Victor had been quite contentedly watering his garden outside of the house that had been built for himself and Elle, a deliberate distance away from the other houses that the rest of the people from their world lived in--but (unfortunately) close enough in order to allow Elle to visit them regularly.
Still, something made him look up from his rose bushes and frown at the distance. He set down his shears and fingered his waistline where he hid his guns as he set off to go look into whatever made his hackles raised.
There, beyond the bushes, he found a sight that first made his eyes widen in surprise (though, in all honesty, he wasn't particularly concerned) and then narrow in suspicion.
It was Jude, yes, he recognized him instantly, but a Jude just a little bit taller than the one he'd come to know here, with wild hair and a lab coat that was much more like the one he had first known in his own time. Much more importantly, however, and something that would concern probably anyone else who looked at this new person, were the clear injuries--though how extensive, and how recent, he couldn't tell, half-hidden as they were by Jude's layers.
"...Hmph. Annoying." For him of all people to have to deal with this...
Raising his voice, he called, "--Are you alright?" Whether he cared or not, he had to put the question out there. Depending on the answer, he could just leave this problem for others to deal with and get back to his garden.
It hurt. He didn’t know where he was. He was mostly used to that. His hand gripped the lower side of his abdomen, fingers digging— but it felt like a phantom pain. The rest of him was also hurting, but at least he could walk. Slowly, limping. Breathe. He smelled like blood and dirt, but it seemed like he’d gotten through the worst of it. Lately, just being seen with him could be dangerous for the other party… but it usually took them a while to understand that.
And he was always relieved if they had a chance to realize.
To prevent further regrets, he’d went alone. Someone always wanted him gone, or worse, and took advantage of that ( whether they’d be crying or laughing, he could never fix it ). Was it Exodus again? They were probably wondering why he hadn’t given up yet.
He stopped along with the thoughts, staring ahead— the world was still blurry, but was… wrong. There was greenery…? A house. It smelled… different. Nice? That didn’t… make sense.
There was also… somebody………
Wha…t? Why…? Even though he’d asked those words before, they refused to come out. It didn’t make sense. His chest constricted— a hallucination? The man perfectly dressed for a funeral ( protected by his mask—— ) blurred in and out, image uneven like his breathing. This man should’ve been—… No, he was dead, he was killed before everything had become so much worse, if only they hadn’t let it end this way—
Ah. That meant that he was dead too now, right? Somehow.
But I didn’t die, I’m— still——
"….!!"Sharp pain mixed with dirt. His legs were suddenly lead, and they took him to the ground for his stubborn resilience. He was always good at fighting it and pushing his limits. He only let the crash happen when he was alone, somewhere familiar and safe temporarily.
He’d made a mistake. Even as he passed out, he heard the man’s voice, managing to understand something.
It sounded concerned. It was the same voice.
Now Victor could see that--Jude--was also unsteady on his feet. Those injuries were definitely no simple matter then. Not only that, but it appeared he recognized him, something even those other people from approximately the same time didn't.
Well, it was either good in the sense that he didn't have to explain... or bad in the sense that he already knew.
Still, while he was asking how Jude was, Jude went down, legs dropping him unceremoniously to the dirt, despite how obviously he tried to fight it.
Whether Jude didn't want to leave himself in a vulnerable position in Victor's care or he was simply just being a stubborn fool, who could say.
He sighed, loud and annoyed, but then quickly moved forward to heave the boy up onto his shoulder and carry him into the house.
He deposited him (none-too-gently, in all honesty) onto his bed and quickly moved to strip him, trying to figure out just how badly he was injured. Meanwhile, he put a call in to ask for help from any healers, but unfortunately they were either very busy or too far away to help at this time.
"...You just had to choose to land near me of all people," he muttered, annoyed. "I've never had much in the way of healing artes."
Either way, he'd try to clean and dress the wounds as best he could while waiting for a healer to be available (and take this mess off his hands) and, if he still had time before Jude came to, start working on an invigorating and healing meal, since he would clearly need it.
(He half-considered burning the damaged clothes, just to let out some of his irritation at this situation... but ultimately decided against it and instead made plans to wash and repair them if he had time. No... he would be the perfect host so as to not invite complaints--and hopefully this unwelcome guest would be out of his hands soon.)