Max is at his side as dutifully as ever as he wraps his usual morse code into the metal with his knuckles. S-A-F-E even though Alex already knows it's them by the thud of his magboots and the sharp takka takka of dog claws on the grating. They step inside the automatic doors, expecting Alex to be there to greet them, but when he's nod Frank proceeds more cautiously inside, one arm outstretched in case he has to reach for the knife on his ankle. His eyes make a sweeping pass from one corner of the room to the other, and nothing immediately seems amiss, except of course for the way Alex is hunched over his chest of drawers. Even from his vantage point, the man seems pained to Frank.

"Alex?" he calls brightly, hoping to dislodge him from whatever it is he's seeing but he also approaches slowly so as not to startle him. His hood is drawn up over ever-present bruises and Max tips his head curiously from his place beside Frank, the glint of the nameplate on his collar catching artificial light and throwing it back Alex's way. More seriously, he asks, "What happened?"