Men like him don’t die in places like this. –Basch, Final Fantasy XII
Alex has been to some of the truly horrible places in the world. Looking for opportunities, hunting down leads, even just seeing if there is anything he’d like to buy. He’s the kind of person that likes to collect things that are as authentic as possible and the only person he really trusts to make the final call on whether or not something is authentic is himself. He worked hard to get those qualifications to be able to do so when it comes to certain things (weapons, mostly) and he was going to use them if it killed him.
It wasn’t like he had anything else to live for and even though he might get hurt, he never loses more than blood and pain.
Alex has heard more than one man be grateful that they are part of whatever caravan he is a part of because that means that even if they don’t come back to their families alive then at least their bodies will be brought back. Alex always makes sure that such men’s families are taken care of if their husbands and fathers die in his service.
He may be no man’s friend, but those that he has counted as his are always well cared for.
One woman said that it wasn’t because he cared for those men because he saw them as people, but because Alex always took good care of his things. This was right before she’d left his ring on the kitchen table with a note saying that she needed more from a man than the care he would give things. She’d been the kindest of the women he’d almost married, but also the last.
He hadn’t bothered at the family thing anymore after her.
It was likely because it was just one more thing that a man like him would never really have.