A self satisfied smile plays over his lips as he draws himself to his full height after a particularly vicious simulation, watching his surroundings steadily flip back into the metal chrome paneling of the combat hall. brushing hair away from his face,he leaves for the lockers, waving a hand at the control room absently in acknowledgement for the work they’d done. He braces his arms against the sleek tiled walls of the showers, letting the spray fall over his downturned head and wash the sweat and grime away - as well as a not insignificant amount of blood he notes, watching washed out red swirl down he drain. Eyes closed, he mentally takes tally of the injuries he’s attained. A single deep cut when he didn’t dodge fast enough, rough skid marks and abrasions from sliding along the floors and he’s certain the bottoms of his feet are going to bruise from that last landing. All in all not too terrible and he contemplates forgoing a visit to the infirmary until he shifts his weight and pain cracks up his spine - ah...he’d forgotten being thrown against the wall had fractured a rib. He supposes that should get looked at. 

Sliding back into his clothes, he strides out of the lockers lightly, heading to the infirmary, wondering idly how long it would take to be healed. It doesn’t matter, he surmises, after all his company is endlessly interesting. Knocking on the door, he peeks his head in with a cheeky grin “Hello again, it’s always so nice to see you.” He slips in fully, heading towards a chair, “Though I do wish it were under different circumstances you’ll be happy to note I’ve washed this time!”