[Alfred sees how the man shrinks back. His concern spikes higher and with it, his patience thins out. He's used to the locals here thinking little of him. He isn't like the immortals about. He looks his damn age. But he doesn't even blink an eye at the knife. Instead, there's just the most bored of thoughts. About how poorly they were holding the things. Amateur. They're amateurs.

The next is a string of much darker thoughts and the harsh reminder that people would be angry at him if he went too far. Still, even as the men are headed his way, Alfred is pulling his gun.]

I'm afraid it does, mate. That bloke there, he owes me some money and I'd rather collect it off him than your dead bodies. So shove off. And you. You best not take this chance to run. I won't like it much if I have to track you down and disappear you for stiffing me.

[Alfred shifts, as if to make a path. He's giving the man a chance to indeed run out of there. He's playing distraction, finger on the trigger. It's not a warning shot he'll fire, but at a hand with a knife. He won't miss.]