Philip frowned, slapping the old man's hand out of his face. He had to admit it seemed impossible for Lance to have drawn up the picture of Jayce on their way up, but for now it seemed the only possible explanation. He looked at Jayce, who was at the very least a little sceptical. When he heard about his memory loss though, he mostly felt like pulling the guy close and giving him a comforting hug. However, Lance was speaking again:
“I’m sorry for losing my composure, I was excited by the prospect of having the chosen one in our midst and forgot that it was going to fall to me to educate him on who he was and what kind of power he possesses. I know you don’t hold any stock in the legends of the dragon mages, and you think it’s all just a bunch of nonsense, but there was a time when humanity thought the same of vampires, now look at us. We cower in fear of them, is really so wrong to believe there is a way to destroy them? To fight back? Is it so wrong to have faith?”
He wanted to say yes, yes it was. Faith was debilitating, it let people believe they could sit back and wait for problems to fix themselves. It took the action out of those who had the ability to fight back. But the glimmer of hope in Jayce's eyes, that he might not be thrown into this world by chance, might have a purpose although his life had been turned upside down, that kept him quiet. "You know very well what I think about faith," he mumbled. "I'm having a bath."
With that, he left Jayce in Lance's hands for a while as he washed the paint off his face, and changed into a simpler costume.
Later, as evening fell, he joined the other two by the fire where Jayce was finally provided with the meal he'd been promised. Lance was explaining the history of something, but Philip hardly paid attention as he ate. Once he finished the meal, he sat working on a spear he'd started before leaving on the hunt earlier that day. He picked up on Lance talking about the flare, and the way people had subdued the power of lightning to their will some eighty years before.
“Sounds interesting. Although we called it electricity, not the power of lightning,” Jayce said. Philip looked up, meeting his eyes over the flames of the fire. Though he still couldn't see how, he supposed some of it might be true. The way Jayce acted, it had to be some sort of complicated mental illness or he was really from the past. He couldn't think of anyone who'd make up a word like 'electricity', especially not someone not in possession of all their faculties.
“We’ll work on that tomorrow, I must rest and prepare mentally to help you.”
"The old man needs his beauty sleep," Philip mumbled, then looked up and said aloud, "Goodnight, Lance."
And then Jayce was next to him, and suddenly the fire seemed a little warmer than before– particularly on his face. He cleared his throat, putting the spear aside so the two could talk.
“What do you think about all this? Is any of this real, is any of it possible? Maybe I’m just some nutcase imagining this whole thing. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and none of this will be real, just a dream, a sick, twisted, gut wrenching dream. Part of me hopes it is.”
Philip didn't. He wished very much for Jayce to be real, but he knew he couldn't even imagine how this entire ordeal must be to him. Sick, twisted and gut wrenching was a good summary, probably.
He shrugged. "Like Lance says, before the flare they didn't believe in vampires, and that didn't exactly work out for them. I don't think you're a nutcase though, if that helps," he smiled at him. "I don't know how to explain it. Lance has always been talking about that order, telling us stories about how the Chosen one is going to free us. It's great when you're a kid but at some point I think you have to grow up, you know? But then you're here, and I can't explain how."
He sighed, shaking his head. As he looked up, he found Jayce looking straight at him. He swallowed.
“Well, maybe not all of it. So, where am I sleeping tonight?”
"Uh, well, you could sleep at my place? I mean if you want. We could probably find somewhere else if you'd prefer, but I mean it's not much but my place is pretty comfortable. It's got," he tried to think of what comforts Jayce would have been used to in his time, but his mind went blank. "Furniture," he finished weakly.
He picked up the spear, fighting the blush creeping across his face again. "Maybe I should just show you."