"So," Robin said, setting a wine glass down in front of her, "I know you can't drink alcohol, but I figured after a twenty-minute conversation with Rumplestiltskin, you could use a drink. So I brought you some sparkling grape juice."

Regina stared at him for a minute, then slowly trailed her eyes down to the juice-filled glass in front of her. Did Robin understand that beverages didn't have the benefits of alcohol by mere virtue of being in the same glass?

"You two were very whispery," Robin remarked, taking a sip from his own glass (filled—very insensitively, as it was right in front of her—with wine). "What were you talking about?"

"Magical theory," Regina said, picking up her glass and swilling the juice around experimentally. "We were talking about the portal in the well, and how to hold the barrier open wide enough to let the magic through."

Robin's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, my God," he said. "So, I'll finally get to meet my not-really-but-sort-of-mother-in-law?"

"Slow your roll, we're not even sure if it'll work yet,"she grimaced.

"What? Why not?"

Regina closed her eyes exasperatedly. "Robin, you don't understand the first thing about magical theory. Do you really want me to try to explain to you the most complex subject I have ever studied to answer a question I'm not even sure has a right answer yet?"

"Um…" Robin blinked rapidly, trying to dissect her words. "I suppose not."

Regina morosely swilled her juice around, then made a face and set it down. "This is horrible," she muttered. "Can't drink, stuck in this house with people I hate, all of whom are insisting I be cheerful because it's Christmas. Well, excuse me, but do any of them have an unformed humanoid alien growing inside them?"

"Is it terribly uncomfortable today?" Robin asked worriedly. "Do you need anything?"

"I need you to shut up," Regina said through clenched teeth. Robin's insipid questions were the absolute last thing she needed right now. It already felt like this party had been going on for an eternity, and between the clear shot of Emma trying to seduce Neal and the general misery of pregnancy, she couldn't decide which made her more uncomfortable (although both were great contenders). All she knew for certain, was that she was on her last nerve with every living and breathing person around her and she couldn't tell if she was hungry or nauseous and she was ready to take that stupid tie around Robin's neck and just pull—

"Oh!" he exclaimed as the glass shattered in his hand. Regina jumped, startled by the sudden surge power that had escaped her. Robin looked up slowly, pointing wordlessly at his now-stained shirt. "Was it—?"

"Yes, it was her," Regina grimaced, putting a hand on her stomach. Maybe Baby Witch didn't take kindly to being called an "unformed humanoid alien". Or maybe she just agreed with Regina that her father was beyond irritating right now.

"Oh, drat," Robin sighed, looking down forlornly at the spreading stain. "I'll just pop up stairs, grab a new shirt…back in a few, darling."

"Take your time," Regina muttered. She got up from the table and started for the kitchen, hoping to take refuge in a piece of lasagna or something.

She passed Archie and Hook, who seemed to be in a deep discussion about "… my mother always liked Liam better, which I know for a fact, because she told me to my face…"; then weaved her way around Mulan and a wild-haired redhead, who seemed very taken with Mulan indeed, judging by the nervous smile and the fluttering lashes; shunted past a growling Granny, whose unfocused eyes kept sweeping around the room; and finally landed in her own kitchen.

Steam rose out of pots and David frantically clattered around, checking this and that. She didn't know why he was still cooking, when he could have been out there, enjoying the party—or perhaps, David simply enjoyed the kitchen more than the party, so he kept inventing dishes to be served.

Snow had given up on helping him and was now sitting at the counter with Belle and Ruby, sipping a glass of wine while Ruby slurred a story out.

"…getting so insecure and jealous," she was saying as Regina drifted toward the counter with an empty plate. "It's unbelievable—"

"Hey, Regina," Belle interrupted. "If you're looking for lasagna, don't bother 'cause—" she pointed to her plate with a smug smile—"last piece, right here."

"Goddamn you, Belle," Regina glowered. There was an unpleasant ripple in her stomach; her fingers tingled, and then a crack zigzagged violently across the plate, sending one half shattering to the floor. Belle's eyebrows flew up.

"Was that you or her?" she asked, nodding toward Regina's stomach.

"Group effort," Regina muttered darkly.

"You okay, Regina?" David asked, not looking up from his stirring. "You seem tense. Dangerously so."

"I'll be fine." She lowered herself to the floor to start picking up the broken shards. Perfect, she thought bitterly. God, she just hated everybody right now. Was it the lack of alcohol? The hormones? The crowd of people infecting her personal space? Was it even her? Maybe Baby Witch was in a shitty mood, but Regina could feel her temper bubbling beneath the surface.

No, she told herself sternly as Ruby went back to her story. Calm down before you break another plate.

"I mean, I know I've got issues, but he's got issues, you know? So insecure…he's all like, 'Ugh, Ruby, stop looking at other guys', and I'm like, 'Dude, I had sex with you literally ten minutes ago—"

Regina's eyes bugged out and the plate shattered to dust. "WHAT?" she screamed, jumping to her feet. Hook and Ruby—? In her house—? They—? NO! OH, GOD, NO, OH, DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN, WHY?

Ruby looked petrified. "Shit, did I say that out loud?"

"YES, YOU SAID THAT OUT LOUD!"

"Regina—" Snow began worriedly.

"YOU SIT YOUR ASS DOWN!" Regina flung out her hand and a bolt of magic shot through her fingers gluing Snow to her seat.

Belle pushed her half-eaten lasagna across the counter, and hopped off the stool. Regina barely glanced at her scurrying past as she advanced toward Ruby, her eyes glowing like coals with loathing and disgust. Ruby backed up against the wall, wide-eyed with terror.

"It—it wasn't my fault!" she squeaked. "David, tell her!"

"I don't know anything about it," David said distractedly, immersed in stirring.

"Snow?"

"I told you not to get involved with him, Ruby."

"Spirit of my ancestors watching over me?"

"They can't help you now," Regina growled. "You and that herpes-infested pirate scum are going to burn for what you did. Not in hell—I'm going to literally burn you." She conjured a fireball, the flames crackling threateningly as it pulsed in her hand.

"Regina, come on," Ruby said weakly.

"You can't set someone on fire," Snow said, her gaze darting between Regina and Ruby nervously. "Don't go 'Evil Queen', Regina, you're better than that."

"Am I?" Regina challenged. "Doesn't feel like it!"

"It's probably just your hormones—"

"Will everyone stop talking about my fucking hormones?" she snarled. "Sometimes, it's not hormones! Sometimes, you people are just assholes!"

"It's Christmas—"

"YEAH, NO SHIT!"

"HEY!" David shouted, throwing down his spoon. "If you guys keep shouting, you're going to disturb my soufflés and they're going to deflate!"

The three women turned their heads, looking at David incredulously. He looked back at them with raised eyebrows.

"Stop looking at me like that, I'm not ashamed of my soufflés," he scoffed. "I'm only going to be ashamed to serve them when they've fallen because you guys can't behave like civilized humans."

"David!" Regina said indignantly. "Do you know what Ruby did?"

"Yes. Hook. In your linen closet. It's a party with alcohol, Regina, it happens."

"Oh, really? It happens?" Regina stepped toward him, a mirthless smile on her face. "Well, then, you'd be perfectly fine knowing that your daughter is trying to do the same?"

David blanched. "What?"

"Thankfully, Neal's not a complete slut, like some other people I know—" (Ruby rolled her eyes)—"but yeah, Emma's definitely getting into the party atmosphere. Not too shy about it either," Regina added, relishing the look of nausea on David's face. "You still want to tell me it's not a big deal?"

"Neal," David muttered murderously. His hands curled around the pot, as if he was preparing to throw it, the skin around the knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip. "Neal…"

"David," Snow warned. "Think about your soufflés."

"Neal…" David shook with barely-contained rage. "I'm going to kill him."

"What are you worried about?" Snow scoffed. "He already knocked her up once, what else is going to happen?"

"It's not even that big a deal, David," Ruby said, though her eyes were fixed on Regina.

"Like hell it isn't!" David and Regina flared at the same time.

The door burst open, and Belle skated in, tugging a stumbling Archie by the hand. "Here!" she panted, pushing him into the middle. "Fix them!"

"I keep telling people, it doesn't work like that!" Archie said exasperatedly. "I can't just fix people!"

"You have to!" Belle insisted. "Regina's going to kill Ruby because she and Hook sexed it up in the closet, and then she's going to kill me because I ate her lasagna!"

Archie sighed heavily, sliding his hands down his face. "This family…" he muttered, shaking his head. "Okay, Regina, put the fireball away."

Regina glowered, raising the flames higher. Archie stared back, unimpressed.

"Regina, put the fireball away," he repeated.

"Why?"

"Because you're not going to set anyone on fire," Archie said flatly. "You're misinterpreting your emotions as rational reactions to a situation that, in all honesty, you should have seen coming—no offense, Ruby, but yes, I am slut-shaming you and your boyfriend, because really?—and you're letting your pregnancy mood fluctuations take over and bring you back to that very dark place you were two years ago." He paused. "Which is why I suggested regular anger management sessions—"

Regina made an impatient noise, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

"—which I am still suggesting," Archie said, raising his voice over her muttering. "Now, put away that fireball before someone gets hurt."

Regina glared at him steadily for a minute, then slowly closed her hand, extinguishing the flame.

"Good," Archie nodded. "Let's sit for a minute and—"

"Dr. Hopper!" Hook popped his head in, looking indignant. "What happened? I thought we were talking about my broken childhood!"

"You!" Regina snarled, storming toward him. Archie immediately stuck out his arm to hold her back (saving Hook's life in the process). "I am going to rip off your skin, and stitch it back on inside out!"

"What'd I do?" Hook said wildly.

"What you always do!" Regina snapped, struggling against Archie. "If I wasn't worried about catching diseases, I'd kill you with my bare hands!"

"Regina," Archie warned. "Hook, get out of here, we'll talk later this week."

"But what about my—?"

"We'll talk later this week," Archie repeated loudly. "But if you want to live long enough to see later this week, you and Ruby get out of here now. Not together," he added.

Hook spared Regina a disgruntled look, and shouldered back through the door, muttering something about "stealing my doctor". Archie held Regina back firmly as Ruby passed them.

"Remember what I said, Ruby," he called after her. "Don't do anything stupid. No, Snow," he interrupted himself, as Snow immediately opened her mouth. "It's too easy."

"So is Ruby. Snap!" Belle looked positively delighted with herself as she held out her fist. "Somebody, fist-bump me!"

"Sit down, Regina," Archie said, guiding her to one of the counter stools. "Breathe through your rage, don't analyze it. You'll only encourage it."

"I'm going to put his remaining fingers in a blender—"

"Stop making threats, he's not even here." Archie pulled out the stool next to her with a weary sigh, and folded his hands together. "My God, you people are…" He shook his head, seemingly talking to himself. "This family…oh, this family. That one's a compulsive slut, this one wants to set fire to everyone—"

"We're not a family," Regina snapped. "We're not related, how dare you slander my bloodline like that!"

"A family is not blood, Regina. It's a group of people who hold a strong social obligation to each other over the rest of society. And for some dysfunctional reason, you've included Hook in that group, which is why you're going to put down that fireball that you think I can't see."

Regina looked down at her hand, surprised to find another fireball pulsing over it. Archie raised an eyebrow at her.

"Put it down, Regina. You're not going to set anyone on fire…right?"

Regina blinked, and closed her fist again. "I didn't even realize I was doing that," she said.

"Of course not…"

"No, no, I'm serious!" she insisted. "I didn't know I was using magic, it just started up on its own."

"On its own?" Archie furrowed his brow. "I don't know a lot about magic, but that's not normal, is it?"

"It's probably that baby," Belle said, strolling back to the counter. She pulled the lasagna plate toward her. "If no one's going to eat this…"

"She tends to encourage my temper flare-ups," Regina explained in response to Archie's quizzical look. "The baby, I mean."

"The hormones, you mean."

"The baby, I mean. Rumple thinks she has magic—and a temper."

"Regina…" Archie looked at her impatiently. "Please don't tell me you're trying to use this child as a scapegoat for your emotional instability. I'm still recommending you come in for anger management, regardless of who's fault you think it is."

"I've been doing fine on my own, I don't need anger management."

"You have not been doing fine on your own. You conjured a fireball, and you didn't even realize it." Archie studied her for a moment. "I think you should come in for some counseling. If nothing else, to learn how to control yourself when your…child—"

"I've been calling her 'Baby Witch'."

"…Whatever. But some counseling might be able to help you when she forces magic out of you. She seems to be very temperamental, and it's still early, isn't it? I'd hate to see what she's capable of the more she grows."

Archie sounded as though he didn't really believe her that Baby Witch was the culprit behind it; and perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was a convenient scapegoat for Regina, and it was easier to say that it wasn't her; that she didn't have a rage problem; that her unborn kid was possibly a psychopath who kept influencing her.

But Rumple seemed quite certain that she had a witch-baby. So maybe she was right—maybe it was all the baby; maybe Regina was actually having someone else's magic explode out of her, and it really wasn't her fault.

Or maybe it was pregnancy hormones influencing her emotions and making it harder to control her magic. Magic was all about emotion, after all. Maybe it all came down to brain chemicals.

Maybe it was everything, at once. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones and Baby Witch and anger management problems all together. Whatever it was…well, maybe swallowing her pride and letting Archie teach her a few deep-breathing techniques wouldn't be such a bad idea. She was interested more in results than anything, and it would be nice to stop scaring herself by having magic come in random spurts.

"When does anger management meet?" she asked grudgingly.

"Tuesdays at four. We also provide refreshments, so if you know anyone else who wants juice and stale Oreos…" Archie shrugged. "Bring 'em."

Whale leaned against the wall, sipping his drink. He'd seen a lot of interesting things tonight. Well, not interesting per se, but enough to keep him from going out of his mind with boredom. He never really talked at parties; he didn't have a group he hung out with; and it was too weird to be around Graham right now. He was still settling into the idea of being attracted to men and, while it was somewhat of a relief, it also took some getting used-to. So, the Charming-Swan-Gold-Cassidy-Mills-and-for-some-reason-also-Hook-and-recently-Ruby clan had provided some welcome distraction.

He'd been playing a little game with himself, trying to imagine the most outlandish and yet entirely possible explanations of their behavior. For example, Ruby leading Hook to the guest room a few minutes ago:

"Oh, darling, you've never looked sluttier!" he imagined Hook saying. "And you're drunk, too! Be still my heart! We're more alike every day! It's like I'm dating myself!"

"It's like I'm dating myself, too!" Ruby would have agreed delightedly. "God, I just want to make out with myself right now! You're close enough—follow me!"

"Okay!"

And then Rumple and Regina, standing around the doorway, talking while Henry lolled his head around in misery:

"Regina, there's something I have to tell you—I'm part Hobbit, on my mother's side! You're one-quarter Hobbit!"

"Are you fucking kidding me? I could have been taller if it wasn't for your dumbfuck mother!"

"Don't talk about my dumbfuck mother like that! Henry, you're one-eighth Hobbit—defend your heritage!"

And then Emma and Neal in the corner:

"Let's play, 'Sexy Mugger'! I'll keep roughing you up and pretending to search for your wallet, and you push me away and half-heartedly call the police! Ooh, this is a sexy tie, let's incorporate the tie!"

"I can barely stay awake right now, and I loathe all of humanity. I'm not in the mood for 'Sexy Mugger'. How about…'Sexy Bored People'?"

"Oh, Neal, you're incorrigible!"

Whale watched a little more, quietly observing his surroundings as per his usual custom. Hook talked to Archie, Regina stomped into the kitchen, there were some loud noises, then Belle rushed out and yanked Archie in, and then Hook followed—and walked right back out. Well, of course, Whale thought reasonably, sipping his drink. Not enough Hook was stupid enough to stay very long in a room with an irritated, hormonal Regina. That woman was unstable as Jefferson was fabulous.

Jefferson, he mused. Should he talk to Jefferson? Ask him about…gay stuff? Was there stuff even to ask? Maybe there was a pamphlet: So You're Wildly Attracted To Your Roommate Who Doesn't Know You're Gay, And He Has Really Soft-Looking Curls And A Six-Pack That Would Make Spartacus Weep With Pride.

Or maybe he could just deal with his sexuality the way he dealt with his feelings: put it off, let work come first, and content himself with Star Wars and microwave lasagna.

"Hey, Dr. Whale."

Whale turned at the sound of Henry's voice, startled by his sudden appearance. "Henry, where did you come from?"

"Those two," Henry grimaced, jutting his head toward his parents. "Acting like that."

Whale glanced over at Emma, who was unsuccessfully trying to push Neal against the wall—presumably to kiss him senseless or something along those lines. Neal didn't seem to be cooperating, but that wasn't deterring Emma's efforts. "Yep," he agreed. "That'll do it."

"Anyway, I just came over to grab some more sodas," Henry explained, reaching around him to open the cooler. "Me and Violet just ate a whole bag of chips, so we're, like, forty-days-in-the-desert thirsty."

"Oh, you two are hanging out?" Whale said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Henry grinned. "It's awesome. We just sit there and people-watch and make fun of the world…Reject society, in general."

Whale looked at him for minute, studying the boy: he was a smart kid…maybe a little snarky, maybe a little bitter, but he had potential. He had so much contempt for people…so little faith in humanity…He could be great, someday. "You know, Henry, you remind me a lot of myself when I was your age," he said thoughtfully.

Henry looked up, his smile fading. "Dr. Whale, that's so mean."

"Hey," Whale said, feeling offended. "Henry."

Henry shook his head, the grimace not leaving his face. "What a nasty thing to say," he muttered to himself. "You're a real piece of work, Dr. Whale, you know that?"

Whale raised his eyebrows, staring wordlessly after Henry as he picked up his sodas and walked off. Where exactly did Henry Mills get off on calling Whale "a piece of work"?

You know what? I don't even care, he decided, going to refill his drink. What did he care what a fifteen-year-old with a bad attitude thought? He didn't. He was Victor-fucking-Whale. Doctor and necromancer extraordinaire. Who ate microwave lasagna and watched an unhealthy amount of Star Wars.

The irony was not lost on him: he'd once wanted his name to stand for "Life"…and there wasn't a person, dead or alive, who lacked a life more than him.

Okay, that's it, he told himself. You're not going to do this anymore. You're at a party, and you're going to be involved. You're going to be active. You're going to talk to people. You are not going to stand here and mope about how pathetic you are.

On that decisive note, he turned on his heel and swept his gaze across the room. After a moment's hesitation, he made his way toward Jefferson, who was sitting at a table surrounded by a bunch of Ruby's waitress friends.

"…very honored, thank you," Jefferson was saying as Whale reached him; he glanced over at the sound of his footsteps, and broke into a smile. "Hey, Victor! Nice to see you!"

"Hey," Whale said, smiling back awkwardly. "I'm bored, so…"

"Yeah, take a seat," Jefferson said, waving him on. "These lovely ladies were just telling me I made second place in this year's 'Most Eligible DILF' contest."

"Well—'eligible' in the sense of 'wish he was eligible'," Ashley grinned. "Obviously, none of us are guys, so that kind of puts our chances at a zero, but whatever."

"Apparently, I have smoldering eyes," Jefferson said proudly. "What do you think?"

Whale blinked. Wait, was Jefferson hitting on him? Or was he goading Whale to hit on him? Or was he just being jokey? Damn it! Was this how it was for girls who were friends with guys? Was there meant to be a sexual tension? Was there one right now? He should ask Emma: all her friends were guys, she probably dealt with stuff like this all the time…no, but then Emma would know he was gay, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was ready to come out. Because then Snow would try to set him up with every guy in town, and he really didn't want to be set up.

"That's awesome," he said finally. That was a good, neutral response, right? Right?

"And Dr. Whale, we even added you as an honorary member, since you've spent so many hours around kids,"Ariel smiled. "You made fourth place, congrats."

"I did?" Whale said, surprised. "Like—fourth place as an honorary, or fourth place among other honoraries?"

"As an honorary," Ashley beamed. "It's too bad you work so many hours. There's a lot of girls who wouldn't mind spending some time getting to know you."

Oh, sure, now you tell me, Whale thought irritably. Where had they all been when he was "straight"? He glanced over at Jefferson, who seemed highly amused by something, but disinclined to share.

"Anyways—" Jefferson coughed into his fist to hide his smile. "Congratulations, Victor, on your success as an honorary DILF."

Whale eyed him suspiciously, barely hearing the small round of applause the girls gave him. Bastard…he knows, doesn't he? Jefferson had once bragged about his gaydar. He probably knew all the Graham-central thoughts (rock-hard abs!) rolling around in Whale's head right now.

"The actual DILF fourth place/ fifth place including Dr. Whale was… what'd we say, Robin?"

"Robin," the other girls chimed, nodding their head.

"Robin," Ashley confirmed. "Third place was Mr. Gold—"

"Mr. Gold?" Jefferson and Whale repeated in unison. "But—"

"—he's old—"

"—and he hits people with his cane—"

"—and he's mean—"

"—and he's—"

"Sexy for an older man," Ariel shrugged. "Girls aren't like guys, you know? Age is less important to us. It's an actually an evolutionary mechanism. Males tend to seek out younger partners, because it increases the likelihood of reproduction; whereas females tend to seek out older males, because it increases the likelihood of resources and dependability, so they will have a provider for their young. It goes all the way back to…" She trailed off, suddenly realizing that the other girls were watching her quizzically. She cleared her throat. "I mean…he's, like, old-guy-hot."

"He so is," Ashley said, rolling her eyes in reverence. "So, he was a really close third to Jefferson's second, who was also a very close second to Neal's first."

"Couldn't lose to a better contender. Am I right, ladies?" Jefferson exchanged a conspiratorial smile with them all, wiggling his eyebrows. They laughed, and a few of them affectionately hit his shoulder and said, "Jeff, you're so bad!"

"I know, I know," Jefferson grinned, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, everybody, me and Vic are going to grab a drink—"

"Aww," they all complained in overlapping tones.

"No, no, no, come on," Jefferson said, raising his voice over theirs. "I'll be back later, I just want to threw a few back with the good doctor here. Come on, Victor, up you get."

He pulled Whale to his feet with one swift motion, and clapped a hand on his shoulder with a careless, "Come on" before disappearing through the crowd. Whale twitched an apologetic smile at the girls, and followed Jefferson.

…right back to his little corner where he'd already spent most of the night: by the drinks. Jefferson was pouring two drinks, even though Whale was still holding his half-full (half-empty?) glass.

"Here we go," Jefferson said, passing him one. He plucked Whale's other drink out of his hand, spraying a few drops as he swiped it away. "Drink up, you'll like this one much better."

Whale looked dubiously at the dark pink drink Jefferson had given him. "I don't like strawberry."

"Mmm—" Jefferson frowned, shaking his head as he swallowed. "It's cranberry. Try it."

"I don't want to."

"No, come on," Jefferson urged. "It's a new recipe Ruby Lucas showed me. I kind of wanted to buy it from her. Or hire her for the bar at least, so she can mix it on request. I feel like this one is going to be a real moneymaker."

"I'll take your word for it," Whale said, setting down the drink. He wasn't overly fond of sweet, fruity, umbrella-drinks. It felt too much like he was drinking candy.

"So—" Jefferson grinned at him over his glass—"how're things with Graham?"

"He's a good roommate. Pays his rent on time, keeps the T.V. low when he's watching stupid shit, makes good coffee—"

"And looks damn good with his shirt off, huh?"

Whale stopped. "Um, what?" he said, tugging at his collar. "I don't, uh…I don't know what you're—"

"I'm talking about, the gorgeous hunk of man who you share a house with, and that gorgeous hunk of man's six-pack. I mean—" Jefferson fanned his hands—"whoo."

Whale stared back at him sourly. "So you do know. About me."

"Gaydar," Jefferson shrugged. "So, how are you adjusting?"

"Well, it's not like I had much of a love life before, so it's hard to notice a difference," Whale said truthfully.

"You seem less tense," Jefferson said. "It's nice, being honest with yourself, isn't it? Not hiding it, not pushing it down…very relaxing, don't you think?"

"I'm a surgeon, Jeff. There's always something to unrelax me. Do you know, a guy came in the other day with half his toe off?"

"That's disgusting, and you're changing the subject."

"I thought it was the natural flow of the conversation. And also, I'm pretty confident that Graham's straight, so…"

"Maybe," Jefferson said, sounding unconvinced.

"He told me," Whale insisted. "The night he came from his date with you. He didn't even know it was supposed to be a date. He thought you guys were just hanging out. And honestly, I'm pretty sure he likes girls."

"I thought I did, too, at one point!" Jefferson laughed. "How do you think I got the kid?"

Whale followed his line of vision to Grace, who was sitting at a table with a few other girls, giggling at something on her phone.

"She is the one good thing that came out of that relationship," Jefferson said bitterly, a faraway look in his eyes. "Because Grace's mother…oh, God, she was the worst."

"Why, what happened?" Whale frowned. "I assumed she was…you know… deceased?"

"Who knows?" Jefferson snorted. "I told Grace that, so she wouldn't grow up completely damaged. Truth is, the bitch left. Packed her bags one day, and skipped off with some other guy. One of those," he added, nodding at Hook, who was wandering around aimlessly. "Useless pretty-boys with nothing but dust in their skulls."

Whale nodded silently, unsure of how to respond. That didn't seem to be a problem for Jefferson, though; he seemed to have plenty to say on the subject.

"You know what the problem is with guys like that? People don't want pretty guys to be assholes; they want them to be knights in shining armor. Even when everything about them screams 'asshole', people will explain it away to protect the little fantasy taking up space in their brains." Jefferson glowered, his fingers tightening so much around the glass, it threatened to break. "People are fucking stupid."

"Preach."

"No, they're really fucking stupid," Jefferson said vehemently. "Sometimes, it just makes me angry, how stupid they are. I feel like I'm stuck in my house all over again, watching them walk blindly about their lives. See, they don't know how stupid they are—they don't know any better. But I'm not stupid, so I have to live in painful awareness that I live in a world of fucking idiots."

Whale almost touched a hand to his heart: poetry. Such glorious, misanthropic poetry.

"I'm almost glad Grace's mom left," Jefferson went on. "She was one of those—completely stupid. One look at that pretty-boy, and she was out the door. I'm just glad she left before she had a chance to infect Grace's head. Innocent children shouldn't be around stupid people; they deserve a fighting chance."

He lapsed into silence, sliding into meditative trance; his eyes glossed over, his head nodding slightly, his lips moving as he mumbled indistinguishably to himself. Whale looked around the room, wondering if he should leave. He didn't want to disturb Jefferson's…whatever was happening there.

But then, Jefferson snapped out of it, saving him the trouble of deciding. "Sorry about that," he said, forcing a smile. "The holidays…they bring out the worst in me. Reminds me of the twenty-eight-years' worth of holidays I spent alone."

"I spend my holidays alone, too. Save for lasagna and Star Wars."

Jefferson looked at him for a moment, almost pityingly. "That's…nice."

"God, get a room, you two!" Henry's voice snapped, making them both whirl around—just as Neal pushed away from Emma, saying, "There, you see? You broke Henry!"

"I didn't break him! Believe me, he's seen far worse from my parents!"

"I did not need to know that! Thanks, Em—now you broke me, too!"

"Neal, wait!"

Emma scampered after Neal, disappearing from sight, just as a grimacing Henry came into view.

"Hey, guys," he muttered, moving past Jefferson to open the cooler. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Jefferson said, looking down at the top of his head. "What about you? You seem…miffed."

"Miffed?" Henry let out a bitter laugh, straightening up. "Sure, let's go with that."

"They embarrassing you?" Jefferson nudged him.

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's talk about something else. What are you talking about? Let's talk about that."

"We weren't really talking about anything," Whale shrugged. "Just debating whether or not Graham's gay…and some other stuff. Grown-up stuff."

"Hmm," Henry said as though he weren't entirely listening. "Well, if you want my advice on Graham, just remember: communication is key. Just look at my parents—they didn't communicate before, and they weren't together and they were maddish at each other and bitter and sad all the time. And now look that them—they couldn't be more happy." Then added in an undertone: "And I couldn't be more miserable."

"I seem to recall a very salty teenage boy insisting that his parents were getting back together," Whale said, raising an eyebrow. "Now you're upset that it's happened."

"Yeah, I want them together. I just don't want to see it. I don't need that—I'm screwed up enough as it is, I don't need more trauma."

He walked away, leaving Jefferson and Whale to stare bewilderedly after him.

"There's just no pleasing that kid."

"Tell me about it."

Probably one more Christmas party chapter, everyone's just got so much feistiness and general misery, I need more space to show you.