Most of the blood on Jesper's face and hands were dry, which was both good and bad. Good in a sense that the kid was no longer bleeding, but bad, because Klaus had to scrub a little harder to wipe the mess away and clean Jesper's cuts. That wasn't necessarily the problem. The problem was the postman's winces and tight pulls as he tried second by second to distance himself from the pain. It made Klaus' heart fracture if only a little. During the process, the old woodsman did his best to assure the kid that he wasn't trying to hurt him on purpose. He kept his voice light and worked to make small jokes or quips that he hoped would lift the postman's spirits. To his surprise, some did, and Jesper would smile. It was in those brief moments where Klaus would wonder to himself how he ever grew to dislike the poor kid.

Once the kid's face was cleaned and tended to, Klaus moved down to his hands, being as careful as he possibly could. Luckily, none of Jesper's fingers seemed to be broken, but his knuckles were a bloody and bruised mess. Klaus was surprised the postman could even stand to write. They looked painful. The old woodman first took to cleaning the blood from his cut knuckles, which made the kid wince even more than he had before. After Klaus was done, he placed multiple pads of gauze over the bruises and open cuts, finally wrapping them securely in place. By the time he was done, Jesper's trembling hands were half covered in white bandages. Even though the kid was still in pretty bad shape, it was clear that he was already starting to feel better. Some of the colors had returned to his face, and he didn't seem as on edge as he had before. Klaus took to picking up his supplies and returning them to their respective places while Jesper reached again for the pen and paper, testing the mobility of his fingers. The old woodsman didn't look over his shoulder as he wrote; instead, he went into the kitchen and began preparing a fresh cup of hot tea. Jesper was already tense and beat down, he didn't need Klaus watching him while he tried his best to communicate whatever it was he needed to say.

A few things about the kid worried Klaus, however, one of those things being the writing. Alva had told the old woodsman that Jesper wasn't mute, not really. But so far, whenever the kid tried to speak, it had only come out in coughs or painful whimpers. The action of talking seemed to strain the kid, and Klaus couldn't help but wonder if all of those times Jesper had actually tried going to Alva or even Mogens to speak, he was motioning for a pen and paper. Something to make communicating a little easier. He decided not to dwell on that too much for now, and instead focused on the actual problem; Jesper had been jumped. He could understand not liking the kid; he hadn't up to this point, but Jesper hadn't done anything. Nothing to warrant such a brutal attack. The townspeople of Smeerensburg weren't too keen on outsiders, but they'd never resorted to outright violence. The postman still had some questions to answer, and Klaus could only hope the conversation would go over well.

Stepping back into the living room, Klaus noticed that Jesper had taken to rubbing the palm of his left hand with his right thumb, staring a hole through the couch. The kid was nearly completely still besides that, and only moved whenever he realized the woodsman was returning with tea in hand. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth fell open slightly. He grabbed the piece of paper and held it up for Klaus to see before he even made move to hand the kid his drink.

Thank you, Klaus.

The woodsman smiled and placed a hand over Jesper's lowering the paper down to his lap. "No thanks necessary, my friend. Here, drink this. It might help with that cough you have."

Jesper was surprised by Klaus's kindness and slowly took the cup into his own hands, though it was a little difficult to raise his left arm too high. Klaus waited patiently as Jesper took a long sip. The kid hummed, closing his eyes at its warmth. He took the cup away from his lips, lifting it and tilting his head a little while looking Klaus in the face.

"O-oh, it's just chamomile. My... it's an old recipe," he responded. Jesper nodded before taking another long sip as if to say;

It's really good!

Klaus chuckled. "I'm glad you like it." He waited again for Jesper to move the cup away from his mouth before intervening. "Kid, do you think you can tell me more about what happened? I know it... must be hard. But I'd like to know. Maybe I can help you."

Jesper froze at this, staring directly into his cup. He moved to place it on the small end table before grabbing his pen once again and starting to write. Klaus took a look at the neat words being scribbled onto the page.

I don't know who they are. I mean, I've seen them before. Around town. But they've never approached me. I didn't know they had a problem.

"Did you do anything to set them off?" Klaus questioned gently. "Anything that you can think of, at least?"

Jesper thought about this for a moment, then started writing. I don't think they like the fact that I'm here.

"Why you, in particular?"

Jesper gave the woodsman a dry look like he should know the answer to that question already. It surprised Klaus. Jesper wrote;

Nobody likes the fact that I'm here. Nobody likes me.

Klaus paused at this, too stunned to speak at first. Jesper sniffled.

They shouldn't like me. I get it. I'm not... a very good person.

"That's nonsense, Jesper," Klaus broke in, noticing just how much the kid's hands had started shaking again. He was growing upset. "You don't deserve this sort of treatment, no matter what you might think of yourself."

Jesper averted his gaze, lips pressed shut. Klaus thought so something.

"Do you know how to sign?"

The postman perked up at that, turning back to face Klaus, his eyes shining with surprise.

"I can understand it," the old woodsman continued. "It might be easier for you, especially since writing can really strain your wrists."

Jesper seemed to be frozen in shock. Part of him was looking at Klaus as if the woodsman were making a joke, but the other part of him seemed to believe the words he was speaking. Slowly, he brought his hands up, and started signing;

I usually don't ask. A lot of people here can't understand.

Klaus nodded. "Yes, I know. It can be difficult."

Yeah. How did you learn?

"My wife taught me. Her mother was deaf, so we communicated with her that way."

Jesper smiled a little at that. Cool. You've been too kind to me.

Klaus shook his head. "Look, kid, I admit, you were hard to stand at times. But I didn't know you. I had no place to judge, and neither does anyone else. Especially some low-life Ellingboes who always resort to violence. I think you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." The old woodsman paused, weighing his words. "Speaking of which, where were you when this happened, Jesp?"

The postman thought for a moment before answering. I think I was just outside of the school. Well, not school. The fish place. Where Alva works.

Klaus's eyebrows knitted with worry. "You... came all the way up here? Jesper, do you know how long of a trip it takes to get here from town?"

Jesper nodded, his eyes tired. I... you are the only person who seems to tolerate me. Even though I'll admit, we don't see each other too often. I only knew you lived up here because of the map I have in my office. He paused, an audible sigh escaping his lips. You never gave me any dirty looks or called me names. I was warming up to Alva whenever she yelled at me for never talking. I can't get too mad at her, though. I can be... pretty insufferable.

"You aren't," Klaus assured the boy. "You're just a kid, Jesp. It's a wonder how you got mixed up in this place, anyways."

Those words seemed to stir up something in Jesper's chest because his face grew red and his shoulders stiffened. I didn't want to come here.

Klaus raised his eyebrows in fake surprise. "Oh, no kidding."

Jesper huffed, though the ghost of a smile spread across his lips. Yeah, I... My dad's actually the Postmaster General back home. It's pretty much his whole identity. Ever since I was a kid, I was sort of pressured to follow in his footsteps. My mom was the only person who told me otherwise, but... you know, she died when I was young. I didn't have her influence anymore, and so I became more... I don't know... controlled? He paused, running a hand through his hair. Don't get me wrong, there were some parts of my life that were great. I never had to worry about money, because my dad pretty much had all of it. I got a lot of fancy things, and most everything was tended to without me having to worry about it.

The woodsman raised an eyebrow patiently, silently prodding Jesper to continue. The postman's eyes shone worriedly, but he did so.

The thing is... my dad... likes to do things his way. He comes off all proud and respectful, but- Jesper's eyebrows pinched together and he clenched his jaw. I couldn't really talk. I... no matter what I said, he would explode. I can't stand yelling or loud noises, it just breaks me down. So, I developed this... habit. It eventually became easier to just not talk. My dad seemed happier because of it, anyway, but he still sent me here to... you know... teach me a lesson.

"A lesson?"

A 'wake-up call' he said. Which, in hindsight, I know I needed it. I just wish... things were different, you know? Like, maybe I could've chosen a future for myself and... avoided the whole parental pressure situation.

For a moment, Klaus could do nothing but stare at the boy in shock. He could understand wanting to discipline your spoiled child by teaching him some morals and values, but causing long-term trauma? Making him believe it was safer to just stay silent? Forcing him into a life he didn't even know if he wanted? Those things weren't fair. It took a moment for the woodsman to realize that tears were forming in Jesper's eyes. He reached over to place a hand on the boy's shoulder. Jesper looked away, clearly embarrassed as he quickly wiped his eyes.

"You're a good kid, Jesper. Really." Giving the kid a solemn smile, he added, "I'm very sorry."