It's 1888, you're currently walking through the streets of London. You note that the bell tower strikes precisely at midnight. While surveying the cobblestone roads, you hear the 'clicks' of horse hooves, startling you. "Curse those Jack the Ripper, headlines", you think to yourself, feeling a chill run up your spine as you watch the man slowly walk behind you, shadowing your footsteps, his intentions clear.

As you realize that he's been following you for the last four blocks, a sudden rush of adrenaline kicks in, and you sprint to the nearest flat banging on the door furiously. After a short moment, an obviously groggy man approaches his second story window, muttering, "Mmgh... Y-yes?... May I-"

He looks around in growing confusion before realizing who the man is, instantly connecting the dots as he dashes to the front door, yanking you inside and gasping sharply as he utters, "Are you... Bloody Hell... Are you alright?" He panted, smoothing out his white and blue striped pajamas set.

You were shaking a bit as you calmed down and tried to catch your breath as your Bronchitis worked against you more then it should've. You nodded softly and he got you to sit down as he made some tea for you and himself. When he gave it to you, your hands were still shaking.

"What's your name?" Pendleton asks.