2020-06-28 - Wellness Check: Negative

It's not like people don't notice the sounds coming from 13 Elm Street. The breaking sounds, the crunch of drywall and cheap wood splintering. The sounds that Alexander makes. But it's not the sort of thing that most people on Elm have any desire to interrupt. As long as the crazy is breaking his shit, and not their shit, most of Elm is perfectly content to not get involved. Some just keep a wary eye out on the house in case its occupant decides to get all axe-murdery on anyone else.

And eventually the sounds stop. Is he dead in there? No, as it happens. Alexander is not dead. He's battered, bruised, and exhausted, sleeping in a heap on the floor, since he's tossed the mattress against the walls and punched at the carpet under the bed, like he might unearth a secret passage to wherever Isabella has been taken. But he doesn't and eventually, he sleeps. His animals hide, their distress radiating outward - even though none of Alexander's fury has been turned towards them, they don't understand, and they are afraid.

When you live at 5 Elm and your nearest neighbors are afraid of a possible domestic on this end of Elm it's not the cops that get called. Too many people have too many things the cops just need not know about. This isn't Bayside by a long shot. They will, on occasion, call Joey to make sure like no one's dead or chaos doesn't spill out into their yard.

He knocks and as they do, the lock falls away for him. It's not B&E if it's like a wellness check right? Eeeh maybe, but something about being zapped with lightening until his heart stops doesn't appeal to him when he's not really slept yet. He was trying, and now this shit. The truth is he may have told them work it out until they said it was from 15. There was staring at the ceiling and an utterance of "This is why I sleep at the gym." before getting up and hauling himself across the street and down two houses.

Now he's got a door he cracks and calls inside, "Clayton. Hey, bro, tell me you ain't wormfood." There's a pause and he asks, "Isabella? Someone home?"

The inside is a mess. It doesn't look like the place got professionally tossed - Joey has a lot of experience with what THAT looks like, but there could have been some sort of fight. Either way, the voice wakes Alexander up. He recognizes it. But it's the other name used that has him staggering out of the bedroom, looking like a battered but angry bull. His eyes are reddened from crying. He's got bruises on his body, his knuckles are split open, his clothing is torn. "What the fuck are you doing here, Kelly?" he growls, still half asleep. But something like hope flickers. "Have you seen Isabella?" His voice cracks on the question.

The situation doesn't really become someone usually so fastidious. He looked it up. It's a word that means anal retentive in their habits about being particular and there's 3 people and a crazy lady who might be part android who fit that bill. It means some shit is up in Alexander's house and it has him reaching for the pistol that is not tucked in the back of his belt in case. Dammit!

Seeing Alexander he takes a quick inventory. Knuckles split. Will need bandaging. Won't need stitches. Not torn but blunt. That wasn't a soft target or concrete or metal. Uh huh. Well not usually. Looking around and back to him not seeing the animals he makes a circle with his finger, shoulders dropping the tension. "Heard there was a hell of a thing going on." Maybe they broke up? He don't fucking know.

"I haven't." He does step in and point. "Kitchen." It's that tone he uses in the gym. This isn't boss voice, it's coach voice. Quietly there's no great way to ask but he's going to with the subtly of a hammer through a church window. "You two weren't arguing were you?" He doesn't look convinced, but it's something he's going to ask.

Alexander watches Joey, as wary as any animal himself. Hearing the voices not raised in shouts, there's a movement under the broken couch, and a fuzzy white head peeks out to look at Joey with wide blue eyes. It disappears again as Alexander moves. He sways like a drunkard, although it's more exhaustion than alcohol. He doesn't really protest the order or the pointed direction. He moves in that direction, stopping only when that final question is asked. "No." A pause. "I would never hurt Isabella, Kelly. I would never." The tone is dull. "They took her. They dragged her over to the other side, and I can't find her. I'm not strong enough to find her. August and Itzhak and I went over There, and I was going to make them tell me where she is, but they stopped me. They brought me back here. And I can't find her here. She's not here." He started slow, almost completely rational, but by the end, it's a throaty, rage-filled rant that makes the conure in his cage whistle in distress.

Joey listens as he makes his way first to the freezer and pulls out the ice tray. He looks under the since for a plastic shopping bag or- ooh, freezer bag. Fancy! In short order, having done this literally half in his sleep for himself he puts it in a bag and closes it. Turning to him he points to the kitchen chair.

Please...say no....don't make me knock you off this chair. Dammit I like you.

It's as hard to ask as be asked, and doesn't Joey know it. There's no surprise at the response, but the tension drops from his shoulders. Good. "Didn't think you would. Good to hear though." The news that they took her.- does not matter who THEY are. They anyone is too many 'they's'. There's a flicker in his eyes, however. Fury knows like for like. He, by contrast is very still hanging on every detail. Quietly and with a calm firmness really the dogs and his niece get from him, and Nicole, he tells him. Sit here. Don't... do anything. I'm going to be right back." He doesn't leave though so much as go into the bathroom and come back with an assortment of things to clean that injury with and a clean dishtowel from the linen closet.

He gets a glass of water, jaw tight enough to scare an alligator, and hands him a pill from his pocket and the water and a tylonel. "Take this shit. She's definitely not in the circle you've got yourself running around in. Take this. We're going to clean you up. You're going to tell me what you do know, and then we...are going... to brainstorm a plan. You're in no condition to hit shit now, but you can think."

Looking to his hand he sighs and murmurs, "They had me in a small ass room," which maybe Alexander oddly is acutely aware of how well Joey handles that more than most, "I was going to pop a Xanax and sleep it off but you need it more than I do and there's shit to be done." Both eyebrows go up and he asks, "Ya with me?"

There's generic plastic bags under the sink, along with cleaning supplies, and a couple of bottles of booze: one of tequila, one of scotch. The scotch looks like it's had a bit of use. Alexander watches Joey move around his sink with a blank expression and dark eyes. Something is wrong about the Kelly moving around in his house, something that Alexander would normally mistrust and question. But right now, he just watches.

And sits, when he's told to sit. Or, rather, since he has no kitchen table or chairs, he slumps against the kitchen counter. He doesn't say anything as Joey goes down the hall to the bathroom. The bathroom door and what looks like a trashed bedroom are both open. The bathroom hasn't been wrecked like the rest of the house, and under the sink is a truly well-appointed first aid kit, along with bandages, painkillers, and even what looks like a suture kit. Alexander gets injured a lot.

When he comes back, Alexander's eyes are a bit more focused. "There is no plan," he grates out. "The Shadows took Isabella. Maybe Javier, too. He's gone. We can't get to where they go, when they're Lost. We can't," he laughs like a sob, "we can't get there from here. Maybe I could have made one of those things over there tell me, but they stopped me. They wouldn't let me hurt them. Isabella is gone, and they wouldn't let me hurt those things until they gave her back." He clinches his hands into fists, not caring or even seeming to notice that bright red blood wells up in some of his wounds.

But he takes the pill. Drinks the water and the pill. His eyes narrow as something else penetrates his haze of fury and grief. "Who had you in a room?"

Joey pauses mid room and turns oddly having never dug through Alexander's house before, but finding the essentials he needs on the first try all the same. It's just intuition right? It's something the living have if you listen to the Exorcist or...whatever. Right. It's a long silence from the boxer and while his hands are strong and rough and designed to break without becoming broken they handle the injuries with a careful and deliberate nature. He does this a lot too.

"Well there ain't no plan because we haven't done that yet. You had a meltdown and I had an interrogation. Trust me, when you got the wrong guy you can ask questions til you are blue in the face friend. You won't get answers, just an enemy. We? " He gestures between them opening the tap. "We have enough of those. C'mon let's rinse this out."

Quietly he lets the water debride the the dust and whatnot from there. He's quiet for what might be a long time of him wanting to say something and finally mumbles, "I been you before, Clayton. Angry. Trapped. fuckin.... feeling... this. The person you care about totally out of your reach to help and all we can do is burn the world, cry, throw up, and pass out." Taking a deep breath he holds it. Letting it go slowly there's a flicker in his tone; regret. "I was locked up in Juvie when that asshole killed my ma. Even tried to figure out if it was my fault. Was so upset it felt my guts were on fire I threw up so bad... never hated myself so much in my life cause like... I shoulda been there. I shoulda done... something, ya know?"His brow furrows and his hand gestures vaguely to the back of the house a he looks to Alexander. "Trust me had I not has Jaime there I'd be really fucked up right now. But you... are not blessed with a twin bro whi is nicer and better looking than you, so you're stuck with those two assholes and me."

His throat and jaw tighten wrestling with the vague reminders of all that and genuinely feeling for the guy. Treating the hands goes on. There is the warning that this is really GOING to suck before treating it with ointment. There is a very noted, and very still pause when he notes Ruiz is also missing. Goddamit "He... was the one that brought me in for questioning. Went to go get me a donut and a soda. Didn't come back... I thought he was pissed for making him pay for the pizza I used my call on... well... fuck."

All things considered, there's not a lot of space in the house to hide anything. There's exactly one closed door in the house, although it does unusually have a key lock on the outside. But the office next to it is open, and clearly not where the supplies are kept, so Joey's ability to find things without rooting around too much is facilitated. And Alexander doesn't warn him not to touch anything. He just watches him move. When the water comes on, he just sticks his hands under it to let them wash clean. He's not stoic about it; he hisses and grimaces with pain. But he goes silent again when Joey starts talking. His head turns.

He doesn't try to rush to reassure Joey that it wasn't his fault. Alexander doesn't have that sort of social impulse. Instead, after a moment, he says, "It feels like we never manage to save the ones we love. No matter how strong we get, what we can do. It's never quite enough. When it counts." He looks down at his hands as they're treated. A growled curse at the touch of the ointment, although he doesn't jerk back. "I'm sorry. You're hurting." A longer pause, some core of that hungry curiosity demanding its way. His head comes up. "What were you--" a frown. "You didn't kill Thatchery. Neither did Monaghan. Neither of you are that fucking stupid. Javier knows that." It's not a compliment, or angry, just an observation of fact as Alexander sees it. A pause, and then he considers Joey again. "Are you okay? I know you're not...good with small rooms."

Joey focuses on the hand. it's easier. It's entirely easier than the truths they dont' talk about and personal failings. Still, he can't do much but agree. He's a lot of terrible things but a liar ain't it. "Nah. Never really does. Part of why I slept in the gym a lot to tell you the truth. We stop, we get slow... then more people get hurt and that can't happen."

Glancing up he grunts, "Is quieter." At the commiseration he garbles a mumble and sighs, "Eeeh I'm fine." At the what were you- there's a pause and he falls silent staring at Alexander. There is, perhaps in relief of role reversal confirmation on the conclusion. "Naw I didn't. Me, Felix, none of us had dick to do with that. No reason. Also, I learned early on, from him in fact: Never lay a hand on a cop no matter how pissed you are. All chances of anyone being impartial fall below zero at that point. Never worth it."

He makes neat work of the hand best as it is going to get and with a tiredness that settles heavy on him admits, "They need to show somehting to the paper so people sleep going oh hey the cops is doing something. De la Vega needs something to show so whoever is doing it don't think they're sitting ducks and... I get that but the next asshole they shoot will be him and... that better not be the case or this town is going to have very, very serious imbalance issues."

Jaw tightens and the tone turns quiet, "Nah I'm not okay. You're hurt and Isabella, Easton, and de la Vega are unaccounted for. But... eh I'll be alright." where the room is concerned. Squinting his eyes to Alexander he's still gauging him. Fury subsiding enough to have a conversation. Soon rational will get small footholds if all goes well. "Sounds like you and Itzhak are in the same shit right now. So now that your'e here let's think. What do you have? You can shuffle your feet on the carpet and fuck up the lights and the battery int eh remote, but you got people, you have an ability to locate... maybe we can poke holes init." Leaning on the counter he considers how much is in balance and unbalanced in his world right now and says, "We'll start thinking of shit and try to get a hold of Roen and Itzhak. They dick you around about going? We'll knock on the damn wall like we did at City Hall. You fight okay, but you think great. Let's start there."

Alexander watches Joey as he confirms what he suspected. A short, thoughtful nod. There's really nothing like a mystery and a crime to bring Alexander out of his darkest moments. "Copkillers often don't make it to trial," he agrees, solemnly. As much of a pestering asshole as Alexander can be to cops, he too knows better than to start any serious physical shit with them, when he's in his right mind.

"There are people in town. Out of towners, gang affiliated. Testing reaction times. Observing. Things like that." His eyes move away from the boxer, towards his living room wall. Which has a hole in it. He frowns at the hole. "How did that get there?" He looks down at his now cleaned and bandaged hand, and sighs. "Oh." A shake of his head. "Don't know exactly who they are, yet, or where they're based out of. But they're smart. I wouldn't be surprised if they were involved." The understatement of the year is tired.

The faintest hint of a smile at Joey's categorization of his abilities. "Isabella was taken. She's probably in a Dream." His body starts to tense again, the panic flickering at the edges of his eyes. "We don't know how to get into those unless we get taken by the Shadows. It's not--we can't--" His breath starts to whistle in his throat. He closes his eyes and grabs his hands, squeezing them tight, keeping them from reaching out for things to break. "I don't know how to find her, Joseph. Either of them. Any of them. They're gone."

Joey itches his forehead with the back of his wrist and sighs listening. "Yeaah. They stole my car to do the hit. At least de la Vega knows it wasn't me. With him missing I'm... kinda fucked right now." Both eyebrows go up slowly, too tired for a full Really? look. " Makes sense. They're smart. They're also fucking with the wrong city." Pondering that he considers something Alexander sat. his head picks up like a meercat, curious, thoughtful, eyes narrowing. Does he even know he does these things? IT's really really a question of suspense of disbelief to what someone can manage. Intuition, or in Joey's case just bending glimmer enough to allow some part of his sensory being touch something else that is elsewhere, or more frighteningly not.

There's a frown and a veiled distress of one flinty green eye as he confirms, "De la Vega's armed." Hell Joey and Tor might be the last persons that saw him for all he knows. "He ain't here, but he's armed so there's at least that. Isabella's smart. From experience as much as we want to do something going home is still the goal, man." Still doesn't mean she wasn't turned into a gelatinous mess or something.

Hand reaches out and stops a half inch from actually laying a hand on Alexander's shoulder in some stilling gesture. He reiterated, "No. You can't do shit. Not like this. Have you made a Missing Persons lost and found report yet?"

"Javier's always armed. And Isabella's smart, tough." Alexander agrees with these things. And it at least diverts him from working himself back up in a rage, but his expression still has a bleak edge. "But Easton was always armed. And he was smart, tough. He hasn't come back." He swallows.

It's the hand that brings him back, his eyes flicking to it. His body going tense in an instinctive wariness. He doesn't flinch away, just watches the hand until he's sure it's not going to come any close. Then he looks back to Joey's face. "You need to find your car. It might have forensic evidence that could be used to identify the murderers. Or track them. The police won't have any definitive evidence," there's a sudden, wintry sort of smile, "and I'm sure you have an unusually good criminal defense lawyer for a gym owner."

A shake of his head. "I haven't. I don't--" he takes a breath. "The police will tell her father if she's reported missing. He's lost his wife. His son. To this town. I don't...if there's any chance she can be found..." he trails off, his expression twisting with helplessness.

Joey tilts a look to Alexander, "Is he smart though? You are clearly not up on the extraordinary pile of dumb shit that kid gets himself in. As far as we can tell, and I talked to Byron, there's a possibility- a good one- that he went in looking for trouble." Easton... yeah that pains him a bit. He liked the guy well enough, but he, in Joey's eyes, did a lot of dumb shit. Funny tho, that. It's enough to make him break eye contact and pull himself back physically, and emotionally.

Glancing back at the lawyer comment both eyebrows arch with a sigh of agreement and a mumble, "I don't have a lot of friends, but I got a couple people that respect me, what can I say." That would be a solid yes you bet your ass I do. "I got a couple people looking for my car. It's... not all together and I don't know what that means. Vic's putting her detecting skills to work for me. Said she got something. Someone ran Cruz off the road in it too so he might be able to give us facial ID or somethin... I don't like it. Do not like our snowglobe gettin shook."

There's a pause and a flicker of a wry grin, amused. "The police here can't even stop themselves from being missing and just spent 24 hours shaking down a fall guy who didn't do it... all deference to de la Vega." Is there something Alexander's missing?? "I didn't say the Gray Harbor PD man. I meant find someone across from other City Hall. You're good with people. Put in a report with them. I mean they're closer. Pretty certain it's their district or whatever. She ain't in Gray Harbor so why we lookin here? "

Is Easton smart? Alexander thinks about it. "He's a good man," he says, at last. It's not an answer that denies anything that Joey has said, but there's a stubborn loyalty to it, nonetheless. Then his eyes narrowed. "'Vic'? That sounds like a nickname. I don't know any detective named Vic. Who is she?" He stares at Joey. "Cruz...the bouncer at the strip club. Run off the road?" His eyes flicker, and he looks to one side. "He gave me tamarind candy and called my mother a whore." A pause. "Is he all right?"

But the last remarks derail him at least for a moment from updating his mental library of Monaghan's associates. "I don't...know if it works like that, Kelly. It's not. I don't think things over there care if we go missing. And they're afraid of Them. I don't know if there are cops over there."

Joey doesn't even smile at Cruz' brash dealings with others. He murmurs, "Do not know. She's a retired detective. Not here. She's the shit bartender now working for Bennie. Tall. Blonde. Nice... biting commentary." He'll go for the things that stand out most and likely where Alexander is concerned.

With a sigh he cleans up his own hands washing then before wrapping Alexander's hand. There's one thing he's great with it's must mitts, faces, and ribs. Boxing hazards. "Cruz is also my door guy and they used my car to try to run em over. He'll live." He's efficient. he's not gentle about this shit but it'll be over soon. Functional is key here. Weirdly there's an optimistic pick up from him,"See that's a good thing. Things you don't know are things that are possibilities laying in wait man. The very least you know what you got for now. For later. Something about the enemy of my enemy is my friend." there's a pause and a faint smirk, "Kinda like us."

"Retired? Or kicked out?" Alexander asks, dryly, watching Joey with eyes that are, at least, a lot more sane than they were an hour ago. The news that this Vic person is bartending at Bennie's bar makes him frown, protective and worried. He grunts at the news about Cruz. He frowns down at the hands that are binding his, but doesn't pull away. Instead, he seems to see the wounds for the first time, and sighs. "Had an Incident," he mutters, under a breath. "Been a while. Sorry."

His eyes flick back up to Joey. "I suppose." He flexes his hand a bit after it's bandaged. "Thank you. For this. I owe you a favor."

Joey gives Alexander that look of he is neither a gossip column nor an HR department. "Dunno. Never actually asked her. You're the nosy guy. I'm the get shit done guy." If nothing else it'll give Alexander something to focus on. Joey seems to pick up on teh fact that Alexander's brain is a second stomach hungry for knowledge and when the acids of rage run high? Well it needs to be filled with other things so it doesn't attack itself. Brain ulcer sounds terrible.

"Fuck yeah you had an incident! Cruz is a walking incident. When he's not such a goddamn catastrophic emotional liability he's really damn good at what he does. Hell he kinda reminds me of me a bit; mean lil sunnovabitch." There's no malice there, hell he can't help sound he feels a bit bad for the guy but this is how shit is.

Cleaning up he boggles, "What for? It's... don't worry about it."

"Hmph. Nosy," Alexander says, with a sigh. "Guess I am. Certainly don't get much shit done," he admits, "so I can't be that guy." Another of those flickering smiles, brief but not without warmth. Then a rusty sort of laugh at Joey's talk of Cruz. "I have sympathy for goddamned catastrophic emotional liabilities," he says, in the ruins of his home. He stares at Joey, and adds, "That's three impressive words you've used correctly. You're reading the dictionary."

He pushes himself off the counter, and flaps a bandaged hand at Joey. "Here. You don't have to clean up, Kelly. You've done enough. I can--" he looks around at the wreckage, and sighs. "I'll fix all of this. You--are you okay? This situation. These people who killed Thatchery, stole your car." A pause. "I don't like gang wars. People die who don't need to. Who shouldn't. I don't like Monaghan, either. I'd get him put away for life if I could. But if I had to choose between him and an unknown quantity?" He shrugs. "Better the devil you know. Or so they say."

Joey takes the observation in stride murmuring, "Yeah yeah. Turns out it comes from the word 'catastrophe' which is neither punctuation nor having to do with cats." He does sound a little bothered that it does not. He does look around at the junk and shrugs.. "I don't." he agreed, "I'm here." ...so might as well.

The question though gets a full stop pause. Does he mention the kid? Nicole? his brother? The loss of the only really nice thing he owns being used to run down one of his own people? Being framed for felony murder of a cop? Not getting to take a nap with his dog and feeling like he's being targeted? How's one answer that? Finding a fixed point in the ruin on the room to consider the answer he finally assures Alexander, "It's pretty much how I'd expected it to be. Don't worry about it. But yeah, better the devil you know. It's exactly." There's a pause though and he asks, "De la Vega I get." He's really not happy about his best frenemy gone missing but that makes sense. "Why Isabella? You think it's connected or separate things? Also why can she not leave a damn note if she's gonna step out a minute. Do what I do with my Neice, put glitter on her and follow that. Shit gets all over everything. Very easy to track down."

Alexander grins. "It doesn't, no. It's a good word, though." His eyes are serious, though. Focused on Joey, now, waiting for the answer to his question. "If there's something I can do, Kelly. Let me know." It's flat, almost an order more than a request or an offer. Then he takes a breath, shakes his head. "I don't know. I thought it was the Asylum. Revenge from the Doctor, maybe. But no one else who went has disappeared. So, I don't know. People disappear in Gray Harbor. Statistically, there's a much smaller pool of those who stand out, and those who stand out are disproportionately targeted for retribution. It's not all that unlikely that two strong people would be affected at the same time."

He pauses, sighs. "It could just be coincidence. It does exist. And, Kelly, you can't just..." he sighs. "I'll try the glitter. If she comes back. I'll give it a try."

Joey levels a look to Alexander that seems to have faith in this glitter thing. "C'mon. You can start by getting your ass over here and getting the furniture put back. When she gets back she'll want to sit down again. Eventually." There's a pause and he adds in a murmur, "Also, I need from you is to stop kicking the shit out of my buddy. If you need to get over there I guess and need help lemme know just... for their sake remind yourself to have someone look after the critters so I don't have to break in here. Yes?"

"Your buddy? Which buddy?" Alexander looks honestly confused. He comes into the room and looks around. "I'll...clean up in a bit," he says, dully. Then his eyes rest on the cage when Joey mentions the critters, and he walks over to the cage where Luigi huddles in the bottle, and sighs. In a much more gentle voice, he says, "Oh, Luigi. I'm sorry." He reaches out and opens the cage, letting the bird climb up on his hand as he soothes it. It walks up his arm to his shoulder and starts kissing his cheek. Then bites it.

Alexander laughs, quietly. "Yeah. Okay. I deserved that. I'm sorry." Blue Bell sticks her head out from under the couch and moves to Joey's ankles, twining around them with a rusty miaow. "And yeah. I'll make sure they're okay."

Joey blinks absolutely baffled at Alexander. The stuff that goes over people's heads sometimes. "...You, dude." He watches the bird affectionately assail Alexander and then down to the cat. He's acquainted with them, but never really hisses at animals. What'd they do? Nada. His fingers reach down for the cat to inspect and then scritches her head cat permitting. "I know you're upset about Isabella, and you should be. Other things relying on you too." Thoughtfully he shrugs and watches the cat for now.

The graveled murmur follows, "The mad part of being in this situation is you have a choice. You can let yourself go nutso and get swallowed in your rage-" His hand comes up wide eyes, "I do get that, believe me, but if that's all you focus on? Well then they win by separating you from the things you love that still care about you too." He blinks like he's suddenly become ghetto Linus talking to a stressed out, bloodied Charlie Brown. "Don't need prison for that. You can build that up here." Finger taps his temple meaningfully. "Rage is fuel. Burn it to move forward, not spin your wheels. Doin that only hurts the things she cares about and that's no way to respect her, man. You got this. You can do it. You just ain't done yet."

Alexander stares. He just stares at Joey as Blue Bell sniffs the fingers offered and then tilts her head and pushes it against the fingers, with a low rumbling purr of relief. After a while, he says, "Oh." Then looks down at his feet, thinking it over. Thinking something over, at any rate. Then he nods. "Buddies. We can be buddies." A pause. "I would like that, I think. Even if it gets difficult."

He licks his lips. "I try. To stay in control. But sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't--" He reaches up and rubs at his face. "Never mind. I need to do better." He sways on his feet, and tickles his bird's feathers. "Thank you again, Kelly. I should...I should probably sleep. And then start cleaning up."

Joey nods only slightly. It will inevitably get difficult. Really that's a good sign for Alexander. Joey holds no illusions about being a good guy.; he's just mitigating damages. "Yeah, no problem. Just be careful." Glancing up he stays silent while Alexander fights for words of expression. "Yeah. Sometimes it doesn't." He agrees. Crisis averted and Alexander no longer as tore up from the floor up...or as much as the floor is he makes his heading back to the door to go hunt his own nap. "And next time just go down to the damn gym. I'll open it up for you. Hit that instead. Lordy." Hand taps the door frame twice and he heads out.