Alabaster finally emerged, slightly damp, but clean and changed, holding the remains of his prior outfit in his hands. It was headed for the garbage... as soon as he rifled through all of his pockets and made sure he wasn't forgetting anything.

He made for the couch and began doing just that. Pocket watch, pistol, a knife or two, spyglass, a few other odds and ends. Just because his primary weaponry was the mechanical limbs on his own arms didn't mean he couldn't be prepared otherwise - for all the good it did him, apparently.