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With a loud clang, Isaac dropped to the floor, turning more than a few heads. In a day and age where magic amplification of strength was the norm, Isaac's REF meant he could take most hits without blinking, much less being thrown to the floor with a bloody nose. Carlyle, however, with his stunted magic, could hit just as hard inside or out of a Reality Enforcement Field: since he couldn't rely on magic, he conditioned himself so that his unenhanced strength was exceptional compared to many others.

The moody Carlyle came across Ty and Cassandra in the seating area connected to the main section where his confrontation with Isaac had occurred.

Ty was reaching for the burger before he even realized it and stopped himself. "No, no. You need to eat - keep your energy up. Shell shock is best treated with food, and we can't have you fainting." He wanted it, anyway. "Shouldn't overload, though; split it?"

A moment later, commotion occurred. Ty looked up to see Carlyle, looking none too pleased with the world. "Carlyle!" he called, waving happily. "Come sit down! We're commemorating the past. Where's Isaac? And how'd the meeting go?" Truth be told, Ty was not actually certain there had been a meeting; it just seemed most likely that one had occurred, since the two of them had hung back. There had been something to do with the Magus-General and Dremmeur... eh, no matter.

"He was on the floor, last I saw. I guess he can't take a punch very well," Carlyle answered, letting the second question drop. "Mind if I smoke? I could really use a smoke right now."

"No worries," Carlyle replied, flicking the holder open but neglecting to light a cigarette in it. "So yeah, 'didn't go so well' is a possible description. On the other hand, Isaac and I now know why the Outlander Confederation split from the Coven in the early years of the war. Apparently the Magus-General and Dremmeur Sai have some history."

"I never said I punched him in the face," Carlyle pointed out. "But yes, that is how I punched him. But uh... yeah, apparently..." He glanced around and leaned in. "The Outlanders seceded because the angels had plans to backstab them and got found out."

"Hmm," Ty mused. "I was never a big fan of the Angels." They wanted all werebeasts dead. It was reason enough for hate in most people; in Ty, it was just a greater willingness to try to kill them if the opportunity and reason presented itself.

At first, he didn't really have an opinion on Carlyle and Isaac fighting one another. Then something started bothering him that it took him a few seconds to pick out: Isaac was pack. They had made pack in the battle on the ship. Part of him wanted to stay there and eat, but instinct was gnawing at him. You can't break pack, once it is made.

"I'm gonna go see where Isaac went. Make sure he's... okay." It sounded like a lame reason to him, but that was because he wasn't well-accustomed to the concept of being emotionally wounded. All he knew was that pack couldn't be broken. He threw the two of them a smile and set down the last of Cass's burger. "Hope you feel better, Cassandra. I'll catch up with you two later."

He went to the spot where Isaac had fallen, then followed the scent from there, eventually catching up with the Knight. Granted, it wasn't easy, what with how many different scents were permeating the air, but he managed to keep track of it. "Hey, man. Carlyle upset with you for some reason? He said he punched you. You let him do it?"

Ty cocked his head at the Knight and fell into stride with him. He was confused. Why would you ever not hit someone back? Unless it was the alpha... ah. That was it. Isaac must have submitted. Then again, there were also the strange concepts of near-extremist nobility and nonviolence that Ty had observed in his time away from his parents. Some people believed it was ignoble to hit someone, even if they hit you first, especially if you knew them.

"Ah," he said, nodding sagely. "'Nobles of bilge.'" To the nobles go the obligations. He shrugged, looking back ahead, totally unaware of his malapropism. To him, it was little better than "Victor is polio," but at least that one had a cooler meaning - to the victors go the spoils. Where did people come up with these phrases? "Didn't really want anything. You seem kinda bummed out, is all." Suddenly, something occurred to him. His conversation with Cassandra - what had she said? "Why they were there? Don't you ever wonder?"

"So, um..." He hesitated. This had to be important, somehow. For some reason, people occasionally fought for something other than dominance and play. Sometimes they fought over who was right, which made sense, in way... but not really. He and his sister had run into it a lot at school, and physical violence never seemed to change the words that had been spoken. His sister had disagreed with him on that point, mostly because she was usually the one arguing. "Why were you and Carlyle fighting?"

This was getting harder and harder for Ty. They weren't fighting... but Isaac still didn't hit back. He shook his head. Surely there was sense in this somewhere.

"Umm..." The Magus-General? "I don't really... think of him, much. He is a very just man, from what I hear. But if he really did let the angels in after they pulled something like that..." He trailed off, then shrugged. "I dunno. I don't have an eye for politics. I know he's awesome as a fighter." His eyes lit up as something clicked. "Did you get to see him?" he asked with an excited grin.