[Borrowed clothes, the peak of a bandage, both of them harried and slightly hysterical. Caleb stands, looking pathetic and exhausted and like he's just barely holding himself up, wringing his hands together anxiously. Frumpkin winds around his ankles, mewling softly.
He steps towards them, careful of his familiar but also stumbling a little bit, giving a small gesture to the scattered remains of their bedroom door.]
...what...? That was fire. That was...explosive fire.
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He steps towards them, careful of his familiar but also stumbling a little bit, giving a small gesture to the scattered remains of their bedroom door.]
...what...? That was fire. That was...explosive fire.