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"Do be quiet Izaya," Frost replied blandly, "the way in which I react is none of your business. In any case, Xander, seen as you ask it of me: 'I am unharmed'... Mostly." His roommate would have his head if he claimed to be totally alright and then turned up with a pale face and even superficial injuries. "Very minor cut on my arm, just clipped by a bullet, and painful ribs from running like heck and climbing over an Arcanine," he clarified in dispassionate tones, perhaps even more dispassionate than they might had been had Izaya not been present; he simply couldn't allow his control to slip one iota with that man around.

"From this, Xander," Frost went on, "you can deduce that I did not get out before the police arrived, and that I did get caught up in some fighting. Grunts Claire, Izaya, and myself formed a small rear guard. Claire got away clean but Izaya is bleeding all over my car, it might be a good idea to have medical personnel ready to receive him..." Wait, had there been something different about Xander's voice? He wasn't sure, and he didn't dare ask with Izaya here. "How are things at base?" That was a fairly safe question to ask, he felt, and might elicit an explanation for the young man's odd tones... if indeed they had been odd and he wasn't just imagining things.

Orihara laughed quietly in the backseat, amused at Xander's obvious concern for his roommate. It was even more interesting to note that Frost didn't seemed to mind being scolded like a naughty child - even when the scolder sounded even younger than Izaya.

"See? I'm not the only one who thinks you're underestimating your injuries," the crimson-eyed man mused, whispering in Frost's ear behind the head of the seat. "But I wouldn't be half as devastated as he would, sounds like, if you were to pay for that underestimation."

Xander wasn't willing to have a fight with Frost about how much time he was going to be having off right now and made a note to drug the man later before talking to the doctors. He had moved over to a nearby console and sent to the medical wing the ETA of the vehicle so they knew how much time they had to gather any necessary equipment. He looked back at his 'Dex when he heard Frost telling this Izaya Orihara to back away. He let a frown cross his face and then scowled. "Something the matter Frost?" he asked, voice tone starting both in warning (towards Izaya) and concern (towards Frost).

Flying was so much faster than driving. Again, she couldn't help but be glad to not fall victim to traffic or the lights or pedestrians, and so unsurprisingly she arrived back at the base before Frost and Izaya. She landed just outside and recalled Odette, clipping the ball back to her waist as she trudged into the garage with a sigh. She was all set to ignore the young man already in there, pacing - until she caught the tail end of a snarky comment made by that incorrigible idiot.

Swiftly changing her direction, she walked over to Xander before loosely holding her arms in front of her midsection. "Are you waiting for Frost?" And Izaya, but she didn't give a crap about him. She cared about the blond man's well-being and how he was holding up - he hadn't looked good while en route to the car, after all - but not the moron.

((Edited just slightly as i remembered he should know Claire XD))

Xander vaguely thought that this Orihara sounded familiar but he pushed it away to think on later. When he heard the foot steps nearby he looked up and say the female Agent walking towards him. He nodded before turning his eyes back onto his 'Dex. "Yes I am, Ma'am. The medic's will most likely want to check you over as well, Ms. Claire." he said to her, recognizing her from his very first mission. By his estimation the medic's would be down in a few minutes, just before Frost would pull in.

At Frost's complaint about the other man, Xander's lips twitched upwards as he fought to hold in his laughter. Was that a hint of whine to his roommates voice? Either way he made sure the older man didn't hear any chuckles that might have escaped. "Well at least he wasn't getting blood on you?" he offered after making sure his voice wouldn't tell of any amusement. Said amusement went back to worry very quickly and his worried his bottom lip. "You said your ribs hurt? Are you having any breathing trouble? How bad is the pain over all on a one to ten scale?" he couldn't help but ask the questions, even though both Claire and Orihar could hear him.

One violet eye twitched at hearing that obnoxious voice, and she couldn't help but feel bad for Frost having to be stuck with such an irritating moron. "Wow," she said in a flat tone as she leaned towards Xander's Rocket 'dex so that both Frost and Izaya would hear her, "you're more of an immature idiot than I thought." If she could reach through the 'dex and strangle him, she would. Ugh, she still couldn't believe he'd gotten himself stuck under an Arcanine, almost on purpose.

That done, she directed her attention to Xander himself, instead of his 'dex. "That's nice, but I'm fine - I wasn't hit by anything. I guess you already know Frost should see them, and I suppose the idiot should too," though the tone she used to end that comment with indicated that she wouldn't mind if he didn't. His gunshot wound could become infected and kill him, for all she cared. Actually, she hoped it did.

Erotic? Ew. Although he repressed the shudder of disgust, Frost’s shoulders tensed and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “A gag sounds beautiful,” he responded mildly to Xander’s offer, “or perhaps enough tranquilisers to fell a Wailord; I think he maybe be delirious, I can think of no other reason anyone would be so rude. Scale of one to ten... You know I have never found pain scales very helpful, they are highly subjective. Ten is the worst you can imagine: what if one person is extremely imaginative and another a complete wimp?... Tangent. Pain from one to ten: not high on the scale - perhaps a three or a four but gradually improving - and no trouble breathing. On the subject of drugs: I doubt they will force me to take anything, but I am prepared to humour you and shall take or do whatever they suggest today. Additionally; hello Claire, I am pleased that you made it back in one piece... Approaching the garage now: bay three, would somebody please arrange for the door to open?”

He wanted to get out of the car and away from Izaya. He swore he could still feel the young man’s breath on him; it was like a combination of prickling needles and oozing slime. He felt disgusting, but not just because of the lingering sensations inflicted upon him by the red-eyed young man. Blood was crusting on his arm, and sweat was drying all over him. He wanted a shower. Nothing else. He didn’t want the injury on his arm cleaned up and given a stitch or two if necessary. He didn’t want to have his ribs inspected. He didn’t want painkillers. All he wanted was a shower, but he knew that letting him wash would be close to the bottom of everyone else’s priority list. He was dirty. He hated being dirty.

"...shall take or do whatever they suggest today."

Izaya wasn't so confident on his waning ability to focus, but hearing the tail-end of Frost's conversation with Xander really wasn't helping his brain, which was already stuck on slightly perverted thoughts. He giggled giddily. "Hehehe...a gag..." he muttered, probably not in a right state of mind. Hopefully no one else had heard him or followed his perverse train of thought. It was his blood-loss. Really.

Despite that, Grunt Nakura wasn't yet out of it enough to dismiss the request to open the door to bay three. In fact, he was dead set on not being found within the garage once the vehicle came to a complete stop. Thus, as Frost continued chatting away with his concerned younger roommate, Orihara took the opportunity to open the door he had opened earlier and discreetly leap out the moving SUV. Landing a little hard, he bit back a yelp, but managed to avoid having to roll across the ground. He hoped the momentum would close the door behind him, though not as securely or loudly as to alert his temporary 'partner' to his disappearance.

One desire Izaya shared with Frost was the desire to remain clean. Cleanliness was next to godliness, after all. And after all those sweaty training sessions in the hot sun, gasping for air while kicked-up dust stuck to the moist skin of his less-than-muscular body, the brunette was more intent than ever to get a shower - bullet wound or no bullet wound. The smell of blood was irritating his sensitive nostrils, and the knowledge that it was his own only worsened his mood. He had been careless. Careless enough to get shot in the back directly. And why? Because he had been watching Frost's back - literally - as the stubbornly psychotic blonde had refused his help.

"Ah, Frosty-chan," he sighed, smiling painfully to himself as he limped slowly back to base, hoping to find another entrance around. With luck, his black hoodie would keep the wound from being openly obvious until he could get the infirmary to treat it. "You really are different. I hate to be a pest and run, but I really couldn't let your roommate see me, you know?" he spoke quietly, seeming to talk to himself as he chuckled. While he did wish to be clean, his desire for a shower was not so desperate as Frost's. Indeed, he had quite another reason for avoiding immediate medical attention. "After all, Mr. Xander and I already know each other, and it wouldn't do anyone any good for you two to discover that."