"My God! Is that a grey hair?!" Hook exclaimed as he pulled a hair from his jacket sleeve.
"Well Sir, you certainly have quite a lot of them," Smee said cheerily, setting the silverware on the table.
"I do?" Hook faltered, something akin to panic in his eyes. "I don't remember having any grey hairs…"
"Sir, you don't remember too much of anything anymore," Smee replied.
"Smee, how old am I?" Hook asked blankly. His expression was grim.
"You're sixty-four, Captain. And looking fantastic," Smee gave a thumbs up.
"Sixty-four?" Captain Hook paled. "I'm old…" he mumbled.
"You're not old! Just experienced," Smee mused, smiling and serving up fried eggs and bacon. He set a juice box on the table beside the plate. Hook stared at the plate with a blank expression. The eggs and bacon were shaped like a smiley face.
"Smee, what in the name of Davvey Jones is this?"
"Eggs and bacon, Captain. It's your breakfast."
"Why are the eggs smiling at me?"
"Because they're sunny-side up!" Smee said, giggling very girlishly.
"A juice box, Smee?" Hook frowned.
"It's sugar free. You have diabetes you know," He replied. Hook groaned.
"Smee, where is Pan? What is he doing?"
"Gee Sir, I don't know. We haven't been to Neverland in so long…" Smee replied, scratching his forehead.
"Wait, where are we then?" Hook looked around. It still looked like the bridge of the Jolly Roger, but there were crayon drawings hanging on the walls and there was a bookshelf he didn't remember.
"We're in the London Retirement Home. Don't you remember when you moved in here? After the Jolly Roger sank?"
"S-sank? My ship sank?" He was stunned.
"Sorry to say it did. It got caught in a storm and crashed into some rocks."
"I'm living in a retirement home?" Hook was dazed.
"Yes," Smee was used to days like this. Hook never seemed to remember what happened. Smee went about preparing some macaroni art, Hook's activity for the day.
"Where are the others?"
"What others?"
"The rest of the crew, you idiot!"
"Well, You shot Noodler. Bill Jukes became a tattoo artist, Paul just won the Stanley Cup, Chris the Lisp just graduated from medical school, and Tom D. is a singer in a famous rock band. I don't know about the rest."
"Great, the underlings are famous and I get shoved into a retirement home. How am I supposed to compare to a rock star?" Hook shook his head and twirled his fork angrily. He lifted his right arm from under the table to scratch his shoulder. His hook was gone. "Smee, where is my hook?"
"Sorry Captain, your hook has been confiscated. The staff is worried you might hurt yourself."
"Bloody codfish! I'm not going to hurt myself! I've had that thing for years and never hurt myself!"
"Actually, Sir, you almost stabbed a hole in your cheek by accident a couple of months ago."
"Bloody hell. This just isn't fair."
"C'est la vie."