As the ghoul lunges, Jack surges towards it instead of away, tackling it to the ground. It takes some effort to scramble up its twisted body, mangled and powerful and relentless, but Jack doesn't react to that. He grunts, ducking when the ghoul takes another swing at his head, wheezes when the creature manages to twist so he's pinning Jack to the ground, makes a dissatisfied noise when he slams his fist into the ghoul's temple over and over again until noxious ichor is oozing from cracks in skin and skull to stain his fingers.

Not once, however, does Jack cry out. Not once does he scream.

Only when he manages to plunge his fist halfway into the creature's face does he manage to shove it off of him with a groan while its seemingly disoriented. While punching the ghoul, he'd managed to get his hand between their bodies and wrap his fist around the pocketwatch in his waistcoat pocket--which had a silver chain.

Staggering to his feet, he held the watch up and wrapped the chain around his fist to keep tight hold of it.

"Silver! Now what?"