[ Corvo is correct. Alan keeps going, clearly already having worked himself up. He's grabbing the whisky with a nod of thanks, gliding right back into his rant. His grip on the glass is tight. ]

And getting into other poeple's business? Private, closed matters that you're actually handling and they just throw a wrench in that because not only do they somehow know what happened, but they totally know the exact circumstances you were in, obviously, and they would never because they're so much better than you. It's a fucking joke, it's--- sorry, are those rats?