Their revolution hadn't arrived yet. But such things took time of course. And the Whitby people were hard to convince. Most just wanted to mind their own business and go on with their day. Surely that only demonstrated his point. They were so oppressed that they didn't realize they were oppressed. So the fact that they didn't acknowledge that they were oppressed or didn't want to change anything about it, proved that they were in fact oppressed. And Jacob had devoted his life to changing that. 

His mother kept writing to him, asking when he would go back to university. His father had offered to let him take over the factory already, if he didn't like university. But Jacob was here, doing the things that really mattered. He just hoped his father wouldn't stop sending him money.

Today was market day, and Jacob was in the market, trying to talk to people to test the waters and possibly invite them to their meetings. Naively, he and his comrades had started out with pamphlets and posters. But they had soon realized that the only use the older members of the working classes had for these was to wipe their backsides with them. Never mind. Talking to people helped them distinguish comrade from foe more easily anyway.

Jacob was dressed simply, almost like a working class man, except his clothes actually fitted him and weren't as worn. He had a red scarf around his neck in place of a tie. The young man looked around, searching for the next approachable target.

Occassionally, there were days when Saoirse didn't have revolution and the oppression of the proletariat on her mind. Today was one of those days. Instead of angrily writing semi-shitty poetry about marxism like she usually did, she was actually just in the market, trying to finish the chore that was buying things. 

She wandered somewhat aimlessly through the street, looking for the things she intended to buy, so that she can get this over with and be able to do the things she actually wanted to do. There was little on her mind except that, and as such she was almost painfully inperceptive about things that did not immediately affect her current goals. With an inaudible sigh of frustration, Saoirse slowed down a bit, taking her precious time with walking.

Jacob, on the other hand, was suddenly very perceptive. He did occasionally stop thinking about revolution and changing the world, to admire the beauty of 'the fairer sex'. He walked over and pretended to step in her way, see her only the last moment, and step out of her way with a rather dramatic, "Oh, I do apologize, miss."

If there was one thing that suddenly made Saoirse ten times more perceptive, it was that. She stopped walking for a moment in a brief moment of surprise, before nodding to the man in acknowledgement. "Apology accepted, sir," she said quite matter-of-factly, very ready and eager to get back on track.

Wait, wait, wait. Jacob gave her his most flattering smile. She was tall, he realized now that he was close to her. Taller than he. But nice to look at all the same. "What brings a young lady like yourself out all alone?"

Yeah, definitely flattering.

Oh, so he was one of those guys. Saoirse tried to remain as polite as she possibly could in this situation. "I am at the market. I think you can make your own assumptions from that," she explained, trying to keep her sentences relatively short, because ugh she doesn't want to talk with random men who flirt with her.

Clearly playing hard to get. "Can I help you carry anything, miss?" Gallantry still existed after all.

"I can manage just fine on my own, thank you," Saoirse tried to deflect the offer. She did not have the patience for this.

Pff. Stuck up. Jacob thought. "As you wish, miss." He tapped his cap to her.

Saoirse seemed so incredibly relieved as soon as she was hoping that the man would be gone soon. "I do wish so, actually," she informed the man in an almost-smug, almost-cheerful way. "thank you very much, sir."