Zechariah had half a damned mind to agree with Alice’s scummy husband, just for the chance of getting away alive.

In the adrenaline of the moment, he responded pathetically to the soothing, paternal voice of a doctor (that doctor), and lowered bloodied, bejeweled hands from his face. His eyes were wide with panic, and his face was flecked with blood … but his nose was not bleeding. He unbuttoned the sleeve of his more sore arm. It had been a deep enough beating for a bruise to already rapidly form, but to the eye it didn’t look especially bad [yet].

He flinched at Benjamin’s accusations. Kept his eyes off the other known sodomites in the crowd, instead raising his chin in defiance at his attacker. Was this how Zechariah went to prison?

“Thank you,” he whispered to Wells, gaze cautious. “You should – go. You should go.”

He may not have liked Wells, but no one deserved the fate of a trialed sodomite.

His gaze flickered up at the sound of handcuffs, then closed in disappointment at Elijah’s reluctance.