Alfred swallows hard at the vivid mental image he gets of the party descending upon his mentor, the way he would scream as he was drained dry, the way he would no doubt beg for the help of his assistant-

Oh, he feels a little sick. He swallows hard, clenching his eyes shut for a moment to shake his head and try to dispel the thought.

When he opens them again, he brings his hands together to twiddle his fingers. Always so anxious.

"I sort of...if it had to happen, I...I sort of wish...it had been you. You wouldn't have...left me for dead. She did. I...."

He looks pathetic - shivering in the foyer in drenched clothes that don't belong to him, eyes welling up with heartbreak, paled skin going a little further off-color with overwhelm.