He's only too relieved to elaborate; it keeps him from being too inward. He follows alongside the panel, arms outstretched like guardrails, hands moving to hastily adjust elbows and knees of the unconscious that look like they might bump into the door sill.

"Yes, I'm the Paladin of the--"

He doesn't get any farther than that before the questions come at rat-a-tat rate. It wrings a helpless smile from him, recalling friendly faces, and he nods quickly.

"Yeah! Pidge is..." How much does this kid know? "Pidge is part of the team." There's something in the way he says the words, some trick of tone. He says 'the team', but he means 'my team'. A sense of possession and closeness like one claiming family. "How did you two meet?"