These things look more like profiles than tombstones, considering the fields about occupations. Marty's head cocks as he reads a tablet about a so-called "alchemist", and how apparently this man had a heart more rich than any treasure. Even the sweetest folk are destined to die someday, he knows, but this stark reminders like these are exactly why he never went to graveyard parties on Halloween (that, and nobody ever invited him).
"Hm?" He turns when Jacob speaks up, none the wiser to his plight. "Oh, uh..." There's a moment's hesitation as he considers telling Jacob when he's from, but hey-- they're a team now, and Jacob had been more than forthcoming about his own situation. If this is a dream, then there aren't any consequences; if this isn't a dream, then maybe Doc'll make an exception if they're both out of their respective time periods.
So, free hand rubbing lightly at the side of his neck, Marty admits, "I'm from 1986. Sorry. I probably should've said so sooner, huh?"
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"Hm?" He turns when Jacob speaks up, none the wiser to his plight. "Oh, uh..." There's a moment's hesitation as he considers telling Jacob when he's from, but hey-- they're a team now, and Jacob had been more than forthcoming about his own situation. If this is a dream, then there aren't any consequences; if this isn't a dream, then maybe Doc'll make an exception if they're both out of their respective time periods.
So, free hand rubbing lightly at the side of his neck, Marty admits, "I'm from 1986. Sorry. I probably should've said so sooner, huh?"