Alfred has, of course, been avoiding Sarah, too. Just looking at her makes him remember things he doesn't want to think about, a series of nights that were the hardest of his life. His scar aches, faintly, and his jaw sets.

But still. Civility. They do live together in this place, after all.

"...Some of their old clothes," he finally responds after about three times as long as he should have taken, eyes flicking away from the girl and down to the shirt he's holding. "To see what can be salvaged. I - I like to sew. Mend things."

He's trying his hardest not to feel...what he is inclined to feel about this. About her.