And here you are. 
You stood a good distance away from the collapsed creature after having closed the windows and blinds. You stood, staring with wide eyes, hand over mouth as you wondered if you really just brought this thing into your home. 
What was wrong with it? Was it dying? 
Great, that would be a whole other issue. How would you get it out of your apartment if it was dead? 
Your eyes glanced up and down scales on arms legs and head. The hard, cracked shell, the odd hands and feet. His snout was short, but a mask was on his face, and from the looks of it, handmade clothing and straps for weapons. 
Should probably take those. 
With a few light steps forward, you confiscated any sharp or otherwise dangerous tool you could find on his being, and carried it to another room. 
Bringing out a laptop with you, you began to do a few Google searches to get an idea on where to even start with this thing. 
How would you patch this up? How would you feed it? None of these turtles matched what this one looked like. So many questions racked your brain and not enough answers so you did what you could've thought Google provided you. 
A quick trip to CVS and the pet store later, you came back home and got to work.
You wrapped and bandaged what you could after cleaning it. Nothing too bad, just some cuts and a particular crack to the shell, which you covered with a Band-Aid. There was a slight cut on his snout, which you also repaired with a Band-Aid before you sat back and finally could relax in hopes that he would wake up. 
Breathing had almost return to normal though there were no signs that he would wake anytime soon, so you broke out the bag you got from the pet store.  
Digging out two dishes, you filled one with water and ice cubes, and the other with the best turtle pellets you could find on the shelf. Surely he would like these, right? You thought you did pretty well for someone who didn't know a thing about turtles. You placed some blankets on the floor around him and draped one over his shell even though it didn't cover very much, and looked up towards the ceiling fan above him. 
You wondered how in the world you were supposed to connect the heat lamp. 
-----
It was about five hours later when he began to stir, and you'd been so concentrated making yourself some dinner that the thump in the living room nearly made you jump out of your skin. 
Cautiously, you entered the livingroom, watching him attempt to stand on two feet. He was wobbly, and a strange noise left him. 
"Oh, it's okay little- big turtle-" You paused. Though you'd forced him to his feet to assist you helping him up the fire escape, he'd been hunched over the entire time. He was a lot bigger than you had let yourself believe. "Take it easy little guy." You approached, even when something had told you not to. 
The blue masked turtle finally stood, arms out to catch his balance, but as soon as his head lifted it hit the heat lamp you'd rigged together on the ceiling and he let out another distressed noise, hands now on his head. "Watch it, watch it." You warned, trying to ease him. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? I gotcha some water over here." 
You pointed at the steer bowl, crouching to splash a finger in it to catch his attention. Hey, it worked with dogs, why not a turtle?
"What the?" He turned to face you now, blue eyes watching you intensely. 
"Oh, you talk." You stood up straight and took a couple small steps backwards. You really hadn't expected him to talk. 
"What the-" he looked around again, taking the room in. You felt like maybe he was angry. 
"Sorry, sir," you tried this time, but when he looked at you with confusion, you felt your confidence in the whole situation start to fade. "Ma'am? Are you a girl?" 
"What? No." He shook his head as you took in a breath. 
"Here, have some pellets." 
He eyed the bowl you shoved into his face with a look of confusion, and then disregard. Gently, he pushed your hands away from his face. 
You watched his eyes look down at himself, hands patting his chest and sides. "Where is my armor?" 
"Uh, I took it off to make you more comfy." 
"And my swords?" 
"Uhm, away with the armor." 
"Who are you?" 
"I'm Y/n. Are you sure you don't want any pellets?" You held the bowl back up, and he gently pushed it away again. 
"No, why would I eat pellets?" 
"Oh..." your shoulders dropped. "...do you prefer lettuce?" 
"Lettuce?" 
"Well heck, what am I supposed the feed you? Pasta?" 
"Well I think that's better than pellets and lettuce, do I look like a rabbit?" 
"You're being awful picky to someone who saved you from potentially being sliced up and put into Petri dishes." You sassed, holding the bowl away from him. "You are a turtle, are you not?" 
"Well, yeah, obviously."  
"So you're going to tell me right to my face that Google lied to me about what you eat?" 
"Oh geez." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I don't have time for this." 
"You had plenty of time to nap on my floor for five hours, I think you've got time right now. Since my high quality turtle pellets aren't good enough for you, you're lucky I'm making myself pasta, and I'm really bad at measuring." 
The blue clad turtle simply watched you set the bowl onto the floor. "So do you have a name or do I just get to call you Turtle?"
"My name is Leonardo, but you can call me Leo." 
With a scoff, you disappeared into the kitchen. But you spoke again, and Leo could hear your voice echoing throughout the apartment. 
"Fancy name. No wonder you didn't want the pellets."