Alan watches coldly as Clu goes through the motions of realization and then rage. How much more difficult it is to feel afraid of someone, Alan thinks, when you’ve already very literally held their life in your hands. The request gets a moment of appraising silence. And then: “If that’s what you want…”

Clu could overpower him whether he was facing him or not. Alan turns and walks to the bookshelf, pulling the disk from its hiding place and holding it flat. Its weight is almost familiar now, the sense of foreboding the disk once held worn away with use. Alan turns so Clu can see it, apparently undamaged.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want it handed to you,” he says, nor does he refrain from demonstrating why. A fraction of intent all it takes to activate the disk in his hands, gold light spinning upwards to sketch Clu’s likeness, conspicuously absent of any protections that would have blocked access.

Alan has chosen to show mercy. That doesn’t mean he’s without spite.