"Good man," Adam said, taking the needle without hesitation as he rolled up his sleeve. This wasn't a complicated matter. It only looked like Noah had broken his neck. He had some other abrasions as well that were causing the pool of blood around him, but nothing seriously enough that it couldn't be fixed. Even the death bit. Drawing the needle full of his own blood, Adam glanced back at Peter with a slight smirk. "He's going to have one hell of a hangover when he comes to. You might want to leave a note so he'll know why he's in the middle of the park, sleeping next to a puddle of vomit, with no shoes on. He's not likely to remember."
Because, God, had he been there and done that. Of course, it wasn't so much a park as it was a random field in a random rural area in a random part of London or Japan. There had been a lot of those in the 1600s.
"All right, old boy," Adam said, shifting his attention and he rolled back Noah's sleeve and injected his arm with the syringe. "Time to get up."