Perhaps not so much deaf to hear the screeching, but perhaps mad, Alice would say. She has no real reaction to the shriek. In between, her real hallucinations finally relenting (and not so much her desperate attempt to compartmentalize), random shrieks could be heard at the asylum. Alice's responses are delayed, as she quietly takes note of those around her.

The muttering and the stranger's question are confirmation that it isn't just her imagining sounds. From the outside, Alice is awkward and maybe even a little sullen. Inwardly, her mind is racing, and her hunger isn't helping it. Slowly, she acknowledges him, finally, with a terse expression. It can't be helped, Alice will always be wary of strangers, especially men.

Though, Alice still retains her manners. Quietly, she shakes her head, “No,” At least she didn't think so. No random aches or bruises confirm as much. All because Alice can also find herself with either, “This is--” she mulls it over in hear head, because she isn't about to explain Wonderland to anyone. Never again, she vows. “-- from elsewhere.”

Alice, who is so desperate to be seen as anything but insane, is now dawning in the realization her apron isn't helping. “I had to defend myself.”