He drops the handkerchief in shock, at the strength of Alfie's arms, at the fact that he's moving him. He curls both hands around the edge of the desk, and then--

Forces himself to take a breath, and his shoulders slope down. Not too much, because if he does he'll crash, he'll know it, the loss of adrenaline to the system enough to make him go down quick. But just enough to make himself remember.

"One had by by the throat. Stabbed him in the inner thigh- bled out next to us, unnoticed by his mates. One- the smallest, he got a shot through the arm, and another a bullet in his gut. Kicked me gun out of range, then, and me knife was in the first one."

Plus: his hat's gone. He reaches a hand up and rakes it through his hair, as if he'd only just noticed.