Isaiah at first really didn't know what to do. He had no medical training, and taking care of a mostly naked an bloody man was not something he'd been expecting this night. Not dogs.. The man had been robbed, and stabbed. Isaiah wondered by who. He probably knew the person who did it. Isaiah knew everyone. This one though, he was not familiar to him at all. He didn't seem that concerned with the streets being unsafe. “To strangers, yeah,” Isaiah said, but he rushed off to get his vehicle. It was a piece of shit white honda that squealed when pressed to a stop. He knew better than to try and drag the man. No doubt he probably thought he'd been left, but Isaiah returned. He threw the passenger door open and climbed out.<br/><br/>“I'm sorry man. Moving you is going to hurt like hell,” Isaiah told him, getting his arms around the man's back and beneath his armpits. He pulled him to his feet, and he tried to do it a quick and painless as possible. He awkwardly managed to get the man into his passenger seat, with help from him, and then set his legs the rest of the way into the car before shutting the door. He knew the stranger was bleeding all over his front seat, but that was hardly what he was concerned with. Afterwords no doubt it would probably look like a crime scene, he just hoped it didn't turn into one.<br/><br/>“Seriously, don't you dare fucking die in my car,” Isaiah told him as that realization hit. His grey t-shirt was covered in blood, as well as his arms. It didn't freak him out as much as it would have some, but he did not want to deal with explaining a dead body and why he hadn't called an ambulance. It was mostly because even people who worked for hospitals had a sense of preservation. They did not care to come to this part of town in the dead of night, to pick up someone who'd been stabbed. It usually took them a while, and sometimes they didn't show up at all. Isaiah also didn't want to deal with them. He didn't like hospitals, and he sure as shit didn't want to talk to the police. They'd probably charge him with something considering he was always difficult and reluctant to speak with them.<br/><br/>“I don't know what to do with you,” Isaiah told him. He was giving some thought to pulling up the the hospital. Opening the door and kicking the stranger out, for them to deal with. Someone would probably get his plate, and then he'd really look guilty. “You probably don't want to hear this, but I don't do hospitals.” The man wouldn't make it if he dropped him off down the street, and even then, going into the nicer part of town he still would have to deal with someone probably seeing him dumping a half dead body out of his car.<br/><br/>“<i>Fuuuck,</i>” Isaiah spoke as he realized the mess he had gotten himself into. One he wasn't sure he knew how to get himself out of. Maybe he could just take the guy to his place? The only issue would be if the man died in his apartment. He took a sharp left, deciding that he'd at least take him there and get a look at his wounds. If he looked really bad, he'd call an ambulance to come get him, hopefully well before the man died. He drove fast, a bit reckless, and a bit distracted, apologizing when he knew he was jostling the wounded stranger. He pulled into a handicapped parking spot right in the front, and ran over to help the stranger out. Getting him through the glass doors, and into the elevator was an interesting affair. He was thankful no one was up at this time of night, or those who were happened to be too drugged out care. The building was a shit hole, with stained walls and cracked tile flooring.<br/><br/>“You've got to help me a bit,” he told the guy. He wasn't weak by any means, but he'd exhausted himself by the time they got to his floor. He leaned the man against the wall when he fiddled with his key, bracing him with his own body. He kicked the door open, and got him to the couch, falling over him as he laid him down.<br/><br/>“Fuck, I'm sorry,” he told him, trying to situation him comfortably now, and going towards the door to shut, and lock it. “Who was it that got you? What did he look like?” Isaiah questioned, and then gathered towels and a bucket of warm water. He wiped at the man's chest, trying to get a better look at the wounds. “Dammit, I don't know what to do for you. Tell me what to do.” He was getting a bit more desperate and worried upon inspecting him closer. Getting him in the light now, he could see how that he was young, and rather attractive. Why would someone do this, and what the hell was<i>this</i>guy doing out there?