I Don't Really Drink
She felt strange, uncomfortable; the atmosphere was too different for her liking. The auburn hair elaborately constructed by Ruby was already falling out past her shoulders, corresponding with the tight teal knee-high dress that she had been forced into.
You need to get out more, Belle, Ruby and Snow had firmly told her. Belle felt fine with her books, the comforting vintage music that floated out the small radio, but nobody else really understood that it reminded her of the times with her mother. Here, it was dark and cold and lonely, and loud rock songs pumped into the people dancing, making Belle feel like a lion trapped inside a cage. Desperate to find somewhere quieter, she wove her way through the crowd and found herself at the bar.
She didn't really know what to do; she had been in Storybrooke for a while, but still didn't really know what any of the drinks were. But the alternative was to head back into the crowd, so she sat down awkwardly on one of the rickety wooden stools. The bartender was an unknown man from the Rabbit Hole, and there was only one other guy slouching onto the bar two seats away from her. After the bartender had served him his drink he looked in Belle's direction.
"What would you like, honey?" Belle's nervous expression seems to amuse the mysterious stranger, who for some reason was looking at her.
"Uh, vodka, please?" Belle stuttered the only drink she even thought was alcoholic.
"Coming right up."
Belle shifted uneasily. What was she meant to do while she waited? Think? Talk to the stranger? She concentrated on trying to fix her frazzled she continued trying to distract herself while waiting for the drink, her mind wandered. She must have been used to this, this wild life, when she was… When she was Lacey?
Lacey was a girl distant from her current self. Belle didn't really remember her much, except for that she was a drinker, and had a much more dangerous personality. It was so confusing, until Rumple gave her the potion for her memories… She tried to push the thoughts away, like clouds obscuring the sun. She realised that there was a drink sitting in front of her. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. A break, she assumed. Next to her, the sloucher had slid up one stool and was now staring at her.
"What are you waiting for? Bottoms up," he joked. Belle lifted the shot as gracefully as she could, then realised that Lacey would've done if differently. Belle took a rough swig and downed it in one go. There was a small fire in her mouth, not unlike a carnival. She felt stronger. She braced herself to take a good look at the man.
His hair was a ruffled, chocolate brown; his cheerful face shone like a sun, and he wore a black leather jacket. Belle couldn't help but feel drawn to him.
"What's the matter?," he smiled.
"I don't really drink," Belle confessed.
"Well, I can only notice how beautiful you look tonight," he said graciously. He was a charmer.
"My name is Belle," she told him, blushing.
"Well, aren't you a scarlet beauty," he said. "My name is Will."