~A friend...he was very friendly, after his manner.~ An undead being who drinks blood...how novel. Grace's thoughts go to the Undead she knew and avoided (his violent air and affinity for electricity always did put her off, but in fairness to his manners the Undead seemed happy to permit her the distance she desired, and never willfully intruded upon it), but, no, the gentleman does not seem to be the same kind of thing. He's much smaller, and if he's carrying around a generator Grace can't see it.

Her visible eye refocuses as she gets to the end of that train of thought: The gentleman Jack was employed for violent work, but outside of his duties he was, I am given to understand, unfailingly polite by the standards of the city-folk. He went out of his way to check up on me, and inquire after my health, and to tell me a terribly great deal about London. If I have a complaint it is only that I needed the help of several other people to get him to realize that I lacked context for his stories.~