Try the Militia Hunters

With tentative footsteps, feeling highly conscious of ragged and soiled state, Jessica knocked on the door. There was a pensive silence, and then the light sound of oiled mechanics and wheels in short bursts. The door opened, and Jessica found herself at the other end of a blunderbuss. Large eyed, Jessica froze, as the door opened further, to reveal a wheelchair bound elderly man, almost foppish looking in their old-style dress.

But a gun was a gun. Jessica continued her mute freeze as the old man regarded her fierce eyes, looking her up and down, his gaze bringing a blush to her face. With a snort he opened the door further "Come in lass, nothing beastly would knock or so readily have a gun aimed at them." His wheelchair squeaked as he moved further in. The air here was moldy, the smell of books kept so close to the ocean and poorly maintained. Stronger than that smell was the smell of gunpowder. The old man kept his back to her. "There should be some clothes around here." The room was dim, with bookshelves and apparatus' scattered on the tables. Sure enough, there was a coat hanging near the door, and a pair of discarded trousers kicked under a table. Men were such messes when they didn't care. The old man was strangely silent, his gaze away from her not shaking, so Jessica decided to change on the spot, having not been offered any further privacy and feeling to meek to raise the question.
She first stripped herself of the remaining of her shirt and cowl, slathered in too many foul fluids, they were beyond saving. She then donned the jacket. It was too large, hiding her hands within the sleeves, but it was better than before. The old man still seemed to not react. But she could hear his breath now. Poor bloke might be suffering from the ashen plague. She then shimmied off her tattered skirt, taking a moment to wipe the remaining oozing fluids from her womanhood, her blush deepening as she did so. Then she spied it. A mirror, across the room, and the old man's gaze fixed on her, with his hand wrapped around his cock. Their eyes met.
"Stop there lass." His words dripped with authority. Jessica panicked. The man had a gun, and she felt some responsibility for the kindness she had shown her, but feared his other intentions. There was another door as well across from her, which would continue her quest home forward at least. but that would mean braving the night again. A third thought dripped in as well, tentative, but she'd be much safer in the night if she had a gun as well...