To The Past And Back Again 3

There wasn't much of a difference in his appearance, really, from the style of Victorian clothing he was going to be seeing. As far as he was concerned, he looked the same as he had getting here - same brown hair, same build, same(ish) clothes. Indeed, he'd brought a few old wardrobe pieces into his future, and the yellowing sleeves were no problem. He'd dressed in a white (or, rather, cream-colored now) tunic, with a brown vest overtop, switching out his customary comfortable pants with some more Victorian-era duds.
He cast a glance in the glass window and allowed himself a small stab of nostalgia. Damien only looked slightly older than the day he got here. Returning to his old workshop...
The kid was already at the store, looking around with what Damien could only assume was trepidation. He made no sound, of course - only put up a lazy hand to signal his presence.

Not being new to this type of thing, Damien remained relaxed and impassive, cracking his knuckles and stretching out a bit. As far as he knew, it wasn't really necessary but damned if he wasn't stuck in his old traditions at least a bit.
"Dealt with it before," he grumbled to the kid. Bit of an understatement. "Ready."
Then again - he had always been inside of a machine between the rips in time. Who knew how much radiation he could be exposed to, or how many kilometres per hour he would go uninhibited by harnesses? He had half a mind to grab his notebook and record whatever happened - but he had no time before the scenery around him melted into what could only be described as a watercolour painter's nightmare. Colours and structures met, blending together and melting, swirling until they stabilized again into a very recognizable landscape.

Old London.

Immediately he loosened the drawstring on his shoulder bag and dug around, pulling out his journal and sketching a quick but meticulous visual of what he'd just seen.

"Whatcha think -"

He held up a finger, obviously signalling for Lucan to be quiet as he jotted down the last of his notes.

"Seen better."

Damien wasn't really amazed by the concept of a time jump - obviously, it was a bit passé for him - but the method with which he'd chosen to travel was of some interest at least. This generation wasn't supposed to know time travel was possible until... maybe the 2100s? Oh, they'd have the idea of course, but not the real thing.

Or so Damien thought. This new way of seeing it had at least informed Damien about the nature of the outside of the time-travel circuit. Once he had finished his notes, Damien stuck them back into his bag and sighed, looking up at the sky. He hadn't imagined wanting to come back...

"Even if you've time travelled before, I bet you never saw it like that."

Damien only showed he heard him via a nod. They'd landed in a very familiar part of Old London - the one that, if he remembered correctly, was closest to his old apartment.

"Somewhere around here... my old work. I left something vital here."

He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of his old house. "Any chance of meeting my former self?"

He was only half-joking.

Damien had to wonder for a second at the fact that Lucan couldn't meet himself in different time periods. Damien himself had heard horror stories of people encountering themselves in his timeline and the lengths they took to not have it happen again, or the consequences of such a thing. How was it possible? Perhaps it was the difference in timeline, or maybe in the mechanics of Lucan's biology. Heritage, perhaps, could also be a factor. Nevertheless, if what Lucan was saying were true, then Damien could fetch so many things from his old work lab - his wedding bands. His automaton blueprints. Everything he'd taken with him...

His steps towards his old apartment quickened as he tried to force that thought out of his head, a scowl making its way onto his face.

"Comin'?"