He watches the other man, taking in the robes, the way he moves with such ease, and he thinks of Connor. So much the same as he was, and yet so different, but knowing that he's not alone, he's acutely aware of of each person he meets. Now not only looking for those that might well be templars but seeing how many of them they've brought to this place.

Reaching up to push back the "hoodie" - brilliantly thought up name there with no imagination - Jacob shifts up onto his feet. Moving easily, drawing his legs up and then pushing himself up into a crouch. Pushing to his full height - such as it was - and then leaning casually back against the chimney.

"Falling is an art," he admits with a chuckle, finding it amusing to speak the truth, even if not clearly. "Though I suppose the distance isn't that much," he says, looking over the edge as if for the first time and shrugging.

Though his gaze lifts back to Altair with a grin. "Not but a week, I guess it's been. Definitely not long enough to find nifty robes," he says, gesturing at him with one hand. "An interesting look. Memorable."