The vehemence of the man's response surprised him, particularly given that up until this conversation Alfred hadn't considered that he had done anything wrong. In the month of August, at any rate. Obviously he had done something very wrong before setting sail, but Ari Fisk hadn't lashed out at him over that, which made Alfred leap to the conclusion that he must have known more about his last conversation with Zelda than he had let on. If he knew the two of them had ended on amiable terms — and if he knew that Alfred had sent her a modest present from Egypt — there were any number of directions his thoughts might have gone after that. Maybe he'd concluded that Alfred was trying to seduce her again (which would have been an entirely reasonable assumption, from the facts he had, even though Alfred had no intention of doing so), or that he was otherwise taking advantage of Zelda's naivete.

Alfred didn't really have time to reflect on that assumption before the spell hit him, knocking him back against the counter top and sending several items previously located there (some, judging by the sound, made of glass) scattering around the room. It wasn't so much painful as it was shocking — though he supposed he really shouldn't have been shocked, since the man had had a wand leveled at him for the entire conversation. Still, that he was being attacked now seemed a bit... well, unfair, really, though he knew better than to use that word in this context.

"Bloody hell," he managed, when he caught his breath again. Once the initial shock had worn off a bit, he realized he did hurt: the edge of the counter had jabbed into his lower back, giving him the feeling that if he tried to stand up he'd be crooked, and his head was lightly thrumming from the impact. He raised a hand instinctively to see whether there was a lump, or anything of the sort, and realized his hand was bleeding — he'd bashed it against something that had broken. He didn't know what — he couldn't even really discern the shape of the gash, just a smear of bright red.

"Alright," he said quickly, well aware that in these circumstances — in close quarters with a man who was armed and already aiming at him, when Alfred hadn't even thought to keep his wand in a readily accessible pocket — he was outmatched and could very easily end up in a bad way. "I will. There's no need for — this," he said, making a sweeping gesture towards the room at large with his bleeding hand.