Killian was pleasantly surprised by how much time they spent at the Chapel that morning, exploring the building and the land it was sitting upon. With Emma by his side, he was noticing things he'd never even glanced at before, and likewise, he was able to point out certain facts and figured he'd learned throughout his life to make her own visit more enjoyable. It was strange. Since becoming an adult and graduating from college, Killian rarely took vacations with anyone else. Sure, he and his friend August would take one to somewhere sunny once a year – a men-only trip, as August liked to call them – but he'd found he much preferred exploring the world alone, in his own time, and on his own schedule. Yet, with Emma at his side, he was no longer searching for a way to escape as soon it was deemed polite. Instead, Killian was racking his brain to try and find an excuse to prolong their visit.

Thankfully, Emma didn't seem to be struggling as much as he was because once they stepped back out through the front doors, she turned to him to ask, "Do you fancy grabbing a spot of lunch before we head back? I don't know if you've gone that far down the village yet, but there's this wonderful little restaurant on the outskirts that has some simply spectacular views – not to mention the best seafood I've ever eaten."

"Is it just seafood?" he asked, throwing her a look that must have clearly communicated how off-putting the idea was to him.

"Why? What's wrong with seafood?" Emma challenged.

"It's just… stinky. And slimy," he added for good measure.

"Are you serious right now? You don't like spinach, coffee, or seafood? What do you like?"

"Normal food," he threw back at her, as he watched her take a pair of sunglasses from her bag and slide them onto her face. "Things like pasta and steaks and burgers and stuff like that."

"So… all the things likely to lead to an early death," Emma teased. "Good to know." She shook her head with mock exasperation, and Killian fell into step beside her as they began making their way through the village once more.

"I can't believe a rich boy like you doesn't enjoy seafood," she suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "What did the chefs prepare for you when you were younger, Killian?"

"The kind of stuff all kids eat," he muttered, "And most kids don't eat seafood."

"True," she agreed, turning to face him as they continued walking along the cobbled streets, "But adults do. Have you not even attempted to try any since you grew up?"

"I like salmon," he told her, "And the occasional tuna salad. But all the rest just looks so gross."

Emma snorted out a laugh as she pointed at a small street to their left. "You're like a toddler trapped in a hot man's body."

"Thanks," he deadpanned. "That might be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me before."

Emma's giggles carried on the air as they turned down the small street bringing the restaurant she'd been talking about into view.

"Do you fancy splitting a bottle of wine with lunch?" she asked, as they neared the building.

A server hurried over to greet them both enthusiastically and showed them to a table outside, shaded from the bright afternoon sun but still warm enough to be pleasant.

"I uh… I don't really drink," Killian told her, already cringing as he did. When Emma opened her mouth to offer some sort of retort, he quickly added, "I'm not against it or anything. I just – I've never really seen the point of it before."

"Are you sure you went to college?" Emma teased.

Killian rolled his eyes as he pulled a menu in his direction.

"I'll have a glass of your house Sauvignon Blanc, please," Emma told their server, "And he'll have a large glass of Cola."

The other woman scribbled down their orders then excused herself to go and fetch their drinks.

Killian was so distracted by what the menu had to offer that he completely missed the way that Emma had pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head so that she could study him carefully. It wasn't until he'd finally decided on one of the chicken dishes available that he set it back down and found her green eyes staring in his direction.

"What?" he asked, fidgeting uncomfortably under the intensity of her stare.

"Nothing," she assured him, "It's just… you're not at all the kind of person I thought you'd be the night you first interrupted me."

"And you're nothing like the woman I thought you'd be the night we first met. I mean, for one thing, you're not as angry as I imagined."

Emma leaned forward to slap his chest playfully, and Killian's chuckles didn't stop until their server appeared once more with their drinks, ready to take their orders. When they had given her their requests, she gathered up their menus and disappeared again.

"So, what were you expecting when you first met me?" Killian finally asked.

"Someone rude and condescending," Emma replied, before reaching out to take a sip from her drink. "Strange men don't often interrupt women they've never met before while they're reading. Especially when they've paid said woman no attention up until that point. I assumed you were either going to criticize my choice of novel or else try and review it for me with your 'expert opinion.' I'm happy to admit that in this case, I was wrong."

"Maybe not too wrong," he conceded. "I've been called rude and condescending before. That's actually one of the more polite things I've been called."

Emma chuckled a little as she fiddled with her drink and then asked, "Because of your job?"

"Yeah."

"I get it." At Killian's raised eyebrow, she went on to elaborate, "I'm not a journalist, obviously, and I honestly have no interest in ever becoming one, but –" she broke off for a moment to fidget with the silverware on the table.

Killian was a little shocked to see her looking so hesitant.

"I taught myself everything I know about music," she finally said, raising her head to meet his eyes. "It was a nice distraction while I was at school, and it kept me away from most of the other kids at breaks and lunchtimes. Being the kid that always had an out-of-date uniform and could never afford to go on school trips and such made for a lonely childhood, so I found a way to keep myself company. When the library stopped being a refuge, the music room became one. At first, I sucked at everything I touched. I had never held an instrument before, let alone attempted to play one. But a few library books and a lot of time alone meant that I quickly picked up on things, and I could read music within a few months. I could apply it to a piano a few months later and the guitar a year after that. I even had the violin down before I left high school. Music became a friend to me. So much so that when it came time to start thinking about applying to university, I told everyone that I wanted to study music and, well, let's just say that most of them weren't supportive of that decision. My form tutor at school, who was supposed to offer me career guidance, told me the most I could do with a music degree was teach music, which was a waste of my talents. She was so adamant that I make something of myself and do something worthwhile with my life that I applied to study politics at every university I chose. I figured if nobody thought I could make a change with my music, maybe I could make policy changes that would help other kids in my position."

Killian nodded his head, but it was more of an encouragement for Emma to continue her story than it was an agreement to her statement.

"I'm quite happy where I am. I'm not gonna deny that. Cambridge is a wonderful university, and it has fantastic teachers and facilities. They even have a music department that allows me to go and continue playing and creating to my heart's content, even though I'm not actually a part of their department. And without them, I wouldn't be here today. It was through their music department that I landed my first job – if you can call it that – and it's why I finally have some money to do a little traveling. Anyway, I guess my point is that I've seen the way people judge others for following their passions, and that's not something I'm ever gonna do. You turned your passion into a career, Killian. That's something you should be proud of, even if others try and bring you down. Although, after this week, I guess I should start working on not rushing to judge strangers who interrupt me while I'm reading."

Killian offered her a small smile as she finished talking, but it was hard to put much warmth into it. His heart ached for the younger Emma who had found comfort in something as simple as music – who had taken it upon herself to learn her passion because she didn't have the means to study it any other way – only to be told that she shouldn't follow that passion.

Killian had always understood that he was lucky to have grown up in such a wonderful and loving home. It hadn't been perfect, that he'd always known, but his life had been so much easier than so many other people's just because of the family he'd been born into, and that realization had never been as apparent as it was now. His mother would have supported him regardless of what career path he chose, and he hated that Emma had nobody in her life to offer her the same unconditional support that she deserved.

"Don't," she warned darkly, before taking another sip from her drink.

"Don't what?" he asked, genuinely confused about the meaning behind her statement.

"Don't pity me. I don't need it, and I don't want it. I might not have had a picture-perfect childhood, but I also had things a lot easier than many children around the world currently experience. I always had food, and I always had a bed. The same cannot be said for far too many people, so please, don't pity me."

"I wasn't," he assured her. "I was just… I guess I was just reflecting a little on my own life. You reminded me of how privileged it's been and just how lucky I am. You make me want to do more with that privilege when I get home, to give a voice to those who don't have one. I've been hiding behind a desk for far too long now because I was scared of what my work was doing to me, but I think it might be time to get back out into the field and start pushing my limits again. You're right, there are people in this world who have it far worse, and they deserve to have their stories heard."

"I fully support that plan," Emma told him, raising her glass in a silent toast. "And I know you don't want to reveal too much but, I just have to know; if you're going out into the field, will there be a way for me to watch that happen and tell everyone I know – which is admittedly like four people if I don't count you – that I know you?"

Killian snorted into his drink and choked a little on the way the bubbles filled his nose.

"Wow, it really is like dining with a toddler," Emma mused.

"Shut up," he threw back at her, as he used his napkin to mop up the mess he'd somehow managed to make, "Or I won't give you an answer to your question."

"I'd say that worries me, but it really doesn't. You do know the moment you leave France, I'm gonna Google the hell out of you, right?"

"I figured you would," he admitted because, after all, he was probably going to do the same to her when his flight landed at JFK. "And yes, you'll be able to watch it from the UK," he told her. "I believe we live stream twenty-four hours a day globally."

"Wow! Get you, Mr. Fancy-Pants."

Emma let a comfortable silence settle between the two of them as Killian's chicken casserole was placed in front of him, and a plate of baked Mediterranean cod was set in front of her.

It was only when his first forkful was halfway to his mouth that she decided to speak up again.

"Wait a minute, if you live stream globally, does that mean that you're sort of famous?" Emma asked.

Killian hesitated for a moment as he decided how best to answer her question. Eventually, he settled on, "Sort of, yeah," before he slid the chicken straight into his mouth.

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