[Liem is considering the merits of just hauling this scatterbrained aion bodily down the street when the man finally pauses his attempts to stick his hand into the fire and seems to notice his surroundings. Liem breathes a small sigh of relief at the question, but notably does not let go of the man's wrist.]

I asked if you're in possession of your wits. You were in the midst of trying to singe your fingers off.

[His eyes roam sharply over the man, taking in the features associated with the bleached hair and feathered wings. He looks familiar. Liem can recall seeing him at the party some weeks ago, but he's sure that he didn't look like this. Strangely, he hasn't seen any locals displaying physical symptoms like this either.]

Can I persuade you away from this spot, now?