Jacob might well be a little... odd. But not insane, he thinks. He just knows things very few humans are meant to know, and he was brought up to kill people. That does things to a person that probably isn't healthy, and Victorian coping mechanisms are gin or opium. Or both!

"Nightmare, more like. But I think we have to assume it's real until we wake up home and in our beds." He says with a lopsided, apologetic smile. It's a lot to deal with, a lot to take in. "And I'll take that as a compliment."

He nods in reply to Marty's question. "Something that will help us leave this place, yeah? Stone... tokens, with eyes on." He remains that, amongst the sea of information. But thankfully, there's something familiar about this. It's like a mission, go find the thing, kill the target, bring it back, go for a pint. He can do this.

"Do you want to stick together? Two heads, better than one." Not that Jacob tends to work with people he just met, but it seems a good way to keep Marty from getting snatched by another tree. Besides, he's intrigued. He's never met someone who dresses like that or talks the way Marty does. Not even Ned, another American.