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Zeke was the poor b*****d on duty when Otto warped in, so it was him that stepped forward as the bloody kid made an appearance. "s**t son." An appropriate response to the sheer amount of blood, if not the utterly bored tone it had been delivered in. This was really not Zeke's cup of tea, no matter how proficient. <******** ******** indeed," he countered, pulling on a pair of gloves before ushering the other man over to the gurney. He even provided assistance, if it was required. "Sit."

Something flickered across otherwise neutral features at the mention of horsemen, but Zeke didn't say anything for the moment.

Instead he grabbed a rolling cart and pulled it closer so he could dig out a handful of gauze. "I'm going to have to get that shirt off you. It's already ruined, so please don't b***h about it being cut off." Tone suggested he'd had arguments over just such an issue in the past, and was in no mood to deal with one now.

"Just sit there and try not to bleed." Scissors in hand, he began cutting up the back of Otto's shirt, carefully holding the material away from his body.

"Do you have a name?"

Ruined cotton was peeled away from Otto as snark was given, and Zeke gave a grunt in response, laying the shirt aside and grabbing gauze as he moved around towards Otto's back so he could inspect the wounds there, though he did pause for just a moment to jot the name down at the top of a form fasted to a clip board on the little wheely table Zeke was carting along with him.

"Alright then Mr. Graves," and perhaps there was a little snark here, too. "Preliminary assessment includes a plethora of superficial to non-worrying wounds. A few stitches here and there, maybe." Depending on strength of bond. The stronger the connection, the more impressive the healing ability.

He prodded at a wound, wiping it was clean gauze to get a better look at how deep it was. "Any head trauma I should know about it? Other aches or pains? Anything not abundantly obvious?" Sarcasm lent otherwise neutral words a hint of an edge. Zeke was not the most sympathetic soul.

There was more prodding to come as Ezekiel worked over all visible wounds on the Sun's back so he could gauge how deep they were, if they need stitches, or if he could just slap a little antiseptic on them and call them good. Most were superficial, small things that would heal up in a few days. They bled a lot, but weren't anything terribly concerning. There were, however a couple of deeper gashes that were going to need a little help.

Tape and gauze were applied liberally, more secure, long lasting dressings for things that were fine on their own, and tape on an angle for those few that would need a stitch or two. Then he was moving around to face Otto, more or less, pushing himself along on a little wheely stool. He started on the left arm, poking, prodding, and cleaning here too. Applying bandages in the same easily discernible manner.

"Lucky you then." His concentration was very obviously on Otto's wounds, but as they were nothing terribly serious, it meant there was room for small talk. Oh goodie. "The last horseman injury I saw, the b***h had buried her sword in one end and out the other. So this is pretty mild, comparatively." Said victim was still healing.

"Oh, I dunno," Zeke commented mildly, taping a bit of gauze over a shallower wound on Otto's chest. "The guy almost died, since the horsemen more or less disemboweled him. I would wager that was plenty scary." As casual as his tone was, this was a topic Zeke cared an awful lot about, because the hunter in question was someone he cared about, and he knew for a fact the whole ordeal had ******** him up.

He leaned back, gaze flicking the Sun's chest, arms, and adding the number of differently taped gauze squares to the ones he knew to be on the back. "Not to belittle your point at all, they seem a fairly twisted bunch. Sadistic as ********." This coming from Ezekiel. "Can't say I would ever want to find myself at their tender mercy." As mild as his tone might have been, the Mist was serious. He just wasn't all that emotive.

To that, at least, Ezekiel could agree. He'd only faced down one creature from Halloween, but she'd been nothing compared to the awful things he'd seen and heard about the horsemen.

When he had his count he was lifting to his feet and heading for a cabinet on the wall. A syringe was claimed from within, as well as a small bottle of clear liquid. As he walked back towards Otto he was pulling the cap of the needle off with his teeth so he could poke it through the bottle top, filling it. This was set down as he grabbed a little sealed packet and tore it open, getting the suture thread and needle ready.

"Alright, let's get this over with." He might have been smiling as he reclaimed his stool and wheeled his way back around behind the Sun.

"It's getting done, regardless." He could have left it at that, been cruel. He very nearly did, in fact, though after a nearly a minute he gave a cold little chuckle as reached up and peeled one of the makeshift bandages off Otto's back. "Yes, I've don't this before."

Reassurances probably should have come at this point, but Zeke was seldom empathetic enough to realize when he should bother, and didn't quite care enough, even when he did realize. So instead, Otto would feel a hand on his back, the soft p***k of the needle for the initial jab, and very little after that as he numbed the area completely.