They walked. It didn't seem like he had a problem with it, nor did she. Clara had gotten used to walking and if he were telling the truth – that he was some sort of pirate lost in time, who kept looking at cars in a strange way, or staring menacingly at stereos that they passed – then she didn't want to know the commotion he would cause if they tried to ride the tube. He might insist they'd just entered some sort of burrowing dragon and decide he had to slay it with his sword.

Of course, she also knew, walking had its disadvantages. She was beginning to get hungry and her feet were starting to hurt, and the sun was now hanging lower in the sky, threatening to start setting in the next few hours. But it was kind of entertaining, trying to find ways to explain the world to him. All the while pretending that maybe this was some elaborate joke and Nina would jump out of a trash bin with a laugh for her any moment now.

She eyed his hands absently, because if he was supposed to be Captain Hook, she wasn't sure why he still had both of his hands and anyone playing as thought out of a prank as this should know he didn't receive his name for his fighting style. Then again, she considered, he didn't call himself Captain Hook – he called himself Killian Jones and she was certain she wasn't aware of that name. With a smile, she decided not to ask him about it, to see how long before he brought it up. Or, she bit her lip, Peter Pan.

"You've been grinning as though you harbor a funny tale – I'd love to hear it," he finally sighed, glancing down at her as the smell of the sea began to waft around them.

Clara found herself involuntarily inhaling because she loved the ocean. She could remember sitting next to the lapping waves, huddled under a blanket between her parents, watching the sun set. Glancing up at the eager eyes that waited, she nodded, "I'm trying to believe you're really a pirate; not really something we get here every day."

"There are no more pirates?" He asked sadly.

She shook her head, then shrugged, "Suppose there will always be pirates of some sort, but you're," she gestured at his outfit, "You're the swashbuckling kind from fairy tales. I half expect a parrot to suddenly land on your shoulder, asking for crackers."

He released a small laugh and told her, "You amuse me, Clara. When you're not intent on insulting me."

"You're still freaking me out."

Tilting his head, he told her, "You never quite explained that one to me."

"Scaring me," she rephrased.

He raised his hands to his chest and feigned insult, "Scaring you? Come now, how have I managed to frighten you in any way."

She laughed, "Maybe things are different where… when you came from, but in today's world, one doesn't just walk into a pub in that, with a sword, and start talking to a girl, much less one like me."

Killian shifted to look at her and she could see the confusion in his eyes as he questioned, "Why wouldn't they?"

"Why would they?" She challenged.

He dropped a hand to wave over the space next to her and admitted, "You're quite oblivious to the fact that you're lovely, that's endearing."

She didn't know whether to thank him or punch him, but she could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment and she heard him chuckle. "This your ploy? Charm women with your pirate outfit and your unexpected compliments."

Tilting his head towards her, he whispered, "You're coming with me to my ship, aren't you?"

Clara pointed, "Only because I think you're full of it." Then she added, to his confusion, "Lying."

He laughed, "If that were true, you'd be a fool."

"A fool?"

"If you thought that," he nodded, "You'd practically be letting me walk you down the plank."

"Are you going to make me walk the plank," Clara teased, smirking up at him and watching him stop and turn to give her a considerate look before shaking his head and smiling.

"You'd make a fine siren," he teased before inhaling and she watched his body relax on the exhale as he declared, "The freshest scent you'll ever find – the ocean."

"Sort of the Earth's filter," Clara informed him before rubbing her nose at the increasing cold's effect on it. She imagined it was turning the color of blood and for a moment she feared it was running without her knowledge and she slipped her finger under it to test her skin.

"We'll be there soon," he offered quietly.

"Ah, yes, the ship." She smiled when he cocked his head. "How long have you been travelling?"

He shrugged, "Seems my whole life," then he turned, "You travel often?"

Clara frowned then, looking back up with less resolve than she'd had before and she admitted, "Haven't really travelled at all."

"Now that's a travesty. Girl like you should have seen the world by now."

With a smile, she asked, "Why's that?"

"Because a girl like you?" His words trailed and he turned away, shaking a thought out of his head before stopping and admitting, "Girl like you should have the world at her command, should reach out and grasp it and make it hers – it's a travesty that you haven't."

She was staring now. At the eyes that searched hers and the lips that were curled into a small grin and she looked down, breaking eye contact because she was having difficulty breathing, smirking when she saw his hands clench and unclench nervously. Clara then shrugged and met his glance again, seeing the small hint of anxiety there as she asked, "Why have we stopped?"

Raising his right hand out, he smiled, "Because we've reached my ship."