It's a thought. It's a good thought, too, and Alan knows in the back of his head that Aerith is absolutely right. He doesn't agree with it, if the way he shoots her a look is anything to go by, face right set right back into a brooding look, but he doesn't have the heart to actually snap. Aerith, it seems, plays by Alice rules now.

Shit.

He sighs, heavy and noncommittal, and opts out of being Perceived like this as best as he can instead of getting too annoyed.

"You talked to Corvo? Manage to get more than three sentences out of him?"