Jacob certainly didn't except his afternoon to turn out quite like it did. He had been on a Templar Hunt within the district of Westminster to kill one of Starrick's many lackeys to loosen his control over London. Evie had told him that he wasn't ready to storm through Westminster yet, with the most skilled Templars in control of that area. He had rolled his eyes at his sister, ignoring her advice completely. Ever since Father died, Evie acted like his substitute and it was extremely infuriating. Just because she was older than him by four minutes didn't mean that she had authority over him in anyway. So he did what he did best, go against her wishes.

The mission had, truthfully been going fairly well. He had picked off the other Templars one by one, knowing that it wouldn't be right to let them live as well as their leader. Just as he planned to shoot the man in the head, he misplaced his footing on the roof. As his finger had been on the trigger, the jolt caused him to fire on accident and he fell off the roof. Thankfully, his good reflexes caused him to latch onto a slight edge to the bricks. Yet by that time, the Templar leader had altered every Blighter around. When he had glanced down, he saw at least ten of them and some policemen that Jacob had found strange. Wouldn't the police want to arrest the Blighters?

Nonetheless, Jacob knew that he would have to leave. He may be reckless but he wasn't stupid enough to fight nearly twenty men. He had hopped from edge to edge; they all shot at him like crazy. One had managed to land a hit just above his fingers of his left hand, causing him to lose his grip and fall to the ground. After landing, he legged it out of the area, heading towards the nearest carriage available. Never did he think that a woman was going to be on the carriage he hijacked, leading him to standing face to face with her right now.

He decided that she was quite pretty, but not extremely jaw dropping in anyway. She had a heart shaped face with a seemingly natural light olive skin tone, her lips slightly plump. Her nose was probably what was the most striking for it was completely straight and narrow, and for some reason seemed to stand out on her face the most.

There was a large scar marring her features; it started at her hair line on the left side of her side of her face, travelling down to her eye. When she blinked he could see that it cut into her eyelid before ending at her nostril. It had been clearly covered in powder but it was still very predominant.

Her eyes were almond in shape, a dark brown colour with flecks of green within them here and there. There was no distinct style of her brown, almost black hair for it had all come completely loose after his horrendous driving. Instead, the curls fell down to her ribs, strands of hair all over the place.

"Catherine Wood," She announced pulling him from his thoughts, making him realise that she was holding her hand out to him to shake. He grabbed her hand gently, yet firmly, bringing it up and down.

"Jacob Frye," He smiled at her and he saw her cheeks heat up which motivated his next actions on even more.

Instead of letting go of Catherine's hand, he moved his own so that he was only holding her fingers. He saw her eyes widen as he brought her hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. Jacob watched as her olive skin morphed into a bright red colour, matching the large pendent that sat on her neck. For once, his charms towards women didn't result in a slap to the face. If he had a pound every time he so much as winked at a lady that led to a red hand mark on his face, he would be as rich as the Queen.

Unexpectedly, Catherine snatched her hand away from his grasp and he awaited the slap to his handsome face. Instead, he saw her glancing down at her hand strangely as though it was some foreign object. He cleared his throat to break her out from her trance like state. Catherine shook her head, wide eyes snapping towards him. Her face was still coloured crimson and then she swiftly turned on her heel.

"Onwards then Mister Frye," She spluttered, striding forward at a speed that no one in that style of dress would ever be able to do.

Jacob didn't know whether or not he was pleased with the affect that kissing her hand would have. The poor woman appeared to be utterly dazed by his reaction, not at all sure what to do with herself. He found it odd really, knowing that she was married; he had felt the ring on her finger when he had held his hand. Perhaps she was mortified that, as a married woman, a man was trying to woo her. Or it could be that her husband didn't treat her in such a way.

But he was only making assumptions. Who was he to question her personal life? He had known her for a little over fifteen minutes and it was unlikely that he was ever going to see her again after random situation they had both found themselves in. He picked up the pace in his footsteps, somehow finding it difficult to keep up with her.

"What caused you to steal my carriage, if you don't mind me asking?" She wondered, ending the awkward air that had been building towards them after his little stunt. His left eyebrow rose at the curiosity in her voice, having fully expected hostility instead. It was there on her face too, intrigue clear.

"Blighters," He told her simply.

Jacob felt her tense beside him, causing him to glance at her once again. Her face was tight, her lips pressed together into a thin line. Her once relaxed body language shifted to her arms crossing over her chest, her shoulder hunching in a defensive position. His eyebrow rose again, not having expected that reaction. He knew that the Blighters terrorised the streets and struck fear into the citizens of London but there was something more to her reaction that she was letting on. But he just shook it off; knowing that there was no way this seemingly innocent lady had anything to do with the Blighters of all people.

"You're… you're not one of them are you?" She stuttered slightly at her first words, sounding extremely fearful that made him frown.

"Pfft, they wish. I'm far too handsome," He joked and it worked for he saw her posture relax again. Hunched shoulders lowered and her arms came to rest behind her back, hands clasping together, back straitening in sophistication. She turned her head to the side to stare at him incredulously.

"What has you being handsome have to do with not being a part of the Blighters, Mister Frye?" She questioned, slight mirth colouring her tone.

"Didn't you know, Miss Wood?" He stage-whispered, leaning sideways, acting like he was about to let her in on a large secret.

Jacob slowed his steps to add to the dramatic effect, which she soon mimicked. It was very hard for him to contain his laughter over how roped in she was over his conspiratorial tone. He had been trained for as long as he could walk to be able to act and be able to handle his emotions.

Well most of the time depending on who you talked to.

Nonetheless, he made sure to keep his voice down as he talk to Catherine, the poor woman eagerly awaiting his next words.

"They're all ugly the lot of them, that's what," He couldn't escape the laughter that fell from his lips at her astonished face, staring at him as though he had lost his marbles. She sighed through her nose, moving away from him and back to her original position. Catherine shook her head, her eyes rising to the sky.

"You are one odd man, Mister Frye. I'm convinced you're an escaped patient from Lambeth Asylum with the way you drive, follow me and make strange jokes," His laughter died like the wind blowing out a flame. He drew back, having not expected that.

Frankly, he was quite offended that she didn't find his little joke funny and insulting him in such a way. He would have expected this from Evie, let alone a stranger he had just met. Jacob felt his temper rise a tad, the insult striking a blow to his ego more than he like. Here he was, acting like a gentleman to a woman who he had caused a lot of trouble for. He didn't even know why he was being so kind really, he had Templars to kill, Blighters to beat up. Why was he wasting his time here? Jacob didn't at all know, but he pegged it on the fact that he felt a slight attraction towards her. It would be doomed anyways, she was married after all. Nevertheless, he knew that he had to finish what he started, never being one to not finish a job properly. It was in his nature. Now he was helping her find her driver a tiny bit more irritable.

"Let's just find your driver and I'll be out of your hair, Miss Wood. Back to Lambeth after," He tried to make his tone one of mirth but it came out harsher than he had meant it to. Her smile dimmed from her face, missing the flinch that his words inflicted on her. Catherine smacked a gloved hand on her forehead, sighing in defeat.

"Oh, Mister Frye. Oh, I'm so sorry! Oh no, I didn't mean to offend you. My mind doesn't want to think before I speak sometimes. I'm so sorry," He didn't answer, knowing that he would undoubtedly be rude when it wasn't needed.

Catherine sounded extremely apologetic and guilty over her words, an underlying of fear embedded in her voice as well. Despite her rude comment, he allowed to slide, knowing that she was upset about her actions. Though of course he didn't tell her that, all he needed was for his temper to cool down before he talked again. Catherine didn't try to talk to him again after that, choosing to also remain in silence. It left the pair in their own thoughts and the awkward air soon rising again between them.

Jacob glanced at their surroundings, seeing that they had now reached the bridge that lead from Southwark straight across to Westminster. Big Ben stood tall in the distance, its hands telling him that it was now quarter to two. Carriages made their way across the bridge at a slow pace, horses only being able to go so fast. His eyes caught Blighters on some of the carriages, their eyes undoubtedly searching for either his sister or him. It most likely the latter. So he did his best to keep his head down knowing that the moment they saw him, he would be attack instantly. Plus, it would end up in Catherine being hurt as well and he wasn't one to put a civilian in harm's way. Although he never did follow the Creed properly, he did value that one aspect.

A nearby carriage passed, closer than the others. His sensed perked up instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. In the corner of his eye, he saw a Blighter carriage slowing down towards them, their awareness on his growing. Jacob took action quickly, moving forward to become closer to Catherine. Without giving her warning, he went to gently grasp her arm. Under his fingertips he felt her flinch at the sudden contact, her entire form freezing up.

"Just keep moving forward. Stay calm and normal," He whispered, knowing that his choice in not telling her in beforehand wasn't wise.

"W-what are you doing?" Her voice shook and he frowned from behind her, not expecting the fear in her voice.

"Just trying to hide from a few Blighters," He spoke with a tone on nonchalant trying to act cool in the situation as she was clearly not. Jacob saw her head turn to the side as though she was going to look behind them and give him away.

"Don't look behind you," He told her before she could fully gaze behind her. Catherine's head snapped forward and he heard her wince slightly at the speed.

She reached a gloved hand towards her neck and Jacob drew back slightly to avoid being hit in the face. He inhaled deeply, his nose taking in her lemon perfume. Jacob found that he quite liked that smell; it was better than whatever the hell the Rooks smelt like half the time – blood, sweat, dirt or death. It all got rather unappealing after a while.

"What do the Blighters even want with you? Are you their public enemy number one?" Catherine wondered, sounding utterly perplexed as to what was going on.

"You could say that," He informed her cheekily, trying to lighten the mood slightly. The carriage was still slow behind them and Jacob could still feel their keen eyes on their backs but he could tell that they were beginning to grow bored of them both.

"I really don't think that's something to be proud of! Do you know how dangerous they are?" He winced at the shrillness of her voice, drawing back at the pitch. The fear from earlier creeped back into her voice again and it made Jacob wonder just how much the Blighters terrorised the streets. All he saw them as was a few pesky flies that simply needed to be swatted into oblivion but it seemed that they were much more than he originally thought.

It was why he wanted to build up the Rooks, to not only loosen the Templar's hold over London but to make London free from fear, to make it a safer place for its citizens. Yet they were directly involved with the Templars, acting as their lackeys and perhaps acted as their smoke and mirrors. He thought to ask them about Templars but she would probably call him a Lambeth patient again so he didn't bother. Besides, it wasn't like Templars made themselves well known; they only did it in subtle ways much like the Assassins. An endless silent feud for years on end. It became rather boring after a while.

"I'll be fine," She huffed at that and Jacob rolled his eyes at her behaviour that was reminiscent of a child. After what seemed like forever, Jacob felt the eyes draw away from them both. He heard the neigh of their horse, its hooves slapping against the dirt at a higher speed then before. Jacob released his hold on her arm then, coming to stand at her side.

He watched curiously as she brought her right hand up to her left shoulder. There was a pained expression on her face as she rubbed her fingers against her shoulder, rotating it as she did.

"Did I hurt you?" Jacob questioned, wondering why he shoulder would be hurting that badly when he was barely even holding onto her arm.

Catherine shook her head, glancing at him briefly. He caught a grim gleam in her eye that he didn't quite understand but she turned away before he had the chance to examine the look further.

"No, no, I just knocked it on a door frame this morning," She informed and he shrugged, not seeing it as being important anymore.

They found themselves at the end of the bridge, now standing directly next to Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. Jacob gazed around the area, remembering how he had pulled the man, Herbert, off the carriage. He was glad that he hadn't mentioned to Catherine how he had all but shoved the man to the ground as he took the carriage; being a little rougher than he had intended. Could you blame him? He was in a rush to get away from the swarm of Templars and Blighters, he needed a hasty escape.

There was no sign of him from what he could see and he went to activate his special vision, only for Catherine's voice to break through his concentration.

"And you were sure that it was here?" She wondered and he turned his attention towards her. When he turned to her, he expected wrath over what he told her being a 'fable' but instead found clear distress on her face.

He quirked an eyebrow up at that, her behaviour towards her driver strange. It was obvious that she was some sort of upper class man, her rich clothes and the red ruby chain around neck gave it away, so why did she care about some old driver? In all twenty years of his life, he had only seen higher class as being arrogant, ignorant and self-absorbed snobs who cared about nothing else but their social status and themselves. It made him frazzled over her behaviour.

"Yes, I'm one hundred percent sure. He can't have gone far, we'll just look around and ask," His words did nothing to ease the anxiety now practically radiating off her but she nodded anyways and he reciprocated the action.

Catherine moved away from him and he saw her make her way over to a few civilians milling around. Whilst she asked them where Herbert had gone, Jacob inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes for a second, blocking out any outside noise in order to focus properly. When he opened his eyes again, the world was filled in white and grey. Catherine was the only person in colour, everyone one else remaining white for they weren't important. A few police officers across the street became highlighted in blue and there were no reds. There was no yellow; indicating that Herbert wasn't here nor was there any evidence left to suggest where he had gone, which he found odd.

"Mister Frye!" Catherine broke him out of his concentration again, her voice full of heightened panic. He snapped his eyes over to the woman to find her eyes wide, her hands trembling. Before he could even ask her what she had discovered, she exploded.

"The Blighters took him less than a minute ago! Oh Herbert, we must-"

"Help!"

There was a wild cry that that came from a carriage that zipped past them. He jumped back, pulling Catherine along with him as it nearly ploughed over. Jacob kept a hold of her shoulder to keep her steady to prevent her from falling over. There was pause as he processed what he just witnessed, the pieces falling into place

"Was that..." He trailed off not quite wanting it to be true.

"Yes," Can the defeated answer and Jacob sighed. He let go of her shoulders, brushing past her. He rushed over to an empty carriage that was conveniently pointing in the direction where the Blighters had gone.

"Hey!" He heard Catherine call out to him but he knew that there wasn't enough time to wait for her when an innocent man was going to be pit in harm's way because of his little mistake.

He placed one foot on the step, grabbing the sides to pull himself up. Jacob sat down on the cushioned seat, grabbing the reigns.

"Wait,"

He turned his head to the side, finding a flustered Catherine at the bottom of the steps. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as she mimicked his earlier actions; though she did it would more difficulty. Jacob let go the reigns, placing them on his lap. He reached over, grasping her hands to help her up. Once she was sitting down, appearing to be quite red faced, she glanced at him.

"What are we waiting for," She told him, a tiny smile on his face. He nodded his head and cracked the reigns, spurring the horses' forwards. This was definitely shaping up to be the weirdest day of his life.