A second Saint Patrick. Will tried not to let his mind dwell on the idea overmuch. He knew intellectually that immortals existed in many iterations – because immortals were at their core stories, and stories took on new forms with different tellers. Clio had even said she'd corresponded with a few of her other selves. But even that was a far cry from meeting one of 'em in the flesh. And if he focussed on the fact that another Saint Patrick was about to walk through that door, he might be drawn to contemplate the idea of other Will Stutelys, and that was not a concept he could handle.
It helped a little that, true to Clio's description, the man who arrived with Patrick was chalk to his cheese, calm and clean-shaven where Patrick was animated and scruffy. It made it easier to think of them as two completely separate people.
Patrick evidently shared no such discomfort at the thought of other selves, since he seemed to know Padraig well enough to rib him mercilessly. Between Patrick's cackling and Padraig's long-suffering looks, the pair reminded him strangely of brothers. He supposed they were, after a fashion.
Will met Clio's eyes with a grin, before stepping forward to give Patrick a friendly clap on the shoulder and shake Padraig's hand. "Good to meet you, mate. Appreciate you coming all this way."