::The landlord unlocks the door to a dingy room with a stove, fridge, bed and small bathroom through a door that looks like it doesn't close properly.::

"Here's your room."

::With a smirk, he hands Ozy the key and leaves.::

::Ozy sighs at the general shithole he's just been presented with.::

"Always knew I'd be living in my dream home before I was thirty."

::He shuts the door and checks the place out, pretty disgusted with it.::

(It's all I can afford. It'll do.)

::Realising it's late, he takes off his shoes, socks and trousers before lying down on the uncomfortable bed, falling into a disturbed sleep.::

::Ozymandias snorts in his sleep, and this causes him to wake up. Slowly, he sits up and rubs his face, his senses gradually returning to him. He remembers the previous night, and all that occurred. With a sigh, Ozy gets up and walks into the bathroom to have a shower. He undresses and steps precariously into the rickety old thing that he assumes is the shower and turns it on, thinking about his next move while he washes. New clothes, for a start. And then maybe he should get to know some of the people around town, the witches, as long as he stays away from Leo Wyatt and his goofy friend. Shaking his head dismissively about the both of them, Ozy finishes up and towels himself with his own towel, getting dressed into his sole other set of clothes.::

"Right."

::He cleans his teeth to the best of his ability without toothpaste, and smooths down his hair.::

(Remember: nice boy.)

::Sniffing, he opens the door and walks out to the hallway.::

::Ozy walks inside and sighs.::

"Well, this is depressing."

::He flops down onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling, thinking.::

[There's a sharp flash of light as Paz appears by the door.]

::Ozymandias is on his feet in seconds, pulling his fists up in front of him ready to fight.::

(Him?)

"Put your fists down, dude."

::Paz doesn't look impressed.::

"You need help, apparently."

"I don't need anything from you. Get out of my apartment."

::Ozymandias is perfectly aware that he's living in a room, not an apartment. Also that he's grubby, dirty and probably smells.::

"Look, I'm sorry I was an ass before, but you can't exactly blame me. I had no idea who you were and you were trying to held my amnesiac friends to some unspecified location."

::He breathes in a little to calm himself.::

"What's your story, anyways? You're no mere mortal. You're not even partly surprised by all the magic you've seen here."

"What I am surprised at is your gall to come in here without even knocking and start demanding answers. Who the hell are you, pal?"

"I'm Paz. Erin sent me here to see you."

::He hesitates to take a seat, due to the fact that the location is less than tidy. Despite Ozymandias' grubby state, he can't help but note how knee quiveringly hot he is. He reaches toward the door and knocks on it while still looking at Ozymandias.::

"Better?"

::Ozy stares at Paz for a few seconds, before letting out a short laugh.::

"That your manners catching up with you, huh?"

(Maybe I should...)

::He looks pensive. He's not good at, well, being nice to people.::

::Paz takes a step forward, shaking his head lightly.::

"I don't mean to just appear in here and start trying to pull answers out of you, I'm sorry. I was sent here to help, and I want to help. Unless you tell me at least something about what's going on, then I can't."

::He looks down at his hands as he gestures, then pauses.::

"Who are you?"

"Ozy."

"I got your name, but nothing else."

::He studies Ozymandias' face for a moment, noting his striking features but the feeling of lonelyness and sorrow he radiates, too.::

"What's your story, Ozy? I only want to help you out like you tried to help my friends before, even though I was a complete dick to you."

"You really were."

::Ozy sighs and sits back down on the bed, leaning against the headboard and drawing his legs up in front of him.::

"So who sent you? Wyatt? "The Elders"?"

::Those were air-quotes for 'The Elders'.::

"I've told you, Erin sent me."

(Wyatt? Who's Wyatt?)

"Tiny girl? A guide of sorts? Needs kitchen roll."

::He motions with his hand as to her height.::

"So you did. Sorry. My mind works at two speeds."

::He shakes her head, laughing at himself.::

"I know who you mean. I don't know why, though... Erin's not usually the meddling type."

"It might have been something to do with the fact that she saw the similarity in us."

::He takes a step closer to the bed Ozymadias is sittling on.::

"Please, I just want to help you. What do you need help with?"

::Ozy leans his head back and puts his hands together in his lap.::

"Nothing. Really."

"Why was I sent here then?"

::Ozymandias pauses and then sighs deeply. He really doesn't like talking about this. Which is why he hasn't. Ever. But it looks like Paz isn't going to go away.::

"Fine. I used to be a whitelighter. Still am, to an extent. In that the Elders left me my immortality and nothing else to punish me."

::He grimaces.::

"I made a few mistakes. A lot. Went... very, very bad. Used my powers in ways you could never imagine. I'm not proud of it. The Elders couldn't touch me until I was out of the Underworld. I was dragged out kicking and screaming."

::He laughs, in a bitter way.::

"The pulled me up there to face the council, I was sentenced to walk the Earth like this. Immortal. Otherwise useless. With nothing but my guilt as company, blah blah blah why am I telling you all this?"

::Ozymandias stares at Paz, starting to look defensive again.::

"I don't need any help. I haven't for over two hundred years. I definitely don't now."

::Paz sits on the bed next to Ozy and looks up at him, disregarding the wall beginning to be built up again.::

"Two hundred years?"

(That's awful.)

"I guess Erin recognised the same thing in myself as in you. My story follows pretty much the same line, except I never got made immortal. I never got punished at all."

(Maybe I needed to be though. God knows I deserved it.)

"You're a witch, right?"

::Ozymandias shrugs.::

"Did you kill anyone?"

::He looks down at his hands for a moment before nodding.::

"Yes, I did. It's not something I'm proud of."

::Biting his lip, Paz looks up to once again study Ozy's face.::

"And yeah, I'm a witch."

::Ozy frowns.::

"And you still have your powers?"

::He nods.::

"I had different powers when I was evil, like, they got perverted."

::Ozy looks up at the roof and shouts.::

"You hear that? He's a murderer and he's still got his powers!"

::He glances back at Paz.::

"No offence."

"Some taken."

::He remains quite quiet, looking at his hands.::

(So how the hell am I meant to help him?)

"I don't understand what I can do to help you..."

"Tell me about it. I don't get how someone with a past like yours is meant to show me the light or whatever. I've tried the redemption thing. I'm sorry for what I did. I've tried to help people. Bastards usually throw it back in my face, of course. You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Look, I'm sorry okay. You're not making it very easy to help you when you act so up your own arse!"

::He rises from the bed, looking pissed off. It's more the frustration than anything else.::

"I didn't know who you were and you were trying to take my friends away. You're telling me that's normal? No. So give it a break and drop it! I've apologised enough. To you and everyone else."

::Ozymandias is too proud a person to make with any apologies. He too rises, moving off the bed and standing up.::

"I really don't think this is going to work."

"Well you're hardly making it easy, are you?"

::Paz looks at Ozymandias, his eyebrow's lower than usual, in a knot.::

"What made you so evil, anyway?"

(A whitelighter, evil? It's not like a witch. How does a whitelighter be evil?)

::Ozy looks curious as to why Paz hasn't left yet, and sighs a little. He shifts his weight, then sits down and shrugs.::

"Nothing."

"So you just... were?"

::He looks curious, though still a little pissed off.::

"I guess. I just... saw that there was a side of life I'd never experienced and fell into it. Look at me, Paz. I died young. I didn't live at all. I was a good little boy who went to med school and did his homework and never messed up. And then it was taken away from me. The whitelighter thing was great at first. I helped people. I saved lives. But I never got my own life. All it was was looking after other people. What about me? Where was my whitelighter when I needed him to heal me when I was lying with a bullet wound in my gut, in my own cold blood? It wasn't fair!"

"You're right, it wasn't. That's the way it worked out though. You were meant to help people, but that came at the expense of you helping yourself."

::Paz swallows, his eyes locked on Ozymandias.::

"You can still... live."

"Well I wanted to really live. I wanted to experience life. So I did. I jacked in the job and left. I didn't tell them that, though. The world of demons is a dangerous one. I'm sure you know. I wanted them to keep me safe while I discovered everything that I'd been training all those witches to do. I was sick of being on the sidelines. I wanted action. I wanted to be there in the battle. So I went. I did well at first. Then bad things happened. I saw new worlds, so much stuff, so much power... so many opportunities to be someone that mattered."

::He pauses, recalling everything so clearly.::

"They send witches first, and whitelighters, to try to get me to see the light. I refused. They would've clipped my wings and let me just grow old and die if I hadn't gone too far. But I did. I killed. I tortured. I was crazy. Then I was powerless and suddenly my status went. I was rejected by my friends. Guess they weren't friends. Evil just finds the strongest power and leeches off it. I should've known. I came back up and, there's no way to say this that doesn't sound dumb... saw the err of my ways. I can still remember the exact moment."

"What happened?"

::Paz breaks his silent intrest with only this question.::

::Ozy sits up a little, his elbows still on his knees.::

"You know... clichés only exist because they have so much meaning, that's so... perfect, the words, the situation, that everything is so perfect for certain events to happen, that they happen often. And they seem so... cheesy, so overdone, when all they are is just... perfect."

::He pauses, then straightens his back.::

"It was winter, I was homeless as usual, begging, you know. When you live on the streets, you learn the best places to beg. Back then it was outside churches. All those people going in and worshipping God and preaching about love, kindness, generosity, it was like a gold mine just waiting to be tapped. This was New York, back then even those people were capable of having hearts of gold. I was sitting, leaning against this picket fence around the church, and they came out, and this little girl, maybe seven, eight years old begged her mom for a quarter, anything, to give to me. She said that God wanted all men to have a chance at a good life, and that people should help people, those who need help, without judgement, with love and kindness. I just sat there, staring. Her mom gave her a silver dollar. She handed it to me, right into my hand. Smiled. Said she hopes things get better for me. When they were walking away, I heard her telling her mom about how she'd learned that the best way to live your life is to treat others how you'd like to be treated."

::He looks at Paz, finally.::

"How could a little girl have learned that so soon when I'd been around for so many more years and still hadn't?"