Owen stared a moment, taking in the jumper, the glasses, the neatly combed hair, then groaned. "Oh, bloody hell." Well, that answered two questions he hadn't asked. Not Foxhole, not across the bridge. At least he had that much. But certainly not where he was going.
"What's with the glasses and the jumper?" He gestured vaguely at... the other him, trying hard not to grimace too much. He really had thought he'd left that all behind, when he'd left home.