The sight of Maggie--of all people--at the bar inspires in him a peculiar reluctance. It's not that it's such a touching scene--she simply looks...self-contained, sitting there with her vodka. For some moments (as he savors the few sips of beer remaining in his glass), Alan gives serious consideration to walking out the door and back into the night, leaving her and everything else undisturbed.

"Finally," he says, setting his empty glass down on the bar and breathing the word out like a contented sigh. He smiles benignly over at Maggie (he's taken care to position himself out of arm's reach and therefore, hopefully, harm's way). "No more the unanswered text, the lone voice resounding in an empty room. No, this time when you storm off, as you inevitably must, I'll be afforded some closure."