Great, another rainy day. Emma swan sighed as she rolled over in her bed, sleepily pulling her covers over her body. The sound of the rain pattering on the roof and windows kept her from drifting back to sleep.

It had been raining for the past few weeks, and the rain didn't seem like it would stop anytime within the near future. By this point, everything was soaked - the pavement was constantly wet, and within Emma had grown the sort of chill that gets into your bones. For the most part, Emma didn't mind the rain - but after weeks and weeks of it she'd had enough.

Along with the rain, it didn't help that it was bitterly cold out as well. October had rolled into Storybrooke like a fog, covering everything in a strange sort of haze that seemed to slow the passage of time.

Emma sat up in her bed, slowly wrapping her white duvet around her body, drawing her warmth into her. After building up enough courage, she finally let go of her duvet, and put her feet down on the bare hardwood floors. A shiver ran through her body with this, and she hurried over to the closet to get changed.

She chose out a white knit sweater and slipped it on after pulling on her jeans (and a pair of fuzzy socks), before heading into the kitchen to make herself her morning cup of coffee.

She'd been living in Storybrooke for the past three years now, after one of her cases brought here to the small but charming town. She'd been a bail bonds person for majority of her life, but there was something that drew her to Storybrooke, and so eventually she gave in and made her life here. She had made a couple of friends since her arrival - for her first year in the town she lived with her friend Mary Margaret, but when Mary Margaret ended up getting married, Emma moved out and got an apartment on her own. It was a quaint little apartment, with a view that looked out onto the forest, which was now exploding in vibrant hues of red and orange as the leaves changed with the season. The woman in the apartment below her, Elsa, had become one of her best friends.

She had also gotten a job at the station. She was a sheriff, but seeing as Storybrooke didn't have all that much crime, it mostly just meant loads and loads of paperwork. Oh, and parking tickets, but she hated giving those out. For the past few days, because of the rain, she'd been doing all of her paperwork at her loft.

Emma took two heaping spoonfuls of ground up coffee beans and put them into her coffee maker, pressed the 'brew' button, put a mug under it and waited. Nothing happened.

She checked to see if it was plugged in (it was), and that there was water in it (there was), before opening up the compartment again that the ground up beans were supposed to go into. There appeared to be nothing wrong with that either, but for some reason, when she pressed the 'brew' button once more, nothing happened.

'Shit' Emma swore under her breath. This was the last thing she needed this morning. Now, she had to go out of the house if she wanted her coffee (which, she definitely did - she hadn't gone a day without a cup of coffee first thing in the morning in years). Grudgingly, she went over to the door and pulled on her boots, tied the laces, and then slipped on her warm grey coat, and topped the outfit off with her beanie. She walked out of her apartment, down the four flights of stairs, and prepped herself for the cold before stepping out the door.

Emma yanked open the big, wooden door of the coffee shop, and shivered, before brushing off the raindrops that had settled on her coat. She was completely soaked from head to toe from her walk to the café in the pouring rain.

The café had that sort of early morning bustle about it as most cafés do early on a Tuesday morning. The air was warm and smelled sweetly of coffee and freshly baked goods. Towards the front the baristas were hard at work, concocting all sorts of drinks from lattés to hot chocolates. Across from the counter was a wall of exposed brick, with pictures of coffee and coffee beans hung up onto it. Tables were scattered about the entire café, every one occupied by somebody either busy at work, reading the paper, or chattering with whoever they were with. In fact, the whole café was filled with that sound of indistinct chatter, with a hint of some soft piano music playing in the background.

"What can I get for you?" The question of the barista broke Emma's trance, anchoring her back down to reality.

"Oh uh sorry." Emma glanced up at the menu, getting lost in all the options, before eventually giving in and just ordering a black coffee.

The barista passed Emma the cup of steaming hot liquid, and Emma transferred a handful of change into their hand before making her way over to the other counter to make up her coffee.

She ripped a couple packets of sugar and poured them into her coffee, and then reached over for the milk, only to find someone else was using it.

"Oh, sorry." She heard a voice apologize, and looked up to find the the man who spoke.

He had the most wonderful blue eyes - at least that's the first thing that she noticed - his eyes. They were deep blue, like the colour of the sea. His hair was dark brown, and rested messily on his forehead - it looked at if he'd just gotten out of bed and was yet to be combed.

Emma swallowed, a lump in her throat, still caught up in his gaze.

"Oh uh… that's okay." She murmured before he passed her the milk, giving her a gentle smile along with it. Not wanting to seem creepy, she returned to her coffee, poured a splash of milk into it, gave it a quick stir, and then went to go find a seat.

The café had an area that curved around the back, separate from the rest of the café. One of the walls was made of a grande mahogany bookshelf, two of the other walls were the same exposed brick, and one wall wasn't a wall at all - rather three giant windows that reached all the way from the floor to the ceiling. The rain pelted on the windows, reminding Emma that it was, in fact, still raining (as if her soaking wet jacket would allow her to forget).

She found herself a table next to the bookshelf - the last available seat in the whole café. She figured if she was going to be out of the house to get coffee, she may as well enjoy herself whilst here.

Scanning the bookshelf she pulled out the first book that caught her eye - it had 'The Savior' written across it in big, bold letters. She flipped over the leather bound book and read the back cover.

'Anna's life is everything but extraordinary. Until one day, on her 28th birthday

she makes a wish and the next thing she knows the child she gave up for adoption 10 years ago shows up on her doorstep telling her that she is the savior, and must help him in his attempts to save a town of fairy tale characters who have been yanked from their world and frozen in time - all as part of a curse cast by the evil queen. Will Anna accept her role as the saviour and be able to save the town and everyone in it? Or will the town be cursed and stuck in time forever? And will there be perhaps a hint of romance along the way?

Emma rolled her eyes slightly at the premise, but continued on to read some of the comments from famous authors.

'Unlike anything I've ever read before - thrilling, romantic and dramatic 'The Saviour' keeps you on the edge of your seat at all times, curious to find out what will happen next. I'd definitely recommend this to anyone with a certain taste for adventure.' - A. Hopper

She was almost at the second comment when the sound of someone clearing their throat startled her, ripping her from the book. She glanced up to find the same stranger with the deep blue eyes staring back at her.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but, you don't think it would be possible that I could sit with you, would it? There's not any other empty chairs, I promise I won't say a word." The man said, softly.

For the first time, Emma got a good look at him. He was wearing all dark clothes - a black leather jacket, with a dark blue shirt underneath. He had a slight bit of scruffy facial hair, and his ears were pierced.

"Oh, yeah. For sure." She bit her lip, before quickly returning back to her book to hide her face as her cheeks begun to turn scarlet red.

She wasn't really reading, though she pretended to. He sips his coffee across from her, before he himself pulls a book of the shelf. She attempts not to be so obvious in her glances, as she reads the title of his book. It too is bound in leather, and reads 'The Pirate'. The two of their books appear almost as if they could be paired together, in a series, or perhaps written by the same author.

The man across from her pulls out a notebook from his pocket, rips out a page, and then scribbles something down. Ever so slowly, he returns to the book, and with his other hand, slides the paper across the table to where she is sitting.

It is folded in half when it reaches her, and she shoots him a curious glance before unfolding it to see the message he's written to her scribbled on it.

How's the book? - K

She reads it over once, twice, three times, before looking up to him again. He smiles, and raises one of his eyebrows, before sliding the pen to her.

She takes a moment to think up a response before scribbling it under his writing.

Pretty good thanks, how's yours? - E

Slowly, she folds the paper and slides it back over to him. She pretends to pick up her book and read again, but is watching him as he reads her response and eventually writes his own before sliding the paper back to her.

Good thanks. It's about a pirate. He lives on a boat. What's yours about? How's your coffee? - K

She takes a moment to read his response, before writing her own.

Pirates. That's some scary stuff, huh? Mines about a saviour. And fairy tales. Coffee's good. Yours? - E

It takes the man about five seconds to respond and slide the paper back. They continue their conversation on the piece of paper, continually passing it back and forth in between their reading.

GOod. - K

So… - E

Can I ask your name? - K

Emma. Yours? - E

Kilian. It's sort of old fashioned, I know. - K

Why are we writing instead of talking? - E

I said I wouldn't say a word to you, remember? - K

Well… I won't be mad at you for talking to me. - E

Yes, but I made a promise. Plus, I like your handwriting, and watching you pretend to read. - K

I'm not pretending. - E

Yes you are, or else you wouldn't be staring at me every 3 seconds. - K

… - E

I tell you what, Emma. Tomorrow, my promise to you not to talk to you will no longer stand, since it only really stood for today. Maybe you'd perhaps be interested in meeting me here again? - K

Yeah… I think I'd like that. -E

Good. I'll be here around 9? - K

Sure thing. - E

:) - K

Emma gave a small laugh at the awkwardly drawn smiley face Killian had scribbled onto the (third) piece of paper containing their conversation. She closed up her book, slid it back onto it's spot on the bookshelf, stood up, buttoned up her jacket, grabbed her coffee, gave Killian one last small smile, and then left the café, going back out into the rain.