[When his shoulder is grasped, Alfred stares at the hand for a moment, sliding his gaze up the attached arm to fix Phil with an attentive look. He doesn't cut the other man off, doesn't bristle because the intent is kind - in fact, he attempts to smile back, a flimsy, half-formed thing that doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

...Thank you. Really, thank you for saying that. But there is...still more to it than that.

She...didn't love me. Not at all. And I didn't want to see it, because a lot of people don't really, ah...like me. But the...the castle? The vampires there? They...spoke of me like I belonged there. And...and when you spend years being told there are so many things wrong with who you are, then someone - someone wants you, but it's - it's not who you-

[His voice breaks, and Alfred himself is dangerously close to breaking, too. He looks at the tiny figure of Herbert in the snowglobe, tears tracking down his cheeks.]

You...you may have noticed...that my doppelganger was...was a vampire, when I am not.

He was better, more comfortable at being me than I am. Remembering...everything he did just...makes me feel like I am in my own way. But I don't know how not to be.

I've realized that I don't know who I am. What I want, what I like. The Alfred who you were...with? He was free.

I just feel...lost.