Ah, he should have known. Time travel and transdimensional existence can draw the attention of all kinds of metaphysical pests. It's really just an occupational hazard, though at least she's not a pasty intellectual guy from the New England area; those always seem to draw the worst kinds of attention. Still, she's noticeable enough, which is precisely why he's here, offering his help with the warding.

"Already got you covered," he replies, brandishing the bucket of blood in a way that hopefully inspires confidence. "But what in particular makes you think you'll need help? Are you in trouble?" Look, he knows how it is. He got a bit overzealous surfing wikipedia one night, and do you know how unnerving it is to have one's apartment infested with shadow-children? Solid weeks of creeping horror, that you brought on yourself and don't want to ask for help dealing with. "I'm willing to do whatever I can, but it helps to know the specifics."