He was fucked. Fucked and very drunk. It could have been anyone who walked out of the bathroom at that moment, but why did she have to have blond hair? He could pretend. A thought he entertained in the short interlude in the hallway there. But then she had to bring up her - Emma. Emma Emma Emma. He spent the entire evening drinking and thinking about her. He wanted to forget her but the rum wasn't washing anything away.
A one handed pirate with a drinking problem. Why should she want him? She had her son and her… whatever Neal was. He saw them talk last night. At least they could be happy. He wasn't about to break up another family. That hadn't gone well in the past.
Three hundred years and he had never felt like this. He had never hurt this much. All because of Emma.
He wasn't really fully aware of what happened next. There was a scream and instantly he assumed the worst. That something had happened to her. But there she was, staring at him - the face he wanted to forget.
"Perhaps." Nothing was going to happen between he and Tink, not after she brought up her, not after he remembered who he truly wanted, despite the drunken haze. But he wanted to make her hurt, he wanted to make her feel what he felt every time she so much as stood in the same room as Neal.
Was she jealous? That was all that mattered. He wanted her to ache the way he did at the thought that he would never taste her lips again. That what he felt for her would never be returned.
There was a flash of jealousy, he was certain that he'd seen it. Hell, a woman was screaming somewhere and she was concerned about whether or not he'd gotten with Tink. He wouldn't have. No amount of imagination could have given him what he wanted. She wasn't the right height and her hair wasn't the right color of blond. She didn't smell like Emma.
There was no substitute. He'd been a fool for thinking that there could be. No one was Emma. There was only Emma.
Perhaps he'd pay for making her jealous. One day.