Pat finally woke up in the early afternoon. He had had some trouble getting to sleep in his new environment, it was the first time he had slept in anything other than his apartment or the hospital in probably a decade or two. Pat rubbed some of the sleep out of his eyes before sitting up and taking the time to do a bit of reflection on the previous days events. After a surprise newcomer, they had finally gotten into the vans and left that warzone. However when they got to the reformers "Headquarters" it looked like they had just entered another warzone. The place was rundown to say the least and lead Pat to question the quality of the equipment they had. The Doctor had a nice little speech when they arrived, saying it was wrong for them to be taken prisoner, but hadn't he just been taken prisoner by them? . Sure they were technically given the option to not go with them, but that other option was to stay in a forest with people shooting at them. Of course, staying with the Reformers was the best option currently available to Pat, but he definitely wouldn't be trusting them until they proved themselves. Doc had also reaffirmed that all of them had powers, and for most of them that statement seemed accurate, but then what was Pat's power? There was the possibility that it just hadn't manifested itself yet, but there was also the possibility the Reformers had screwed up and he had no power. Pat feared for what would happen to him in that case, the Reformers didn't look like the types to harbor a sick old man just out of the kindness of their hearts.

Pat snapped himself back to reality before getting out of bed. His room had quite a few similarities with the bedroom in his own apartment, being very simple in design. Although it was missing a few hundred pill bottles scattered about. Pat was sure those would come with time. Pat stopped at the door to note a weird ringing in his ears before leaving and heading towards the cafeteria. He had been told that they were allowed to get take out, but Pat lacked both a vehicle and the ability to drive, so the in house food would have to do. 

Pat didn't have too high of hopes for the sorry excuse for a meal he found on his plate. Still, food was food and living on his own for so long had taught him not to be picking. With his plate in his hands he scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit. He saw Stretch with a few others at a table, and seeing as he was the only one he really knew, decided that place was as good as any. On his way over to the table, the ringing in his ears began to intensify. Pat was almost at the table when the sensation of pressure building behind his eyes caused him to freeze. He had just enough time to utter his favorite curse before the all too familiar chain of events rapidly unfolded. 

First the ringing in his ears rapidly intensified, going from background noise to a foghorn blast in less than a second. At the same time the pressure eyes built up until it felt like his eyes were going to pop out. The plate of food fell out of his hand, he didn't hear it hit the ground. Time seemed to freeze for a second, giving Pat time to squeak out one last thought.

Day one of the migraine.
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Day one's always the worst.