John slipped out as quietly as he could, and left the door open so he could get back inside quick if he saw anyone. Maybe there would be a stray cat. He listened hard, and heard something moving close by. Not a cat, for sure - this was slurred mumbling and a curious rumbling sound. Curious, he stuck to the shadows as best he could and peered around the corner.
A grizzled old man in rags was staggering towards him, pushing a battered shopping cart full of junk. He was obviously drunk, and as John watched, he let a bottle slip from his fingers to shatter on the sidewalk. The careless litter annoyed John, but then he figured the guy was so far gone he probably hadn't realized he dropped the bottle.
The magic boiled inside him, demanding release. John tried to focus his thoughts. How did it work? Something small first. Clothing. He stared at the derelict's rags and imagined them whole and clean. For a moment, nothing happened. But then he felt a tickle in his head and barely suppresed a gasp as the rags brightened visibly and pulled together. In the space of a few seconds, the old man was wearing a nice-looking sports coat over new denim jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. He remained oblivious, shuffling and muttering down the sidewalk.
John decided to try something more drastic. He focused on the old man and willed him younger. That was hard, because he couldn't tell much about how the guy looked. Still, the magic was demanding release. He focused hard and let it out. The flow was a tickle at first, but then flared up suddenly in a hot flash of blue-white that shot towards the old man. It engulfed him and then seemed to sink in. Curiously, the old man showed no sign of seeing the magic. Maybe only John could see it.
As before, nothing happened right away. But then the old man stumbled and cursed, shaking his head as he seemed to expand. Muscles filled out, his matted gray hair darkened and appeared to get trimmed, and his beard fell out. Before he had taken five steps, the derelict appeared to be a man in his thirties! He was still drunk and oblivious, though his movement smoothed out as old injuries and arthritis vanished. Five more steps and he was in his twenties.
John frowned as the the now-young man in the ill-fitting clothing. He had gained height and muscle, but now seemed to be getting smaller again. Oh, shit! The derelict was now a boy in his teens, heading rapidly for pre-pubescence! He had to stop this before the guy ended up regressing back to before he was conceived!