He had his hair pulled back, and was wearing a black tank top with red trim to do the work he needed to do. He hadn't expected to see her, but he didn't ever really care what he wore at a certain time, though most of what he had was orange, red, and black. He leaned over, noticing the fire hitting her hand, but remembering how eagerly she had taken his hand when it was on fire. he touched the bottom of the jacket, and it immediately went completely up in flames, turning to ashes in seconds. "Thought I could help a bit."
When she asked him what was up, he straightened up, starting to dump most of his singed clothes into the washer, putting out the things he needed, none of which was fabric softener. "Just working. I got an under the table job at a chinese restaurant. Helps that I can speak the language."