At some point, Jacob may well see 1886 too (spoiler alert, nothing good comes of it) but from his current vantage of a 21-year-old, twenty years in the future is a long, long time. He doesn't even know what he'll be doing tomorrow. Hell, he doesn't even know where he is now. That's what he needs to focus on, the here and the now. Home is somewhere, and he can get there, but it'll involve all his focus. And then the young man on the bench is smiling a crooked smile at him and Jacob's focus dissipates.
"My pleasure. Er. Mister?" He doesn't know the man's name. They're tired together with vines like steel, Jacob's kneeling between his legs and they haven't exchanged names. Why is he like this? "I'm Frye. Jacob Frye."
He shifts a little, the motion is not easy as it could be, with their arms still secured, but he pauses and then realises he has a cravat on and pulls it off with one easy movement. With it, he can bandage the wound and put some gentle pressure on it, keeping it clean and slowing down that blood loss. And no one had to lose a shirt sleeve.
"A good laundress will get it out, don't worry. Cold water soak, not hot." Jacob mutters, regarding the fabric. He's had a lot of blood on his clothes before now. "Works a treat."
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"My pleasure. Er. Mister?" He doesn't know the man's name. They're tired together with vines like steel, Jacob's kneeling between his legs and they haven't exchanged names. Why is he like this? "I'm Frye. Jacob Frye."
He shifts a little, the motion is not easy as it could be, with their arms still secured, but he pauses and then realises he has a cravat on and pulls it off with one easy movement. With it, he can bandage the wound and put some gentle pressure on it, keeping it clean and slowing down that blood loss. And no one had to lose a shirt sleeve.
"A good laundress will get it out, don't worry. Cold water soak, not hot." Jacob mutters, regarding the fabric. He's had a lot of blood on his clothes before now. "Works a treat."