"Thanks for handling the fire," Alfred responded. He wasn't sure if Zelda had really even been talking to him, or whether she'd been talking to Miss Urquart — maybe the stuff had nothing to do with dinner and everything to do with just existing in the same room as Alfred and making small talk so that Zelda didn't have to expend any mental energy on it. She certainly looked... spent, after the interaction with Jo on the stairs. Which was understandable — she hadn't asked to walk into the middle of that, and she certainly hadn't asked to shoulder the burden of trying to keep Jo inside during a blizzard when Alfred couldn't even manage that. If she needed some time to recover, he could keep dancing through things with Miss Urquart until she was ready to engage again. All night, if he needed to.

Handing Zelda a plate, he retreated to the sofa. It might be more comfortable for Miss Urquart if he wasn't sitting right next to Zelda, much as he would have preferred to nestle in next to her — but he also didn't know whether Zelda would want that, at the moment, so best not. "So, Miss Urquart," he said, turning his attention mostly to his fish. "What brought you and — er, Miss Fisk to London?"

Small talk, calling Zelda Miss Fisk, avoiding looking at the snowfall out the window, keeping his thoughts from drifting to Jo and whether or not she was safe, trying to pretend nothing had just happened while Zelda slowly recovered from what had just happened... he could do this. He could do this all night. Why not?