"I don't know is 'sew' is the right word," Jack says. He's a prince. He's never sewn anything in his life. Even on the front, he had one of his men who knew how to fix tears in the uniforms. He pulls the sleeve up and shows off the ribbon and folded leather, just tied into place rather than stitched. The steak knife goes back inside, a rough fit. "But I could probably track something down. Why, you think you can escape with a needle?"