Perhaps there was more to this girl than met the eye. He almost wondered if she dealt with this sort of thing often - she certainly seemed to act that way. That also had him wondering if others from Whitechapel have hopped here before. He half looked behind him, thinking dimly back to the boy he'd left bleeding on the platforms in the smoke. Unless someone happened by (which was unlikely), or he appeared here (not quite as unlikely as the former), he'd probably bleed to death. What a horrible waste, he mused. Grandfather Clock wouldn't be pleased with him.

Providing he returned to Whitechapel at all.

Putting his hands in his pockets, he fell in-step with Saga. "I assume, then, that you live here." Idle conversation was not something that he enjoyed or tolerated, let alone started, but information was key, and to gain it without being outright demanding or threatening, he would resort to chit-chat.