"They're not wrong," Alain admits with a little half-smile, and lets himself relax just enough to sit down with her. There's still a lot of tension in him, though, thrumming undeniably just below the surface. "Anyroad, it's not just a gun I want. It's mine. My father's. But if it's not to be had..." He shrugs it off, running a hand back through his hair and shaking his head.

After a moment, he collects himself, holding his hand out to shake. "I'm Alain. Alain Johns. Cry pardon, I should have introduced myself sooner."