The little bells attached to the door jangled merrily as Henry entered the charming coffee shop – Jones the wooden sign swinging above the door announced – with his laptop tucked under his arm. He ordered a cappuccino and a chocolate croissant from the man working behind the counter, then took a seat at the table closest to the window, overlooking Storybrooke's main street.

For several minutes, he stared vacantly out at the people bustling along the sidewalk outside, his mind clouded with thoughts from another time, another life. His laptop was open before him, cursor flashing on the screen, awaiting the outpouring of words he intended to write but never did.

With a clatter of ceramic against wood, the barista set a mug and a plate on the table before him, startling him out of his thoughtful reverie. "If you're wondering what the Wi-Fi password is," the man spoke, watching as Henry shook himself back to the present and focused again on the screen, "We don't have internet connection in here."

"Even better," Henry said. "I could really use a break from the distraction, so I can finally get to work."

"Let me guess," the stranger said. "Journalist? Some kind of blogger?"

"An author," Henry said. "Well. Sort of. So far, all I've done is stare at a blank screen and hoped words would magically appear." He shrugged then, realizing he was unloading on a perfect stranger, offering a grateful smile and taking a sip of coffee. The man had turned and was about to walk away, when Henry piped up again, "Is this...cinnamon in the coffee?"

"I always add a hint of it to the hot beverages – it's kind of my signature. But I can make a fresh one if you don't..."

He laughed. "I add cinnamon to everything," he assured, "My fiancee makes fun of me for it, but I've just always done it and never thought to question why." He flashed his signature dimpled smile. "I'm Henry, by the way," he offered, reaching out a hand to shake.

"William," the man greeted, taking the proffered hand. "Everyone calls me Will, though."

"Nice to meet you, Will."

"So, what brings you here?" Will asked, settling into the opposite chair, seeing as the cafe was deserted but for the two of them.

"I needed a place to write and something with lots of caffeine and this place seemed to have both," he explained with a cheeky grin.

He laughed. "I meant, what brings you to Storybrooke?"

"I know," Henry assured him. "I was just getting tired of being asked that..."

"I'm sure you've figured out by now that strangers aren't exactly a common sight around here," Will pointed out.

He nodded, sighed. "My fiancee, Clara, and I were on our way to Vegas, but our motorcycle crapped out and stranded us here in Storybrooke, so here we are. At least it will give me some time to work on my novel...assuming I ever find any inspiration."

"What's your novel about?"

Henry shrugged. "Honestly? I have no clue. This is my first novel and I'm not exactly sure I'm cut out for writing, if the past few months are any indication..."

"Well, Storybrooke isn't exactly known for being a hub of inspiration," Will informed him. "In fact, it's a rather bleak cultural wastescape, if you ask me."

"I just need an idea – any idea, really. We need money ASAP." He let out a nervous laugh, winced at perhaps oversharing. "Do you know if anyone happens to be hiring around here?"

Will shrugged. "Not that I know of. But, if you're not picky, I could use a handyman for the occasional odd job... I can't pay much, but it's something."

Henry offered a thankful smile. "That would be wonderful. Thank you so much!"

The bells over the door tinkled again and Will stood suddenly, nearly stumbling over himself to greet the person who'd just entered. "Oh, hey, JJ," he said with a lame attempt at nonchalance.

Henry craned his neck to get a better view of the newcomer who had Will so obviously flustered, his attempt at writing long since forgotten in favour of small town gossip.

The newcomer – JJ, apparently – set down a take-out bag and a to-go cup of coffee on the counter.

"What's this?" Will asked, immediately wincing at how dumb that had sounded.

"Lunch," JJ replied, playful smile dancing on her lips. When he still seemed dumbfounded, she continued, "Seeing as you've come to the diner for lunch every day for the past...oh, forever, I figured I'd save you the trouble and bring lunch to you."

"Oh. That's... That's, umm... That's really sweet of you," he stammered, apparently lost for words.

"I just have one question, though..."

"Anything."

"You run a cafe. That serves coffee. And sandwiches," JJ said pointedly. "What's stopping you from eating here? And don't say it's because the diner has better food – I've eaten that food forever, it's really not that special..."

Will shrugged. "I guess it's the view."

She raised a brow. "Main Street?" she asked skeptically. She seemed about to say more, but faltered, seeing the way Will's eyes focused on her with so much tenderness, so much affection. She cleared her throat, cheeks pinking. "Yeah. I guess the view's alright. Anyway, I've got to get back, but, umm...enjoy your lunch."

Henry waited until the door clicked shut behind her before turning to Will. "Was that your best attempt at flirting? Because, let me tell you, man...that was sad."

"What do you know," he said with a dismissive wave. "You're just a kid."

"A kid who's engaged," he countered. "So, how long have you been in love with her?"

Will heaved a wistful sigh. "As long as I can remember."

"Well, she obviously likes you too," Henry insisted. "Why don't you just ask her out?"

"Because she'd never go out with a guy like me. Besides, her older sister is incredibly overprotective – she doesn't let any guy get within a hundred feet of her. I've got no chance..." he lamented.

"If you really love her, you wouldn't let that stop you," Henry said sagely.