You know, most people don't actively look for someone to kick their ass. That's not a thing most people do to pass a boring Saturday night.

But here we are anyway. The crunch of approaching footsteps, and a very familiar, vaguely annoyed but mostly concerned voice speaking over top of him.

"Ye don't half ass fuck things up do ye?"

He'd been out, actually, to collect a certain night blooming flower, necessary for a particular charm he'd been attempting to perfect. So of course he'd be out now.