Before he even really realised what had happened, Alexander had leaped across from his post at the kettle and attempted to tackle the phone from his boyfriend's hands. In his defence, he didn't do it with violent force, but of course there was a desperate intent... and that meant he didn't fully realise how hard he was being with him as he attempted to grab the mobile. He was fully confident he would get off from any murder charge, but he didn't want to have to go through that; to be put under suspicion that would loom over him his whole life, regardless of the innocent verdict he anticipated. Therefore, if he had to push his boyfriend to the floor and wrestle the phone from him, he would.
He didn't think Sandra would get involved, which, given how much he had gotten wrong today, perhaps he should have anticipated. He didn't even pay her any notice until feeling her attempt to pull him away - something she was never going to do given his large frame, but it didn't stop her digging her sharp nails into his shoulders to pry him off, while screeching furiously at him all the while.
In one swift move which involved him pushing Sandra away, Alexander stopped. The moment he pushed her, he regretted it-- especially when she toppled over and hit her head on the corner of the fancy marble table he'd recently purchased. He may have tried killing her in the past, but she was the one person he had regretted trying to hurt, so the fact she was still on the floor, bleeding from the mouth and nose and barely breathing, was enough for him to consider the mobile -and Timothy- irrelevant.
"S-Shit-- get a fucking towel, Tim," he demanded, his voice full of concern as he knelt beside his longest friend and propped her head up on a pillow, unable to hide his relief at the shallow breaths. Barely there, sure, but the fact they were there counted for something.