The first time Killian Jones lays his eyes upon Emma Swan,she's bursting in through his front door like a hurricane.

She doesn't even see him standing there, practically frozenin the middle of his living room, halfway to the couch and clutching his mug oftea so tightly that he's sure his knuckles have adopted a paler colour now. Heprobably looks like an idiot in his sweatpants and Batman t-shirt, and it takeshim a few seconds to tear his mind away from how she shakes her curly golden hair out, after tugging a light grey beanie off her head, to realize that she's speaking. Or maybe the right term is muttering exasperatedly.

"God, David, do you have any idea how hard it was to find this place, why the hell – oh," she pauses when she finally lifts her head up and meets his gaze. His breath hitches because he was not expecting her eyes to be so green. "You…you're not David."

It takes him a brief moment to piece together his thoughts, following which he offers her a small nonchalant smile. "Afraid not, love," he manages to say as normally as he possibly can. Because, really, she is bloody beautiful and he feels like he's just been hit by a freight train and all the wind has been knocked out of him and hold on a second – "Did you say David? As in, David Nolan?"

She eyes him warily, and gives him a hesitant nod which he finds amusing because he's not the one that just burst into a stranger's apartment with gumption akin to something of a serial killer. His lips quirk up a tad higher at the thought and he shuffles towards the coffee table to his right to place his mug down before he does something stupid like get distracted by her high cheekbones and drop his hot beverage all over himself. That would be a great way to make an impression.

When he looks back up at her, she's still observing him as if he's about to pounce on her. Perhaps if the circumstances were different and she was willing, he would. But, this was not the time to think about that.

"He's my neighbour, lives across from me," he saunters up to her and extends a hand as he flashes her his most dashing grin, "Killian Jones."

It takes her a moment to respond with a sheepish "Oh God, I'm so sorry" with her eyelashes fluttering against her slowly reddening cheeks, and he swears his heart stops. She places her hand in his and locks her eyes with his, "I'm – "

"Emma?"

The third voice wafts between them from across the hall and she tears her gaze from his, immediately turning. Killian stifles a groan at the interruption and cranes his neck slightly to find David standing in his own doorway with a rather confused expression on his face.

He feels the warmth suddenly leave his hand and realizes that the gorgeous lass – Emma – is bolting towards his tall blonde neighbour and wrapping him in a tight hug. A tinge of jealousy passes through his nerves but he snaps himself out of it, mentally chastising himself for feeling possessive over a woman that he's literally just met. Anyway, it's not as if she's David's girlfriend. He knows David's girlfriend; Mary Margaret Blanchard, the pixie-haired brunette who teaches elementary school kids – the one who he's met countless times during his many hangouts with Dave. Hangouts which, obviously, did not include mentioning his friend's acquaintance with a stunning blonde.

"Killian," David's voice jolts him out of his thoughts, "I see you've met Emma Swan." Swan, he likes that. It suits her somehow.

"To an extent, yes. Although I'm still uncertain as to what she was doing in my apartment," he chuckles as he focuses his eyes on her.

She sucks her lower lip in between her teeth and sighs. "I thought David said 4C, not 4D."

She look so embarrassed and small in the harsh hallway lighting and something in his heart swells when he notices that glint of sadness in her eyes that he hadn't caught up till now.

"All's well, lass, it was an honest mistake," he offers lightly. "Dave's never mentioned you, how do you two know each other?" He tilts his head towards his friend.

"Actually, Emma here is my adoptive sister," David grins down at her.

"Wait – what? So much for being your best mate," he huffs, "Leaving out the fact that you had a sibling all along."

David lets out a loud laugh, no doubt amused by what he himself has coined as Killian's-wounded-puppy-impression. "Apologies, mate, I guess it never came up."

He can't really blame David for that one. Other than the occasional drunken heart-to-heart, the two of them had barely had any conversations on a personal level. Killian had told him about why he'd moved to the States but he'd only touched on the surface of his past, while David had shared his harsh upbringing as a neglected son and his occasional hurdle with Mary Margaret. The topic of siblings had never waded its way into their discussions. But they did speak of their schedules often and he knew when David's mother or Mary Margaret's parents (his future-in-laws, Killian teased him) were to visit, so not even mentioning the fact that his adoptive sister would be dropping by seemed a little off. Unless, it was spur of the moment. Unless, something distressful had caused it. It would certainly provide a mild explanation for the beast of sadness that seemed to be welled up inside of her.

"Emma, you're probably tired," David says softly, "I'll make you something to eat and then you can rest, alright?"

"Geez, okay, Dad," she heaves out a sigh in mock annoyance but she's still smiling at her brother. David turns around to walk into his flat, shouting a "See you later, Jones," over his shoulder, leaving the two out in the hallway alone.

He realizes he's staring at her (again) when she looks over at him and raises an eyebrow. He finds it utterly endearing how she can shift her personality in mere seconds; he's always loved a challenge and something tells him that Emma Swan is nothing short of one.

"Well, I better get inside before David decides to finish all that food without me."

"If that ever happens, my door is open for you, love. As you have already demonstrated, in fact," he says gesturing towards his apartment with a wave of his hand.

He sees her cheeks once again colouring into a rosier hue and plasters on a smug grin at the faint smile she offers him.

"Bye, Jones."

"Goodnight, Swan."

And with that, the door in front of him shuts, the small hallway feeling infinitely larger and emptier without her presence. He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a heavy breath. Emma Swan, he repeats her name in his head. He's known her for a total of fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes and she's already nestled firmly in his mind. He glances at his neighbour's door once more before shutting himself inside his own apartment, praying to some higher power that she'll still be there in the morning.