Numair paused in the doorway as the kitchen filled with an expanse of open, golden-brown plains under a heavy, stormy sky. Purple lightning flickered in the thunderheads built up on the horizon, and a low rumble followed. A gust of wind rolled over the plains, tugging his skirt.

He stood silently for a moment, merely taking this in. Then the winged man turned slightly at the counter and caught Numair out of the corner of his eye--a huge crack of brilliant white lightning followed.

"Jesus! God," the man exclaimed, whipping around, "Y'startled th' shit outta me. D'ya always just sneak up on--"

He stopped, because Numair was standing there having clapped his hands over his ears, as though reacting to a loud noise.

"Uh," he said uncertainly, "y'okay?"

"Y...you're very intense," Numair answered thinly, which only made the man look more puzzled. He removed his hands from over his ears, but slowly. "Who are you??"

"Uh, my name's Hawk," the winged man said, seeming equally as baffled by Numair as Numair was by him. He gestured. "Siddown. If...if you want to. Yer shakin'."

Numair realized he was, in fact, trembling slightly, and sank down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "Y-yes I, well," he mumbled, massaging his temples with one palm. "Apologies. I'm a bit..."

Hawk turned back towards the counter. "I'll make ya a plate," he said. Numair opened one eye to watch him do this, frowning slightly.