Last night had been many things, all of them being exactly what neither he nor little sister needed being so fresh to the vast community of Sacrosanct. It was far from the debut that the man with messy caramel colored locks intended, having only wanted to enjoy a night to himself while his sister was off doing college girl things. He'd wanted nothing more than a few strong drinks to get that warm buzz going, and he'd even found himself the local burlesque with those hardly dressed women dancing on that red stage at the other side of the establishment. Everything had started out fine. No, more than fine. Perfect was a better word for how the first.... five minutes had gone. The only thing that could have made the better in those first few moments would have been an open seat somewhere closer to the stage where he would have been able to have a much better look at the exotic dancers. Perhaps had there been such a seat, the night would have gone every bit how he had intended. Perhaps if he would have been able to sit in the front row of that fancy stage, he would have been able to drink his past away for the night before staggering home where he would wait for Elain to return home in one piece. Ah, but as Lazarus had learned those years ago, life had an annoying way of doing exactly through opposite of what he wanted it to do.

That damn witch had moved much faster than he'd expected. He could remember the way that her hand had flown out towards his chiseled face, taking him by surprise when suddenly flames swallowed her smaller yet certainly strong hand. Out of pure instinct and reflex, he had jerked his head out of harm's way only to feel the searing warmth kiss the skin of his cheek. Like a dumbass, he'd been so focused on her hand that he'd forgotten about the rest of her. He'd been so certain that her aggressive outward reach had been her intended attack and for a moment that wolfish grin had grown upon those undeniably handsome and rugged features, but quicker than he even had the chance to think or follow, she swept out a leg and sent him stumbling down to the hard floor of the burlesque. By now, several eyes had been peeled on the sudden disturbance in the sultry and almost lazy ambiance, and inwardly he scolded himself for having been so poorly prepared for a combination attack. There was little doubt in his mind that had his father or uncle been there to see him get his ass handed to him by a witch, their hardened gaze would have been full of disgust and disappointment. The very thought only fueled his rage then, locking his own powers from use. They'd always told Lazarus he needed to figure out how to get that temper of his under control...

He remembers looking up at the woman with fury burning brightly in his own dark forest gaze that nearly matched the fire in her own, daring her to follow through with her threat as she pulled her fist back to give him anther square punch to the face. He hadn't even felt the scorching of his skin in that fleeting moment, and just as quickly as it had all happened it was brought to a screeching halt as the bartender finally spoke up. The yelllow-bellied coward. He would never forget that smug grin she'd given him as the witch stepped over him and disappeared out the door. He'd picked himself up and made his own way out the door, only then realizing the sting of his skin on his defined and well-muscled chest, the fabrics of his undershirt seared black. With a growl, he walks home with that hood drawn over his head and when he finally arrived home, Elain had greeted him at the door as she always did when she got home before Lazarus only to gasp and demand what he'd been doing, all the while scolding him about how she'd told him to stay out of trouble. As always though, she'd softened when she saw the angry red skin beneath the pieces of burned shirt and offered to help him. With his pride sorely wounded and his mood in even worse shape, he'd simply snapped that he didn't need her help, storming up to his room and slamming the door without even going to the bathroom to wash the damaged tissue. Instead he'd simply removed the ruined shirt from his torso, changed into his black sweat pants, and went to bed.

Even when the weak light of morning filtered through the blinds of his window, he remained tucked away beneath those covers, his entire frame stiff and sore while his face throbbed from where that infuriating woman had managed a solid blow. Only when the sound of the front door opening and closing reached those sensitive ears did he appear from his room to shower and clean his wound before returning to his room where he stayed, deciding he'd rather just sleep until dinner. Hours went by as he shifted between sleep and awareness, but it wasn't until again the sound of that wooden door opening accompanied by voices that he finally drug himself or of bed, curled and unkempt caramel hair in wild disarray he doesn't even bother to try and fix. Ellie was home, and she'd managed to bring someone home. An exasperated sigh escapes him as he thinks of how his sister always had a knack for meeting people and bringing them home like lost pets and as he opens the door to his room to move down the stairs, he wonders just how she'd found this time. Stretching out toned arms, mouth gaping in a wide yawn, he walks down the stairs."Ellie? Who did you pick up this -", tenor tones call out to the honey-blonde young woman clanking around in the kitchen only to stop mid sentence when dark forest eyes turn to the couch and who else would he find there than the psycho woman with long white locks and brilliant blue eyes. Almost immediately, amidst the sheer surprise that flicked plainly across his features, he feels his fists curl."YOU!? What the fuck are you doing in my house?!", he nearly snarls at the witch. He doesn't even turn to his little sister as he expects her to come storming out of the kitchen to tell him not to be such an ass to their guest. Her guest, anyway. How the young woman reminded Lazarus so much of their mother and he loved Elain dearly for that quality, but this was unacceptable. Had he been an actual wolf, there was no doubt that his hackles would be raised and glistening white teeth bared as he debates throwing her out despite whatever protest Elain was bound to defy him with.