Jack remains standing feeling at the fabric for a moment while Eliot explains. "Huh. Synthetics." He's not entirely sure what that means, but he's too caught up on the idea that anyone running somewhere might need special pants in order to accomplish it that the rest of Eliot's explanation washes over him without him absorbing much of the information at all. He is, at least, content to leave the thing behind and head to a place where they might find something more familiar.

"A coat won't make much sense until I know what it's meant to go over." He glances at Eliot's shirt and can see how closely the arms are cut compared to his own shirt's much roomier sleeves. He looks down at where his embroidered cuffs poke out like improvised ruffles from the wide cuffs of his coat, adjusts one, then looks back up. "I fear my current shirt could present some problems. I suppose now it's something of a museum piece." He sighs, a brief recognition of how he himself is something of a museum piece here, then directs a smirk in Eliot's direction as they walk. "I should sell it at auction." He holds out one of his arms, as if putting the sleeve of his coat and the shirt beneath it on display. "Authentic early 18th century linen shirt, once owned by pirate captain Jack Rackham. Very rare."