Three drunk men were equivalent to maybe one sober individual who had more brawn than wits. Three drunk men stumbled over themselves, even if they had previously been on a straight, narrow path towards whatever their destination was. As a submissive woman, Alexis' needed to get out of the situation quickly, leaving no trace or scent of fear on the air for three drunk men to find her, even if Davante was proving to her that he was at least a pillar of trusthworthy support. Three drunk men? He had seen, dealt, and brutalized more than that and the men were less than the drunk adjective that the three men pursing Alexis' were now. He had seriously debated sending her on her way home by herself and dealing with the men in the bar, ending the situation right there at it's root. But she had looked so small, frail, scared... So much like Elenore. How could he pass up a chance to right a wrong committed years, and years ago when innocence was something valued enough that he should feel guilty for letting a little girl become traumatized. Never again, he had vowed, and it was important that these men were stopped before they were able to victimize anyone at all. So true to form, Davante sent the fox on her way so that he could take out whatever pent up anger on the men who deserved it rather than lashing out at those around him as per usual.

The men were not difficult to get rid of. As he'd observed, they were drunk and had little wit or brawn. For an earth bending warlock, humans were often very easy prey. It was like a game of cat and mouse, and an injured mouse at that. With white, unnerving eyes, Davante had stood in the center of the alley to face the men, absolutely unwavering. Once he had made a decision that he would leave absolutely nothing to the wind and tie each and every loose end up, he could not be moved. Like the man in the mountain, he was stone and still until they made any move. And after? He calmy disposed of the bodies by evaporating their skin and bones into dust that the wind caressed with gossamer fingers, distributing the dust to Mother Nature to do as she pleased.

Calm, rid of any dark energy he may have previously possessed, Davante made his way to Alexis' house. Following her less than explicit finger pointing, he found the building with an expertise ease. After a gentle creak and twist of the metal doorknob, Alexis appeared on the stoop with a surprised and perplexed expression that elicited a snort of exasperation.

"Were you expecting the Grim Reaper?"

As her eyes traveled over him as if assessing any possible damage, Davante exhaled heavily. The exerted effort had taken nothing but a little energy from him. Her offer to help "clean him up" caused the corners of his lips to turn up slightly before he shook his head, although he would have admitted it was always nice to have someone on the other end of a... violent excursion... Davante didn't want to ask her to help him. It was hard enough having let another woman use her power to heal him after getting involved in a very, very disturbing display of injuries; he was slowly learning that women had a need to fix wounds. So with a shrug, he nodded his submission to her request before ducking inside.

The interior of her home felt dark and empty. Was she here alone? No wonder she had been uncomfortable coming home by herself, especially if the men were following her.

"Let me start a fire, and you can get whatever you need?" He suggested, eyeing the fireplace with a brighter gaze. Fires always reminded him of a lighter time where stories were shared over bonfires on a beach thousands and thousands of miles and years away.