Emma tapped her pencil listlessly on her desk, bored out of her mind. She rested her head in her other hand, looking at the stack of paperwork in front of her, and sighed.
The clock ticked.
Neal flipped a page.
Leroy snored softly from within his cell.
She glanced at Neal reading his magazine. He raised his cup. Took a sip. Swallowed… Set it back down. She looked over at Leroy. Back at Neal. Back at the clock.
Emma cleared her throat. "So…" Neal glanced up, raising his eyebrows. "S-so, is it…hand-kerchief, or hank-kerchief?"
Neal's mouth opened uncertainly. "I'm sorry?"
"I, uh… I-I was just wondering if you knew if it was hand-kerchief or hank-kerchief," she said awkwardly.
Neal shook his head, eyebrows still raised bewilderedly. "I'm… not… sure."
Emma nodded slowly.
Neal blinked a few times, then went back to his magazine.
Leroy snored.
The clock ticked.
"What's the difference between a pickle and a gherkin?"
Neal slowly raised his head to see Emma frowning at him. "I …don't know that one, either."
Emma inhaled, nodding her head again. "Right…" She blew out her breath slowly.
Neal flipped a page.
The clock ticked.
Leroy snored.
Emma tapped her pencil.
"So—"
"Sorry to interrupt, guys!"
Emma twisted in her seat at the sound of Hook's voice and the door swinging open. It took her a minute to sort out why he was smiling so wide, or what it was that seemed jarringly different about him. But then she realized…
"Are you—?" she frowned, wondering if she was hallucinating. "Are you wearing…jeans?"
Hook beamed, looking immensely proud of himself. Belle walked in behind him, her steps slow and deliberate, clearly annoyed. Neal gave him a once-over, nodded approvingly with a "Huh", and went back to his magazine. Emma stared at him open-mouthed, her eyes still squinted in suspicion. Hook raised his eyebrows, grinning.
"So….?" He spun around, showing off his new clothes the way a five-year-old shows off a picture they drew. "What do we think?"
"I think you're wearing jeans," she said, standing up to get a better look. It was bizarre, to say the least. She never thought she'd live long enough to see Hook part with the pirate coat; she'd half-expected him to continue walking around with whatever he could salvage after they shredded it last night.
"Hell, yeah, I am!" he said triumphantly. Belle folded her arms, unimpressed as she leaned against the doorframe.
"Yes, we're all so proud of you," she drawled. "You've really branched out. Reinvented yourself. Become a changed man."
"She hates my jacket," Hook explained in a loud whisper, leaning closer to Emma. He glanced at Belle over his shoulder before adding, "I think she's jealous."
"Yes, that's exactly what it is," Belle said witheringly. "I'm jealous of your stupid jacket."
"Oh, don't be upset." Hook put his good arm around Belle, a wicked glint in his eye. "Come on, Belle… you're still my second favorite…"
"Get off," she said in annoyance, trying to shrug him away as he laughed uproariously. Emma raised her eyebrows.
"I have never seen you like this," she said, still trying to process this new Hook. "You're so…different."
"Good different, I take it?" he winked. Emma twisted her mouth in a bemused smile. Who was this guy? He looked like Hook. He spoke with Hook's voice. He wore Hook's earring. He had Hook's weirdly flexible eyebrows. But he wasn't Hook. He couldn't be. Hook was a tortured, angst-ridden pirate, perpetually on the verge of tears, alternating between bitter humor and tearful declarations of love. This guy was just…something else entirely.
"Uh…sure," she grinned, still not sure what to make of him.
"And how about this jacket?" he asked, adjusting it in the reflection of the window.
Emma bit back her laughter. "You're really pulling it off."
"I know, right?" he said in a hushed voice, apparently in awe of himself.
"Yes. You're beautiful. We know," Neal said loudly. Hook glanced at Neal and for a minute, Emma was afraid he was going to do what he usually did and toss out a biting retort that would end up sparking a battle. He surprised her by holding his hands in mock surrender.
"All right, point taken," he smiled. Neal blinked rapidly, as if struggling to compute what just happened—or rather, what didn't happen. Emma stared, wondering if this was a dream after all. Even Belle's jaw unhinged, forgetting her irritation to stare at the weirdly cheerful pirate.
"So, listen," Hook said, breaking them all out of their reverie. "I got to go. Got some things to take care of. So—" he gave Emma half a hug—-"I'll see you guys later—" he fist-bumped Neal's idle hand—"and call if you need me. I, uh—" he laughed—"I can't guarantee I'll pick up, 'cause I'm still working on remembering how to work the answering button. But if not, I'll just see you tomorrow, 'kay?"
"'Kay," Emma said, still stunned. She raised her hand as he strolled out the door, humming under his breath. "'Bye."
All three stared after him, even as he disappeared down the hall and out the door. Slowly, Emma turned around to look at Neal. She jutted her thumb behind her.
"D' you know that guy?"
Neal raised his eyebrows and slowly shook his head. "Never seen him before in my life," he said, and turned back to his magazine.