"Falling from that beam would have lead to death," he remarked. Whitechapel was an elevated city - the remnants of its early days lost in the smog and ash, hundreds and hundreds of feet below. When the towers of Whitechapel rose to their now tremendous heights, most of the streets went with them. "Landing here is probably preferable, though I would like to get back." Again, almost out of habit, he fished the sliver pocket watch from its resting place. The clock itself seemed to be working (though whether or not the time was correct remained to be seen). He frowned slightly, as though hopping that in the time he hadn't been watching, Grandfather Clock would have somehow conveyed that He was still watching. He was still there. No such luck.

Again, Alabaster angled his head, this time curiously. One dark eyebrow rose, ever slight, as he regarded her. "What's a... "plane"?"