It's kind of hard to see where that voice is coming from, or even that there's one coming at all over his cursing, but somehow he manages to hear it anyway, and his head darts around, until it lands on the guy near the house.

"Shut up! I'm figuring it out!" He's not. This is a damn mess. But at least the blow to the stomach seemed to knock enough wind out of him that he must have shut off the power, for now at least, because there's nothing clinging to him anymore, he's just surrounded by a sea of metal objects.

He stands, kicks a pot and watches as it flies down the street with a sense of satisfaction, before he turns his attention again to the stranger. Cuts. Right. He has some of those. He probably should get patched up. Who knows what weird ass infections he might catch in this place. And that sure as hell isn't going to be what kills him.

"Yeah, fine."