It was tempting to kick down the door to the Trip Trap, but Bigby resisted. Instead, he opened it, fist only a little too tight around the doorknob. Early morning, but the pub was still home to the regulars. Did they live here or something?

'Bigby,' Holly greeted, eying him somewhat warily, 'You good?'

That was… Odd.

'I look that bad?' He commented, approaching the bar. Gren was there, half asleep with a bottle of whatever goat's piss he'd taken a fancy to this time.

Holly shrugged, cloth swiping a glass clean, 'Just been hearing things,' Put the glass down, reaching for the spirits, 'Drink?'

'No,' Bigby shook his head, leaning against the bar next to Gren, though careful not to wake him, 'I'm here on business.'

She paused, carefully putting the bottle down and faced him, 'Yeah?'

'Where can I find Jack?'

'Horner?'

Bigby raised a brow, 'Know any other Jacks?'

Holly gave him a look.

'That I'd be interested in.'

'Fine,' She sighed, 'Just don't tell him it was me.'

'Done.'

'He bunks in Rose Red's old place, sometimes,' Holly said, turning away again and fishing a glass out of the ether to continue wiping that dirty rag over it, 'Other than that, I have no idea where he'd be.'

Bigby nodded his thanks, glanced at Gren's comatose form and turned to leave.

'All this unrest…' Holly said, quiet, the swish of her rag filling the silence, 'It's not good for business. You're gonna sort it?'

'Yes,' He said with conviction, looking back at her, 'I'll get things back to normal, Holly.'

She hummed and her shoulders slumped a little, 'We need a break, after the Crooked Man. We all do.'

Bigby dipped his head. The bruising on his throat twinged - he certainly needed a break. Not that he'd ever get one.

Then he left, door slamming behind him and the bracing cold of very early morning turning his nose pink and his breath into a misty cloud.

Rose Red's place.

Where was that? And why would Jack have access to it?

Like every other time he was stumped for what to do, Bigby found himself heading back to the Woodlands. This time at a jog, cursing his skintness as taxi after taxi passed him by.

Because the fucker who was terrorising his town had a sword. A fucking sword. One from the Homelands and that made it even worse. He'd been on the receiving end of Winter a few times over the years - especially when he'd almost murdered Snow, way back when - and that fucker hurt.

He had to be quick. Catch this bastard, go back to peacekeeping peacefully and get this fucking collar off. Then go find somewhere he could shift and just exist as himself, if he managed to find the time.

Like that'd ever happen, but here's to hoping.

Bigby made it to the Woodlands. Exhausted, legs quivering and panting. Pathetic human body.

It was still early - too early for the Business Office to be open, but he didn't doubt Snow was still up, buried under paperwork and styrofoam coffee cups.

Grimble slept, the lift beeped and the whole building was dark. Creaking and filled with people curled up in their beds, snoring away.

The Business Office lights were off when Bigby approached the door, frosted glass dark. He slowly opened it, slipped in and tried to look around. All he could see was a faint glow where Snow's desk was - her lamp.

It threw a warm light over the table, illuminating a head of dark hair slumped over crossed arms with crumpled sheafs of paper sticking out, crinkling around her elbows and crunching as she shifted. As predicted, a styrofoam cup sat next to her, the desktop beneath it stained brown with countless coffee rings.

Bigby sighed. At least one of them was getting some sleep.

Now where to find Rose Red's address?

Her name sounded somewhat familiar, but he was the Big Bad Wolf and this was Fabletown; he'd come across pretty much everyone at one point or another.

Which was when Buffkin utterly destroyed his attempt at stealth by dropping down onto the desk from wherever it was he'd been perched.

Bigby jumped, automatically reaching out to grab the little monkey before he stopped himself as Buffkin slowly came to, stinking of wine.

Snow, however, woke up a lot quicker.

Straight-backed and wide-eyed in an instant, she glared at Buffkin, then at Bigby.

'What are you doing?' She asked, seemingly directed at both of them, 'And why did you have to do it at,' She checked her watch, scowl deepening as she did, 'Three in the morning?'

Bigby glanced away, scratching his chin and rocking a little on his heels.

Buffkin shrugged, 'Don't look at me!' He exclaimed, as Snow shared her glare equally.

'I need to find Red Rose's place,' Bigby explained quickly as those ice blue eyes burrowed into him, 'Thought one of the books might help.'

Snow froze. Then her hands, still resting on the table, began to shake.

Bigby stared at her, then stepped closer, 'Snow?' He said, soft. Attempting to be reassuring.

'I'm fine,' She said reflexively and stood, crossing her arms, hiding her hands. Turned away from him, 'Buffkin, the book of Fables not in Fabletown. And the yellow pages.'

Bigby blinked, 'Yellow pages?'

Snow sighed, probably pinching the bridge of her nose. She was walking away, then pacing, 'Why do you need to know, Bigby?'

'Jack Horner bunks there from what I've heard.'

'And why do you need to speak to Jack?'

Bigby moved around the desk, walked towards Snow slowly, head cocked and cautious, 'He works at the Lucky Pawn and confronting Jersey is suicide.'

She stilled, glanced over at him with a confused look, 'But you're stronger than the Jersey Devil!'

He snorted, 'Yeah, that's why he nearly fucking killed me.'

'You were drunk!'

Bigby snarled. Or tried to.

Drunk! He'd whiped out armies whilst pissed out of his fucking mind and Snow blamed this on being drunk!

But the words to explain that wouldn't come. And even if they did, Snow already fucking knew, so what was the point in reminding her?!

Instead, he bit out; 'Fuck you.'

Snow straightened up, whipping round to face him and mouth pulling open to begin berating him when Buffkin reappeared, a familiar stack of books weighing him down.

A thump that drowned out whatever Snow wanted to say and Bigby returned to the desk, fists clenched and shoulders tense.

Buffkin looked like he was about to say something, but he shut his mouth when he saw Bigby's face, scampered back from the book and gave a really fucking fake smile.

Flipping open the tome, Bigby took a deep breath. He needed to be calm if he was going to make any sense out of this mess. Every lead just shoved him in the direction of another; all he had were leads after leads after leads, spiraling away into nothing. None of them had useful information when he chased it down and he doubted this would be any different.

Dancing on the strings left out for him by this robber didn't sit well with Bigby.

He flipped through the pages, colourful drawings and pencil sketches blurring together as he tried to find one that stood out. He didn't know Rose Red, but he probably knew of her. Everyone knew everyone in Fabletown. Or had done, at some point.

Which was when Snow pushed him with enough force that he had to widen his stance to keep balance, then put her back into it and Bigby stepped aside, turning to glare at her, but stopped when he saw her face.

Hands still trembling, Snow flicked the pages until a familiar spread lay open on the desk.

It was the woman he'd seen last time, alongside Red Riding and the others. Beneath the sketched form, eerily similar to Snow, was the name 'Rose Red'.

'That's her?' Bigby asked, leaning in a little to get a closer look, 'But why does she have a place here if she doesn't live in Fabletown?'

Snow sighed, 'I didn't know she did.'

'Who is she?'

'My sister,' She smiled hollowly, but the shaking had stopped.

Bigby blinked, anger melting away. 'Oh.'

'I just hope she isn't involved in this,' Snow sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, 'That'd be yet another headache I really don't have time for.'

'But how do I find out where-'

Buffkin interrupted, 'I brought the yellow pages for a reason.'

'Yellow pages?' Bigby asked, turning to the monkey standing next to a paperback that was, true to its name, bright yellow.

Snow smiled wryly, 'Buffkin, you explain it. I need to sleep somewhere the Sheriff doesn't barge in.'

Bigby rolled his eyes but turned to the monkey with a raised brow and crossed arms.

Holding the styrofoam cup, Snow left the Business Office with heavy feet and bleary eyes.

'Right,' Buffkin said, turning to the bright yellow book and began to flick through it, 'It's a good thing Fabletown is recognised as its own district by the Mundies…'

'Why?' Bigby leant over to peer down at the book, though the writing was far too small and cramped for him to read.

'Because otherwise I'd be searching through all the names in New York instead of just Fabletown,' Buffkin said, flicking a few more pages before he let out a satisfied ahh, slamming a hand down on the spread. A few lines down, a capital letter 'R' broke up the cramped text.

Bigby stared at it confused, but Buffkin seemed to know what he was doing. Finger dragging down the page as he read the lists of names far too quickly, he soon paused. Nodded to himself and turned to look up at Bigby with a pleased smile, 'Rose Red, thirteen Round Table Road, Fabletown.'

'Bit on the nose,' Bigby commented with a grumble - if she was one of those knights, he really wasn't looking forward to this. Camelot had quite famously disliked him back in the day.

'As you say, Bigby Wolf,' Buffkin smirked mischievously, 'It's not like your name is a pun.'

'Yeah, yeah,' He rolled his eyes and turned away, tugging his tie in a fruitless attempt to straighten it, 'Tell Snow where I've gone when she gets back.'

'Will do, Sheriff!'

Bigby left with a small wave at Buffkin and yet another, likely useless, lead to follow.