Pssst. You wanna be a wizard? (Blake the Jersey Devil)

One Week after the Vegas incident

Dimensional disturbances were the domain of the Dabbler witch, but an exceptionally dangerous jaunt that was undertaken back in Vegas hurled Samantha Pratt to nearby Los Angeles, sans memory and insanity. The Immortal Hellbeast had reverted to a emaciated teen with a hat, appearing in real-space in a shady neighborhood, unconscious.

"Oi... what the? where am I? the devil, I'm... alive..." A voice emanated from the witch's cap, but Samantha was knocked out in the middle of a suburban street.

"Oi lass. 'Tis not the time to be laying aboot." Her witch cap muttered again, trying to get his wearer to her feet, but to no avail.

"Blasted bloody hell." The cap cussed, sensing the approach of some soul. Not wishing to be conspicuous, Hatrick blended with Samantha's dress and became a ballcap. This may have been a quiet neighborhood, but a car could still come driving down this road any minute.

Blake awoke with a start on hard ground. He felt asphalt in his back and he rubbed his head trying to figure out where the hell he was. One second, he was… where was he before this? Ugh, headaches are the worst.

He stood up shakily and realized that wherever they were; they were certainly not in the sort of place you wanted to be shirtless and shoeless. Luckily, his wallet seemed to still be in place.

He rolled his shoulders a bit to get the knots out that came with sleeping on asphalt and saw that a girl was also laying on the street knocked out. Seriously, was the wicked witch of the west abducting people via inexplicable tornado magic or something? It certainly seemed odd to see another person here.

He moved over to her; if for no other reason than to ensure she didn't get robbed or worse while knocked out. It was the polite thing to do in situations like this.
Although, that was mainly a guess. They don't exactly teach you what to do when you wake up in an unfamiliar location with a girl knocked out beside you.

This was a nice quiet suburban neighborhood they landed in, and a couple of residents were in the immediate vicinity took notice. An elderly couple in their waning years.

The old man looked at the two, having a more malicious idea of what was going on. "Kids these days, can't even wait to get inside. Hey ya stupid kids get outta this neighborhood! Find a motel or something!"

"...Oh my, Frank I think they're not..." The old lady made a wry smile and noises. "...I think they might be in trouble. The girl is passed out."

"I heard about boys these days with their... special friends... and their special drinks..." Frank said, ever the optimistic chap.

The old lady ignores her husband and walks over to Blake and Samantha. "Dear, are you two alright? You look like you've had a nasty fall. The street is no place for lying down. Our house is just down the street. Frank! Be a man for once and help this young lady!"

The grouchy old man came over and looked at Samantha, then at Blake. The girl seemed thin, and very light. "She's as thin as a willow, the guy can carry her by himself." he said, not offering help.

The old lady looked at him with that certain stare.

"Alright fine. At least she's not one of those latinas or asians. Or blacks." Frank scoops up Samantha by the armpits and neck, waiting for Blake to hold her by the legs. Frank made a more indepth observation. "Hmm, nothing seems broken. Passed out but still breathing. Just a glass of water when she comes to and she'll be better. Let's not bother with an ambulance though, I don't have 800 bucks on me right now."

The old lady smiled that the girl was now being cared for. She patted Blake on the back as they walked. "...I'm Marie by the way, this is my husband Frank. Who might you be, young man? Where did you come from?"

Blake nodded and began lifting the girls legs. "You can call me Bla... Blaine. Call me Blaine. I uh... was born in New Jersey, but I came here from Las Vegas." Blake said, they seemed like a nice couple, but there was no reason to give them his real name unless he was certain that they weren't a threat. Frank seemed like a real nice guy, for a racist. And Marie was definitely someone that he would usually trust. But these days, you never knew who the real friends were.

"I think that I can take her to a hospital. I could probably carry her myself actually." He said doing his best to avoid eye contact. O"I don't want to trouble you guys."