"It's like jail for everyone. Can't get out, can't go home. It's worse than a jail because breaking out wouldn't do any good." He caught the bitterness in his tone and fell quiet, hands balling tighter in his jacket pockets, jaw set. The entire thing pissed Eliot off and anyone he could hold responsible was already dead.
"What'd be nice is making an escape back to our time." He caught himself, then corrected. "Our times. But right now that doesn't look like it's going to happen." And each day that passed fed that frustration.