Avery wasn’t sure what exactly happened to her, she was following orders for the Assassins - She and her brother split up and would meet up later, however she didn’t realize that she would come across some old hidden object that the Assassins had hidden for… centuries at the very least. As she picked it up she saw a flash of light and her head felt immensely painful, before she knew it she was in an unfamiliar place. It took a few moments before she could really look up and look around, unfortunately when the pain subsided she noticed three men walking towards her. They were dressed… very differently, but she didn’t think much of it, she had heard that the Assassin order had objects that had odd powers, perhaps this was just making her see things, or maybe she was hit in the head and didn’t know it and this was all a dream?
Either way, the men didn’t appear friendly, they commented on her dress, as if she had just stepped out of a costume party. It was as if… something was very wrong here. If she wasn’t so confused she would have noticed that one of the men had a gun earlier, however she was lucky that someone came to her aid, quickly dispatching the men for her before she had a chance. His moves were… fluid, quick, someone who had been practicing these for years…
When the man addressed her, Avery finally found her voice to speak, “Well, I… I really don’t know sir,” A thick southern belle accent came out of her mouth, “I… I don’t think I was meant to be here, I actually don’t really know where here is… I must’ve hit my head or something because I know something just ain’t fittin’ about this situation.”
Then it occurred to her, that this man who helped her was also dressed strangely and had an English accent, “Now just wait a minute here, you’re an Englishman, so why are you dressed like those other men - like y’all are a bunch of farm hands? I heard Englishmen were really fancy in suits and hats.”
Of course, the simple fact the poor stranger couldn’t even recall the simple notion of where she WAS completely flew over the Englishman’s head the second she chose to berate his style.
The leather jacket he wore certainly was priceless for him- paired with a simple grey shirt and casual black slacks. Simple yet stylish. Simply Jacob.
“ Right, well given you can’t even realize the difference between genuine leather and the rags those other blokes were wearing I think you’ve taken a solid whack to that gorgeous noggin. A trip to the hospital it is- can you stand? ”
To be fair, he did wear suits- occasionally, rarely. They tended to be a waste of money half the time though, torn to bits with the brawls he would end up in by the end of the day... or mission. Right now the Assassin’s focus was stuck on the blonde before him though, the manners he was raised with bubbling to the surface. His muscles rippled as he gently plucked her petite form up from the ground as if she was lighter than a feather, his stance rigid as he ensured to allow her to lean on him if need be. He might have been toying around, but he was aware she probably did hit her head. Golden irises watched her like a hawk, the flicker of concern from earlier merely dulled within his gaze.
“ Jacob Frye, by the way. And you are... ? ”
