There's a scrapping noise, something along the back of Alex's spine clicking and not in that I-screwed-up-my-shoulder-skiiing way, either. Alex stands up to his full height, turning to face his rescuer, surprised he actually went and saved him. He can't help the little suspicious surge, though, because he knows what they say about things seeming too good to be true.

"I'm good. Thanks again," Alex pats himself down, stopping fast when he hears his armor clanging instead of just palm hitting clothes. He drops his hands. "How'd you even lift that? You in the Olympics or something?"

He's joking (mostly).