Belle's welcoming smile grew from polite to pleased as she pulled the front door open and greeted her visitor. "Henry!"

The lad was holding a clipboard with a pen attached. "Good morning, Belle," he said rather formally. "I hope I'm not disturbing your Saturday. I won't take up too much of your time."

She chuckled as she pulled him inside. "Nonsense. We're always glad to see you. Come on in." She closed the door behind him.

"I'm working on a project for civics," he explained, dropping the formality. "We're conducting a poll about the Presidential election. Just five questions. Do you and Grandpa have time to talk to me?"

"Of course. He's in his study. Let's go get him." She led the way through the ambling house. "The election, huh? I'll be interested to hear the results of your poll."

"This is the first national election Storybrooke has ever participated in," Henry said. "It's history-making."

"Yes, everyone's talking about it. And reading up on the candidates. I can't keep a book or magazine about it on the shelves." They'd arrived at the closed door to the study. "I assume you've been asking which candidate people will vote for."

"Yeah. I've talked to fourteen people so far and it's split down the middle."

"Interesting." She lifted her hand to rap on the door. "And everyone who's eligible plans to vote, I presume?"

"Yeah. Kinda wish I could."

"It's going to be big—" Her hand froze in mid-air as shouts from within the study interrupted her.

"Oh yeah? Well, take that, you muscle-headed insect!"

Henry and Belle jumped back from the door and stared at each other in shock.

The voice, which they now recognized as Gold's, bellowed on. "Attack me from behind, will you? Steal my treasure, huh? Come a little closer, dearie, and I'll yank those pointy ears of yours off one by one and feed them to my pet dragon. 'High elf,' my auntie's girdle!"

Wide-eyed, Belle waved Henry behind her as she eased the door open, just enough to peek inside. Her hand remained on the knob, ready to slam the door closed if any fireballs shot out. She took a quick glance inside, then relaxed, sighed and let the door swing wide.

Puzzled, Henry glanced at her for confirmation that it was safe to look inside: she was rolling her eyes. "Rumple's new hobby."

Henry peeked in. His grandfather, uncharacteristically dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, sat at the big mahogany desk with his shoulders hunched around his ears and his fingers flying across a laptop keyboard. "Take that, you overgrown firefly! Yeah, your father's a gnat and your mother wears army boots!" From the computer sounds of explosions and shrieks emanated. Gold's fist pumped the air in triumph as he sank back against his leather chair. "That'll teach you to mess with the Dread Lord Stiltskin, dearie!"

"Ahem!" Belle cleared her throat dramatically.

"Oh!" Gold reddened and slammed the top on his computer closed. "Sweetheart! Henry! Sorry, was I making too much—I was just, ah."

"Mystic Wardlords of Nod l' Ehs," Belle explained to her step-grandson. "He plays against Blue."

"Well, it's less messy than fighting on the streets," Gold replied defensively. Then he grinned sheepishly. "Do you play, Henry? I could teach you."

"No, thanks, Grandpa. I think I'll stick with something more civilized, like Presidential politics."

"Smart lad." Gold stared woefully at his laptop. "Smart lad."