Alain shakes his head dumbly, not sure himself whether it's in answer to her comment about powers or about the Arena. Closing his eyes, he takes a long drag of smoke (it tastes flavourless and dry to him, even with the filter broken off) and another slug of whiskey before saying quietly, "I made it maybe halfway through this week. A week longer than Roland. But we both should have done better. Cort would roll in his grave if he saw us."

He knows that means nothing to her, but that isn't the point. He's talking half to himself now. Another drag of his cigarette, though, and his eyes focus back on her. "As for powers, they've been taken from me here. No doubt because they'd be too dangerous to be worth the risk."