He stared at her, very blatantly shocked. It was quite possibly the biggest expression to cross his face in years, but he just couldn't help it. 2011? There was no way- how was that even possible? What of Whitechapel, then? Was it still standing, or had the revolutionaries won? They'd certainly had time to, and as much as he didn't want to think that he alone made the difference between defeat or victory, he was still a key player. The proverbial ace up Grandfather Clock's sleeve---

Wait. Calm down, Alabaster, he told himself. This girl had promised to help him, and he certainly hoped that she could. His city - and above all his God - needed him. This girl, if she was indeed the key and not her abductor, was his only available hope.