Well, Emma's disorderly conduct case could officially be considered closed. After her conversation with Captain Jones, she'd managed to track down the harbormaster and needed to speak only briefly with him to verify that the captain had already settled the matter, just as he'd advised. Reparations had been made for the harbormaster's losses and he'd received a sincere apology from the captain himself so he no longer wished to pursue charges against the drunken Mr. Parsons, even if the sailor had made quite a mess of things last night.
She probably should have called David to ensure that Mr. Parsons wouldn't be facing any additional charges from the town, but in truth, she didn't want to bother with it. She simply didn't feel that it would be worth the effort. She probably should arrest the sailor and let him spend the night in the station's holding cell but since he was already confined to (and sobering up in) his own ship's brig, it seemed pointless to take him from one form of custody into another - and she definitely didn't want to take any chances of having to clean vomit out of the cruiser.
As far as Emma was concerned, the matter was closed. It was simply useless to push this any further, especially when a certain handsome, modern-day pirate captain would probably just show up and bail out his crew member anyway. She empowered herself to make the decision to inform Captain Jones that all charges against his crewman had been dropped and that Mr. Parsons was free to go...wherever it was that merchant sailors went off to.
Despite her eagerness to put this case behind her, Emma was still harboring a lingering interest in the enigmatic Captain Killian Jones. As smug as he was articulate, he'd captured her attention with his boyish charm. He was perhaps a tad overconfident and maybe even a little bit vain, but Emma's personal superpower sensed no deception from Captain Jones. She'd always felt that she had a sixth sense when it came to reading people (and maybe it had something to do with her newfound magic), but she'd simply had a knack for knowing when people weren't being truthful with her. Granted, her power wasn't always infallible, but only when she let her heart cloud her head - and only one person had ever completely evaded her powers. And even that was probably because she let him…
She figure she owed David at least a quick text message to inform him that the case was closed and she'd be back to the station shortly, needing only to visit the Jolly Roger to give an official "you're off the hook for now, but don't get caught screwing up in my town again" speech to Captain Jones and crew. She'd have everything wrapped up nicely and would be back at her desk to type up her report long before Graham returned from his vandalism case. No way his case was going to be as easy to put away as this one.
When she finally clambered back out of the cruiser, deciding she was now fully mentally prepared to go toe to toe with Captain Jones and his piercing blue eyes, she immediately noticed that the sea breeze had picked up since she'd spoken to the harbormaster just a few minutes ago. Her lip curled into a frown as she dug through her pockets to see if she could locate anything she could use to secure her unruly blonde locks. Long hair and wind simply didn't mix and she absolutely did not want to be spitting strands of hair out of her mouth while trying to look like a professional Sheriff's deputy in front of a ship full of sailors - especially not the one she was finding herself attracted to. Her fingertips finally found a matte black hair elastic tucked inside a nearly empty pack of wintergreen chewing gum. She extracted the hair tie, shoved the gum back into her jeans pocket and pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail all while resetting her composure.
In her battle to tame her wild locks, she'd barely noticed that another car had joined hers on the harbor front. There wasn't anything particularly special about the car - it was just a nondescript black sedan parked maybe fifty yards from her. Nothing flashy. But there was something that drew her attention away from the Jolly Roger and towards that common sedan. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't really the vehicle she was drawn to, but rather its driver. It had everything to do with the tall, sandy-haired man sporting a charcoal grey pinstripe suit who had climbed out and was now standing next to that black sedan. Something was vaguely familiar about his build and his stance, but it wasn't from anyone she knew in Storybrooke. The moment he turned his head so she could make out his profile, she knew - an old friend, er… boyfriend? Someone from back in Boston whom she'd not seen or spoken to in a couple of years but still recognized immediately.
"Walsh?" she called out to her former acquaintance whose back was still to her. "Walsh Gibbons? Is that you?"
The man turned toward her to see Emma standing beside the sheriff's cruiser smiling broadly at him. He squinted for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the glare but reciprocated the welcoming expression as he recognized the familiar red leather garment and long, golden hair of his former flame.
"Emma Swan. I heard that you'd moved up here to Storybrooke but I wasn't sure until just now."
"Well, it's been what - two years since we last spoke?" Emma queried with a grin as she closed the door on the cruiser and took a few steps toward Gibbons.
"Something like that, I guess," he replied with a shrug, closing the distance between them with several long strides. "Joined the Sheriff's Department, I see…"
"Had to earn an honest wage somehow," she chuckled. "What on Earth brings you up this way?" She recalled from their brief relationship that he owned some sort of import-export business back in Boston. Storybrooke seemed a bit off of the beaten path for that line of work. "This is hardly the kind of place that would suit your business."
"You might be surprised," Walsh countered. "Storybrooke is a wonderful source for some of the more eclectic finds. You have some very unique merchandise here in your little town. I'm actually here checking on a shipment that's arriving for a client of mine. I was just on my way to check with the harbormaster to see if the ship it's coming in on has arrived yet."
"Well, unless that ship is the Jolly Roger, it's not here yet. That's the only one in port," she informed him with a nod towards the ship docked a few hundred yards away. "And at least if your cargo was delayed, it was spared from possibly ending up in the bay…"
"I'd certainly hope so…," he responded nervously, a scowl scrunching his brow as he contemplated her statement. "Is there something I should know…?"
"Sorry… nothing earth shattering," she laughed. "Just a drunken sailor who went on a rampage and threw a bunch of stuff into the harbor. A few barrels, a couple of buoys and a whole lot of rum apparently. Nothing really valuable and the harbormaster was already reimbursed for his losses."
"Certainly good to know that the ship I'm awaiting has yet to arrive in port. Doesn't seem that anything of extreme value was lost," he commented, trying to disguise his previous unease over her off-hand statement, although he doubted Emma would grasp the actual of the value of the package he was awaiting. At least if she had sensed his prior discomfort, she made no mention of it, nor did she let it show.
"Well, I was just on my way over to that ship to inform the captain that his crewman won't be facing any official charges," she explained. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I think I'd better get back to work before my brother starts calling and telling me to get my ass back to the station."
"Then, by all means, don't let me keep you from your duties, Deputy," he said, flashing a huge smile that brought memories flooding back as to why she'd been drawn to him in the first place. He was still just as charming as ever and she found herself feeling the little flutter of butterflies in her stomach again. She also couldn't help but let her mind drift back to the spell she'd cast last night. Was it possible that she might have already met her destined love but simply hadn't recognized it before?
"It was really great to see you, Walsh," she grinned, suddenly gushing like a silly schoolgirl. "Maybe our paths will cross again… How long will you be in town?"
"I suppose that depends on how soon my shipment arrives, but I'd already planned to spend a couple of days here. I have a room reserved at Granny's bed and breakfast and I would definitely love to see you again, so, if I'm not being too forward, how about dinner? I saw what looked like a nice little Italian place in town… Would you join me?"
"Uh…," she hesitated a moment, her head swirling with potential answers as she found herself struggling with a bout of insecurity over being asked out by a handsome former flame, albeit a short-lived flame. Should she say yes? Should she decline? "You know what… Sure - why not? Unless there are riots in the streets tonight, I'll be happy to join you, but we're not calling this a date, okay?"
"Okay, just a nice dinner with an old friend. How's 8 o'clock sound? I can pick you up…"
"I'm off at 6 so 8 is fine, but I live a block away from Tony's restaurant. How about I just meet you there?"
"Sounds good. I'll see you tonight then, Emma."
"See you tonight," she repeated as she sensed a slight flush crossing her cheeks while she watched Walsh Gibbons stroll towards the harbormaster's shack. She knew she needed to snap out of this and regain her composure so she could get back to business, but she wanted to revel in this feeling for a minute or two.
Deputy mode, Emma, she reminded herself. She still had a ship's captain to speak to and heaven only knew what else David was going to throw at her today… Of course, right now, her duty meant heading from having this little one on one with a good looking, charming man to conducting a professional debriefing with another suave, attractive man. Could be worse…
With a trace of redness (that she intended to blame on the sun if asked) still visible on her face, Emma scaled the gangplank, hoping that the blush wouldn't be too obvious to a ship full of sailors. She stepped onto the deck under the watchful scrutiny of several crew members who appeared less than pleased to see the deputy aboard their ship again, although she sensed that there were likely just as many leering stares as disapproving ones but she didn't have time to care. That wasn't pertinent to her job.
She spotted the familiar red knit cap of the first mate, Mr. Smee, and shouted the man's name in an attempt to garner his attention. "Mr. Smee - is your captain free?" she asked once the easily sidetracked man acknowledged her presence.
"The captain, ma'am?"
"Yes, I have some new information to pass on to him relating to Mr. Parsons' case."
"Oh, yes, yes. He'll be quite pleased to see you, Miz… Swan, was it? He's below desk overseeing the inventory since some of the stores came up a bit short this week. Cap'n wanted to make sure there were no sticky fingers… You know… Let me go fetch him…"
"Thank you, Mr. Smee," Emma replied with an exhausted sigh after receiving far more information than was necessary.
"Of course. Just stick around here if you would, please."
Emma nodded her confirmation and thankfully, her wait was brief as she spied Captain Jones emerging from beneath a hatch on the opposite side of the deck from where she stood. The starboard side maybe? She wasn't particularly versed in nautical terms and never could remember whether starboard was right or left but this seemed an awkward time for her brain to tease her with nautical words. Did her head really want to make her appear a fool in front of a handsome sailor by tempting her to use the wrong word or phrase?
As he made his way topside, she noticed that Captain Jones had shed his outer layer of black leather but it really wasn't his lack of a jacket that captured her attention - rather it was his apparent lack of a visible hand at the end of his left arm. Her eyes were drawn to a glint of steel shining in the late morning sunlight and even though she tried not to stare, she couldn't stop herself from trying to identify whatever was in place of normal flesh and bone. What the hell was it?
"Deputy Swan," the captain addressed her from across the deck. "I knew you'd be returning expeditiously." The bastard flashed a self-assured grin at her while crossing the deck to meet her by the gangplank. She almost expected him to conceal his abnormal arm from her view again, but he didn't, nor did he react to her obvious interest. "Am I to surmise that matters have now been settled?"
"I do believe that you were quite certain of that earlier, weren't you, Captain?" She responded to his brash self-confidence with a hint of irritation in her voice. She'd never really been the type to appreciate someone being so overly certain of an outcome before she'd been given chance to deliver her conclusions.
"Well, I pride myself on resolving situations before the reach a problematic stage. It can be quite a necessity while at sea for long periods of time on a vessel such as this," he explained with a confident smirk. "But I digress… I was informed that you had some news for me?"
"As you've already figured out by now, since you've settled the damages with the harbormaster, he's chosen not to press charges against Mr. Parsons. Don't suppose he's sobered up yet?"
"Last my security officer checked on him, he was still soundly sleeping it off."
"Well, you can inform him when he's conscious that he's free to go, but he'd better stay out of trouble or there will be charges filed by my department."
"You needn't worry about Mr. Parsons inciting any more ruckus, Deputy Swan," Captain Jones assured her. "He's to be confined to quarters for the duration of our stay in this port and will be assigned additional duties once we set sail. We may look like a bunch of rowdy pirates to the untrained eye, but I run a tight ship here. Mr. Parsons' actions did not provide a proper representation of my crew."
"I certainly hope not, Captain, or I'll run the lot of you out of my harbor," she threatened, although it was mostly posturing as she didn't even know if she had the legal authority to do so.
"I will keep that in mind," he smirked, giving a little nod of his head as he arched an eyebrow, body language speaking loudly that he knew she was bluffing but that he was enjoying the challenge. He'd also decided it was time to comment on her drifting gaze that kept returning to his missing left hand. "I've noticed that your attention keeps being drawn to my prosthetic. Is there something that you would like to ask me, Deputy? There's no secret here…"
Emma's face immediately flushed crimson again as her rudeness in staring at his disabled limb was revealed. "I'm sorry, I noticed it earlier when you came up out of the hatch and I was trying to figure out what it was, which I now can see is a hook… I'm sure there's a story behind it…" She was genuinely curious even if part of her was screaming at her to bolt down the gangplank and not look back.
"Unfortunate result of a run in with an angry crocodile years back," he replied, reciting the tale with little emotion. "He took my hand, but he made a very nice pair of boots."
"Sorry, I shouldn't have…"
"It's fine, Love. It was a long time ago and I've long since come to terms, although one does have to be quite cautious when scratching an itch…" His warm smile eased some of her embarrassment. Clearly, he'd been in this situation before, but she was still feeling like an ass.
"Can I ask - why a hook?"
Jones laughed heartily at the query. "I do have a proper prosthetic hand, but when shipboard, a hook is far more functional. It serves many purposes."
"I suppose that makes you Captain Hook then, doesn't it?" she teased, instantly regretting the quip when he groaned in annoyance - until she realized he was taunting her right back.
"That would be my more colorful moniker, Deputy, but Killian will suffice. Now, since we've put all of these legal formalities behind us, I would like to offer a personal gesture of goodwill to recompense the time you've spent contending with this petty matter. I would be honored if you'd join me for dinner this evening."
Emma blinked in momentary disbelief. Had this handsome, blue-eyed devil just asked her out? And just minutes after Walsh had done the same? More than three weeks without a date and suddenly she casts a single spell and she has too incredibly good looking men both inviting her to dinner?
Oh - there was that. She'd already agreed to dinner with Walsh…
"Captain Jones… Killian, as much as I appreciate the offer, I actually already have plans for tonight…"
"Perhaps another evening then?" he pressed. She could hear the disappointment in his voice, but there was still a hopeful tone that she'd agree to his offer. "Perhaps another night would better suit your schedule?"
"You know, I'm not sure how appropriate this is, but sure - why not?" She shoved her right hand into the inside pocket of her jacket and fished out a slightly bent and lint-covered business card that contained both her Sheriff's Department phone number as well as her personal cell number. "Here," she began as she passed the card to him, "I'll check my schedule and we can plan for another night. Call me tomorrow at that second number on the card."
Killian accepted the card from her with a broad, genuine smile, giving her a peek at the man behind the bravado and innuendo. He glanced briefly at the card before slipping it into the breast pocket of his vest. "I will call you tomorrow then, Emma. Until then, enjoy your time with whomever the lucky party may be who'll be in your company tonight."
"I will," she responded sheepishly, cheeks flushing anew as she contemplated the sheer absurdity of this morning. Here she was, blushing like a fool, with two eligible men fawning over her. Just what the hell had she done?
