The Naked Man on the Landing

When I came back home a few minutes ago, there was a naked man sitting on the landing right next to my frontdoor. He seemed to be the temporary victim of either a stupid joke, or else a domestic dispute. He was rather self-composed for a naked man, and had found refuge on my landing since it's on the top floor, with little passage here. He told me not to worry, all would be sorted out in a moment. He didn't seem in a humorous mood, and anyway I was so surprised I couldn't think of what to say, once I decided he was not some drunk who'd piss on my door or settle permanently on my rug if I let him.
In the time it took me to enter my flat, find some clothes for him and return to the landing, he was gone.