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Alba gave a grim smile. "A couple aspirin and a steak on the eye, I'll be right as rain," he jokingly answered. He was quiet for a few seconds, letting her check him over, while he just sat there feeling like a tired, limp puddle, how ever the heck that worked. "Recent promotion. Seems my designation for a while was, 'that guy who does the cleaning.' Guess I'm just awesome like that, huh?" He grinned at his own humor.

Claire's diagnosis was pretty much spot on. There was some swelling where he'd been hit in the jaw at the start, his wrist was sore and probably sprained, and his torso, as well as his back, just flat out hurt. There probably was more damage than could be seen there, but for now he could only try to take his mind off it, and focus on the areas that didn't ache as much.

Next to him, there was a quiet, "Ching?" Alba looked down at Spook, who was standing right next to his hip. She stared up at him with big, tearful eyes. The grunt pet her on top of the head again, and the large bell visibly cheered up some at the gesture. Thank goodness she was at least okay.

"No steaks for eyes? What is this, modern day or something? Suppose you have a point, though. And Spook may try to take my hand off to get it." Alba made the mistake of starting to chuckle again, but instantly stopped with another grimace. He really needed to stop doing that. "Too bad they don't give out a golden toilet award here. I practically own those janitor closets, at this point."

He turned serious and diverted his eyes when Claire asked about him being a cop. "It's not something someone wants to particularly advertise when in the middle of a major crime organization. Former Officer Taylor Ross, of the Saffron City Police Department, at your service. Emphasis on 'Former.' I'm not exactly welcomed there, these days." Alba turned back to make eye contact, and suddenly gripped her arm. It was a firm hold, but light enough that he wouldn't hurt her. That was the last thing he ever wanted. But he needed her to understand. Needed someone to believe him, "I'm not a spy, Claire. Please..."

Alba nodded, relieved. He could have almost cried at it all. Almost. "Alba Taylor Ross, yeah. So it's Alba. T. Ross. My parents thought they were being creative." Letting go of her arm, he sniffed and rubbed at his face with both hands. The upper half of his face was temporarily hidden from view when his palms stopped on his forehead. It wouldn't do anyone any good if he started to panic now.

"It's in my file. I didn't see any point in trying to hide it when I signed on, considering all the news coverage when I was fired. It was years ago, but... even going by my first name now, or just growing out my hair, it wouldn't have taken long for them to start asking questions." He dropped his hands, leaned back completely against the lockers, and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "Thanks," he said, looking back at Claire, and finally smiling a little again. "Thank you." He didn't ask Claire what her secrets were. He wasn't going to pry if she didn't want to talk, but he still appreciated everything she had said.

Arceus, he was feeling old again... And... well... in pain. That probably didn't help matters.

He looked at her, and this time, he tried to really look. Those weren't simply random disguise suggestions, were they? "We all have our demons eventually, I suppose," he quietly responded, then gave a breathy chuckle as well when she stood. "True. True. I'd kind of like to have use of two eyes at one time again soon."

Trying not to make too many faces, he accepted her help. Between that and a hand against the lockers (Spook tried to "help" as well, but Alba had to wave her off when tugging on the back of his collar caused him to make even more exaggerated faces), he finally managed to get to his feet and stop for breath. "Please tell me... the infirmary... isn't twenty miles away."

"Sounds like a plan. I think I can manage walking to that point, at least." Between Claire's offered help, and his using the lockers for support, Alba managed to climb back to his feet. Thank the gods for the lingering adrenaline. By the time they would arrive at the infirmary, he would be leaning a little more heavily against the agent, but he did indeed manage to grit his teeth and stay walking until then.

As they left, Spook bounced down to the floor to retrieve a pair of glasses. Her human's vision would be blurry without them, and so she carefully folded them as she had seen done every night. With that accomplished, she took the air again, and floated faithfully after the humans.