Sometimes Jess Brightwell made it too easy for Raven to pick on him.

Glancing over her shoulder, she paused in her search to slot the key into a keyhole. Eyebrow arched, she looked at him as though he'd grown a second head.

After a moment, where he didn't add on anything or even laugh, she asked, "What work?" And found herself genuinely curious.

All she knew of Jess was that he spoke with an accent that was strange yet familiar, he was afraid of a library, he knew things she didn't, lived somewhere in the past, and he seemed a bit like a nerd. Despite being able to paint a better picture of him than most of the people in this town, she still didn't know him. Was he any good at anything? Putting broken clocks together? Reading? Sewing?

He was good at walking, and had warm hands, but that was all she knew of his skill set.