Alan mirrors him on the other side of the lift. His mouth tightens at the edges, as if he's bitten into a sugared lemon: a tart expression, though not without an edge of humor.

"More often than I'd like."

He pauses, considering Edwin. One of the few times someone had a pistol on him had been after the destruction of the Barrel, when his betrayal had been revealed and Violet -- and Maud, and Edwin, he's fairly sure, and everyone -- seemed half-ready to kill him. That was months ago, of course. The shame of the memory is thankfully softened by distance, though he's not sure he'll ever entirely escape it.

It's strange, to have history with someone who doesn't know you from Adam.

"I'm afraid I'm not giving you a very respectable first impression."