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As he worked with his fingers, the hacker repeated key information, almost as if emphasizing select words in a manner just barely meant to get under a certain man's skin. "...tracking anklet... ineffective..." It was probably all the more annoying coming from a man who had issues wiping the smile off his own face. 1337 definitely had theories on why the anklet had been ineffective, but those would remained as the notes he was typing up.

Idly, 1337 began to mention off hand "...I am sure any basic tech the group had was probably taken away or destroyed... probably destroyed... hmmm... this is going to be a fun puzzle to work on..."

It wasn't so much that he cared about the individuals involved. Heck, even with Hayes being amidst the group didn't seem to bother him. It was the challenge that got him excited, since as 1337 recalled, Team Galactic was a very tech savvy group. They'd probably be covering their tracks.

Like a Boss!

As the meeting had gone on, Alba had been laying on his back and facing the opposite wall. Spook had been exploring the room, but bounced back to settle down at Alba's side when Izaya had entered, putting herself between the stranger and her human. They were home again, so she wanted to be able to trust those who came to check on him. But between the compress on his left shoulder, and heavy bandages on the left leg (and who knows what cocktail of pain medications and antibiotics in his IV), Alba wasn't going to be easily defending himself any time soon.

"So..." he started some time after the meeting had come to a close. He blinked his eyes opened and turned his head back. He hadn't wanted to look at his visitor earlier, and now that he did, he noted that he didn't recognize the person. "The boss' brother... Never saw that one coming." He patted his right hand on Spook's head, earning and timid smile and small chime of a squeak. "Guess I should say thanks for putting that on speaker phone. I'm still trying to figure that feature out..." Arceus, he was tired.

A dark-haired Grunt had taken a seat at the back of the room, nearest to the elevators, a single crutch leaning against a second chair to her left. Her leg had been healing well enough since the last raid. She counted herself lucky that she'd returned with only the wound from a bullet tearing its way through her calf muscle. There had been so much worse.

She was healed for the most part now, on orders from the medical staff to continue her physical therapy until her strength returned. The crutch was more of a safety net now, though she did still have moments of weakness from that leg. All in time.

Sierra settled in for the announcement, no more expecting the message to follow than she had the surprise speaker. Seven Rockets...gone. Just gone. She felt a wave of familiar unease wash over her as the previous raid was mentioned, memories filtering through her mind like a backdrop. That had ended in the tragic loss of one Agent....but seven? If...if things went badly...this could end so much worse than before...

Even though she didn't really know any of the Rockets named very well, if at all, that didn't matter. They were teammates, and that was everything. She wanted to help, but what could she do? She had no connections to call on outside, and if she had, she wouldn't have dared use them. She wasn't about to start broadcasting her name in a desperate attempt at information regarding criminal organizations and their activities. That simply would not do.

Well, nothing like exercise to get the blood pumping and get the brain working. As soon as the Boss passed, heading for the elevators, and Sierra was sure to give him a respectful distance, she grabbed her crutch in one hand and carefully rose to her feet. As Rockets began milling about the room and muttered conversations rose on the air, Sierra looked about for any familiar faces. She also kept an ear open; perhaps someone around here had a good idea of where to start, something that she could help with, in any case.

While Izaya carried on, Alba watched with one questioning brow raised. For someone he had never met before, this kid sure liked to talk. Any curious amusement turned into a guarded half frown at the mention of asking questions and waiting for Alba to wake up next. "Um... okay... Look, uh, Nakura was it? A lot has happened. I can understand wanting to know more about it, but..." How could he put this politely? "It may be better if you come back some time later. Or tomorrow, perhaps."

Heck, not even Alba had a full grasp on what had happened. Was he even allowed to talk about it yet? He needed to get some things sorted before he talked to the first person to ask.

Alba blinked as the guy left. Did that kid honestly just try to guilt trip him? Hah! He gave a mental shrug. That guy--Nakura--had said he'd be back later. Alba decided he'd worry about it at that time, and settled down to resume resting.

As soon as Lucere had left, Inigo did too, although the concerned grunt headed straight for the infirmary as quickly as he could. He managed to arrive not long after Izaya's farewell to his roommate, and the grass-type lover squeezed past the skinny man with a mumbled "perdone" as he entered the room. Inigo moved to Alba's bed, quickly looking over his older friend for injuries. He didn't look too bad, really, so anything keeping him here must be something he couldn't see. Or maybe even something minor, hopefully.

Either way, he was just glad Alba was there, which was more than anyone could say for the majority of the unfortunate group. "How're you feeling?" He asked his roommate, feeling the anxiousness and worry slowly ebb away. It was one thing to hear he was alright, but it was another thing entirely to see it for himself.

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Claire pulled away from Lucas when the Boss departed, and she left without a word or even a glance to her partner or Isadora. She had to.. do something. Anything. Train, exercise, sw-- No, she should go see Alba. He was on the mission and he made it back safely at least, and he was a good friend, so the preoccupied agent made her way towards the infirmary. She passed Izaya near the door shortly after some brown-skinned teen she didn't know, who was already near Alba.

Inigo offered a smile and a pat to the familiar Chingling's head. "Bien. Muy bien," he sighed before pulling a chair close to the bed and flopping into it. "You had me worried," the grunt said with a small, relieved lop-sided grin. Arceus, was he glad his roommate returned in one piece. Actually, he was glad that his roommate had returned at all. "I can get you some coffee later, if they'll let you have anything to drink. Did they say how long you-- ah," someone else walked in. The grunt twisted in his seat to see who the girl was, but she was suddenly standing by the side of Alba's bed, so he scooted his chair a few inches to one side to make room for her. Wasn't this the one Alba had said brought him cookies..?

Claire hardly even spared a glance to the grunt that moved aside in his chair for her, instead halting by her friend's bed to lay a hand on his (uninjured) arm, a concerned expression on her pale face. "Is not. Are you okay, Alba?" It was hard to tell anyway, but it was even harder when her brain was still struggling to process what she'd just heard.