though it had taken him an unprecedented amount of time for him to sense as much. He hoped that that was but a temporary turn of events.

He inclined his head by way of showing gratitude for the offer of clothing. It wasn't as though he could go about naked, after all. Human's were rather hung up on modesty and such nonsense.

Waiting for the man to leave, he finally tossed the jacket aside, tugging open drawers in search of something decent to wear. Frowning, he turned to the narrow closet, finding a selection of dress shirts and suits, among more feminine attire.

Selecting a white button-up shirt and a dark grey suit, Djinn put them on. He then grabbed a pair of socks and a tie from one of the drawers, draping the tie over his shoulders as he pulled on the socks and a pair of men's shoes. Loosely tying the tie about his neck, he briefly considered going out through the rest of the house.

It seemed a rather distasteful option.

Instead, he closed his eyes and attempted to just... leave the dwelling, to vanish from it. It worked. At least there was one thing still in his favor.