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He was achy and sore but Tortuga knew that his injuries were the least out of all the fighters that had shown up that night. He had seen others bleed, bones were broken, and more than one person passed out or were damn near it. Granted it was more the negaverse then order who received the more painful of the injuries but still, he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping comfortably for the next few days. But it was the knight next to him that was more worrying. Out of everyone this knight probably had it worse. The page didn’t know what had happened to him prior to tonight, or even what had happened prior to the redhead showing up at the fight, but whatever it was… it wasn’t good. Add the fact that he quite literally had his soul ripped from his chest. Yeah, hands down Scholomance had it worse so the EMT kept his mouth shut, even if he wanted to drag the purple knight to the ER and tie him to a bed so he would stay there for at least a week. But it wasn’t his choice. Even as a civilian he can’t force help on anyone who says they don't want it, granted they have to sign a waver to prevent any legality crap. So all he could do was follow the knight and keep an eye on him.

When the other knight dropped his powered persona in a alcove all Tortuga did was raise a brow at the getup before following in his footsteps. Unlike the younger man, Pat was in much more mundane outfit. Worn blue jeans and faded tshirt paired with a simple jacket and battered sneakers. He didn’t like to stand out, his appearance did that normally. Something about a tall a** man with red hair and purple eyes drew looks, he didn’t need his clothes to make it any worse. The only time he ever really felt comfortable in the spotlight was when he was cosplaying. But he wasn’t himself at that point, he was who ever he was dressed as… be it a samurai, a superhero, a jedi, or even a girl when he lost a bet with his cousin. He could hide behind the clothes, behind the persona of the character. He couldn’t hide behind anything when he was just himself so it was safer not to stand out, at least trying not to stand out.

The tall redhead followed his fellow knight in the condo building, his head never sitting still as he took in everything around him. Curiosity running rampant even as the knight unlocked his door and spoke for the first time since they had escorted the others to the hospital. “Thats got to make your renter’s insurance suck.” It was the first thing that popped into his mind, a half smile on his face as he introduced himself. “Pat. Patrick O’Ryan of Station 10. ‘Mister EMT’ works if you would rather. It's better then some of the names I’ve heard over the years.” He joked, trying to make things a bit lighter. A bit more casual and less like they almost died that night.

“Madonna and Cher doesn’t need one so why do you?” Pat gestured to the interior of the condo and focused on the reason he stuck with the knight all the way here. “Let's take a seat shall we? Mostly I just want to see if anything hurts anywhere, if there are any residual issues, and if there is anything I can help with. I still think a night or two at the hospital would be a good idea but I know they won't admit you with ‘my soul was ripped from my chest and shoved down some hot chick’s boobs’ as an excuse for using up resources that are desperately needed in this city.”

Pat rented but he could understand where Isaiah was coming from. The one time he totaled his car getting a red cent from the insurance company was like pulling teeth. By the end of the whole incident Pat was ready to just throw his hands up and let the ******** bloodsuckers keep their money but he needed the cash to afford a new truck. He could only imagine what the other knight had to go through for a entire condo. It had to have been a nightmare, a complete and total nightmare. “True enough,” he commented absently as he gently took the guy’s pulse via his wrist, his own gaze trained on his watch. “They might be stage names but still doesn’t mean you need to be known with a last name. Besides, its better then being called Fruitloops,” the redhead muttered. He still hadn’t fully shaken that nickname, mostly but not fully. That's what happens when your magical weapon keeps playing peek-a-boo when others aren't around and you think your coworkers are ******** with you.

“Pulse is… not great but honestly I don’t think anyone’s would be right now if they were in your shoes. Not bad though all things considered. Does anything hurt, again, considering everything that just happened?” Pat sat back on his heels, he had knelt by the knight’s side to take his pulse, and gave the other a visual once over. Without any of his gear, and short of stripping the younger man, the redhead couldn’t see anything physically wrong. Not from this night at least. He briefly wondered about the arm and hand but it wasn’t any of his business so he kept his mouth shut. “A beer would be good if you have it. If you are going to take any painkillers though I would suggest you stay away from any alcohol. Meds and liquor don't really mix.” Pat smiled and shrugged, “personally I make my own coffee. Strong enough to strip paint and black. Store made is too sweet for me,” and its expensive as hell he mentally added.

He would have added more, maybe actually taking Isaiah up on his offer for some brandy since his own wounds were starting to bug him. The claw marks from the nega lady hurt like hell and that blow from the scuffle with the other nega wasn’t any better. The knight seemed to freak out for a moment at the boob comment. It startled the redhead, had him over balance and land on his butt. Wincing he absently pressed his hand to his side, feeling the hasty bandages he had applied earlier. “Cinnabar?” It was a quiet question, his brain reminding him about the fight, about the comments someone tossed at the woman who gave him the claw marks that nearly spanned his entire chest. “Her name was Cinnabar? The red dragon lady?” He seemed to pale a bit at his own memories; those eyes that promised his death, the burn of the claws ripping into his flesh, his own stupidity in drawing his attention.

Absently Pat swallowed, shaking his head he wrenched his thoughts back to Isaiah’s questions, “No. Not her. She… I think she got knocked out or something. No, it was a knight. The lady you were laying on. Poofy hair, white dress, one hell of a staff. Her. She pulled it right from the boob clef once they scared off the general.” He wasn’t entirely sure if he had ever seen her before, ever got her name. He just knew she was a knight. A Knight, like he was a Page. Their power so far apart it was kind of funny.

“Yeah. At least it was a change from Lucky Charms and it could have been worse. They could have gone with Cheerios or Raisin Bran but when you start swearing that there is something there that no one else sees they go for the ‘fruity’ type cereals and Fruit Loops was the house favorite. Got to admit, the station was pretty well stocked with breakfast cereals for a while.” That died out real fast when Pat was cooking because all the guys who teased him by giving him cereal got said food to eat they learned pretty fast. One could eat cold mush for so many days in a row before the cravings for red meat kicked in. Besides, Pat stopped mentioning the disappearing whistle so they found something else to joke about. It still took a hell of a lot longer before the knight found out that he wasn’t going crazy, just being haunted by a magical metal whistle.

Pat winced at the scrape Isaiah showed him. “Road rash sucks but a pretty simple fix, we can atleast get it cleaned up so it will heal fine. If you have the materials we can get you patched up in no time, if not I should have enough in my bag to rig a perfectly fine fix.” His backpack was now sans duct tape and ace bandages but it still had more than enough simple first aid gear to bandage any cuts or scrapes the other knight had. “You have more s**t to deal with, I can at least make sure you don't get an infection. Not much else I can do,” He shrugged and stood, gratefully taking the Ale the other guy offered. “It will do, just want to take the edge off and sorry. Its habit. Something I picked up for work.” Isaiah apparently knew the dangers of mixing quite well but Pat found out that sometimes people needed to be reminded, at least when he was doing some on site patching like he had been doing lately. A person was smart…. People not so much. People in pain? Even less so. “I wish my counter did that,” he held up his open beer for explanation before taking a swallow.

“Yeah I can imagine her being one of the deadlier negavers. She didn’t take getting hit with a roll of duct tape very well.” He made a face and took another swig. She had damn near killed him, or Pat figured that's what she was about to do, when these tentacles ended up dragging her off of him. Sometimes life is so much stranger than fiction. “As for the upgrades, I’ve only got the ones you gave out. I think you passed out your upgrade and the one before it but honestly it's all a moot point since I haven’t had the chance to get the ring yet.” He hadn’t visited his homeworld, he didn’t really want to. He was afraid too, not that he would admit it to anyone… ever. “So a database would have to,” He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Could I do a database of anything? Like not just crazy bitches?” If he could, if he could actually create a digital database of all the places he had stashed the little med packs. “Could others see and edit it too?” He still wouldn’t go hunting for his ring just for that reason, but he could always ask his cousin to do it for him. Going to another planet… no thanks. Last few times wasn’t exactly his choice, at least not consciously.

“Got a bit of lap service too if I’m not mistaken.” He took another long swig of the Ale, nearly finishing it. Hvergelmir, hum? Why do a lot of our names sound like someone chewed a bunch stones then tried speaking, he silently mused even as he added out loud, “from what I remember, and honestly it's a bit disjointed, that lady was pretty bad a**. She doesn’t seem like someone I would want to get on the bad side of.”

“Because it was the first thing I grabbed from my bag.” Pat shrugged and finished off his drink. “She had this poor girl pinned to the ground and I just reacted. Didn’t think it would do anything more then distract the crazy b***h. Turns out I should have tried to use the tape to restrain her since the girl she was about to gut went all ghosty and Cinnabar decided to take her anger out on me. Luckily my a** was saved by some hentai like tentacles that yanked her and somewhere else.” He really didn’t care where by that point. But boy had that been interesting thinking back on it, not that he had much time when it happened to actually digest the fact that someone out there in the night could make a lot of otaku happy if they chose too. “It was so insane though I’m not even sure if what happened actually happened.” With a light shake of his head Pat put his empty bottle down and almost instantly wishing for more, maybe something stronger. It had been his first real melee style fighting, at least to this extent, and dear lord was it insane and confusing. He wasn’t some green horn on his first exertion as a knight but that many people, that many signatures, power levels, skills… It was almost as insane fighting a critter made of bone. That thing still gave him nightmares sometimes, now the dragon lady would likely be added to it along with tentacles. Pat was really glad he didn’t have to see a shrink as part of his job because there was no way he would get cleared if he had to share about the things that kept him up at night. His hand went to his own bandaged wounds absently, would showing them the scars prove I’m not nuts?

The redhead winced as his claw marks sent a flash of pain into his side. It was going to take a while to heal and would be a pain in the a** to explain at work. Mentally sighing Pat focused on the tidbit of information Isaiah was passing on. “Wasn’t really thinking of making that kind of list, although might be something to think about. I was thinking of a list for the med packs I’ve been stashing in the city. It’s not a lot but it's all I can really do right now.” He shrugged and tapped the counter. “Not much else I’m good at. Its why I’ve taken to carrying around a bag of medical supplies… and why I had duct tape to chuck at Cinnabars head.” And now he would have to get a new roll to replace that one he threw, totally worth it.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt.” Once again, all the redhead could do was shrug. He wasn’t sure about it but it didn’t seem like the other guy really minded the idea of meeting back up with Hvergelmir. Then again Pat wasn’t the best at reading others, so who knew.

Pat’s brow rose in surprise as Isaiah casually stated that he was the one to make that girl and almost before he was able to process the sheer possibilities of the knight’s magic Isaiah jumped the topic back to Pat and how he looked like s**t, a pretty apt description if Pat said so himself. However he wasn’t one to really speak up when it came to his own pain so he just shrugged. Yeah, tomorrow… or later today really… was going to suck a** between the claw marks and the bruised stomach from the nega punches would make work suck big time but it wasn’t like he could call out sick, not for something like this. “I’ll survive. Nothing a hot shower wouldn’t help.” He eyed Isaiah as he got to his feet with a groan and couldn’t help but add, “A hot shower probably would help you too. Hell, it's nights like this that I wished my place had one of those jacuzzi tubs.” Renting though kind of shot any hope of him installing one, even if he had the money to do so. Ah well.

“I’ll give it a try but honestly it's a stupid little whistle. Its high pitched and annoying as hell but I’ll give it a shot.” Again Pat shrugged and gave a little chuckle. “Still has to be better than a roll of duct tape.” He followed the other knight towards the door and politely turned down the offer, “Thanks man but I’m good. Got to get home or my neighbor might think I’m stepping out on my girlfriend. I love her as a grandma but boy, there is no need for a neighborhood watch with her around.” Pat really didn’t mind his nosy neighbor and her poker buddies, she really was like a grandma to him and most in his building but it did mean that his knightly activities were a bit harder to do. It took a lot of fudging the truth whenever he got the ever worrying ‘saw you come in late last night’ comment. Before he left though he fished a scrap piece of paper from his bag and scribbled his number on the back of it. “Here is my number, give me a call if you need it.”